Where the Thunderbird Flies

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

I snagged this shot today. Mostly by accident.

Oh, I was trying to get it, but what you don't see in the photo, just out of range to the viewer's right, is the massive raven harrying the harrier. He'd chased her from the west field up into the middle willow on the banks of the pond, thence upward and over and over and around and around, spiraling higher, heading north as they danced in combat.

It was nearly impossible to catch her, and I didn't actually think I'd gotten anything in the single shot I managed to get off before they disappeared over the ridgeline.

She's going to put in an appearance elsewhere.

I'm setting up a new site — well, strictly speaking, it's already set up, but there's nothing there yet. It's going to be a home for my fictionish stuff, stuff that mostly really isn't fiction at all, but . . . certain things must be changed, and so I can't really call it what it is in spirit (and mostly in fact). Stories that have been rattling around in my head and heart and mostly my soul for too many decades to count, spirits who want their stories told, even if only one person ever actually reads them.

The title of this post is the subheading of my new place. This one will remain in daily use, of course — for Wings's art, for substantive pieces on the issues of the day that are part of my portfolio, if not necessarily by choice, for whatever else I feel like sharing here.

The Interstices will be for my version of art: Words, my words, in short form and flash form and poetry and possibly even things longer, punctuated by my photography. 

Actually what it will be is . . . me.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.