Ways of looking at a feather.

 I live on Boyle Street at the mouth of Boyle Ravine.  North of Boyle is the town of Quincy.  South of Boyle is the forest. So, like an old acquaintance of mine from Genesee, I live on the edge.  The edge is a kind of ecotone between civilization and wilderness.  When I encounter feathers on the ground on either side of the line, my imagination gets fired up.  I found the feather in the above photo a few hundred yards up in Boyle Ravine, off trail, lying amongst flowers in the Butterup Family that I'll feature in another post.  In the photo, the greenery just above the feather is a Baneberry plant.  Others nearby were bearing berries.  But, I didn't move the feather.  Just enjoyed the bright blue and the sense that it could have fallen just a few minutes earlier.  I found the other feather (below photo) on

my driveway.  It had suffered the usual abuses - age, tires, footsteps, etc. - and was already losing its color.  Both feather were from the Stellar's Jay.  The second one, in the spot where I found it, was not photogenic, so I brought it inside, smoother it out a bit, and placed it on white paper.  Our county is named for feathers (las plumas), probably mistakenly, but I still like feathers.  In Spanish the word also means "pens" since the first pens were probably made of feathers.  We still name a popular artists' pen the crow quill.  With a hand lens, I started viewing and picking at the above feather and discovering the intricacy of its architecture. I thought of the verb "feather" as relates to a canoe paddling technique and missed our canoe.  We finally decided it was getting too heavy and we were not canoeing enough; now I miss it.  On second thought, it was not getting heavier - I am getting weaker.  So much for today's thoughts on feathers.  Next up - the Buttercup Family.