I sent out the first email in this series one year ago today. It had become painfully clear that I’d be leaving my job soon and equally clear that I had no idea what to do next. Get another job? Retire? Remain unemployed for a few months and figure it out from there?
The only thing that was clear was that I’d be taking and editing photos. I had begun following several email newsletters by that point and realized I’d started to look forward to receiving them; I decided I would try sending a few myself. It really was just a little experiment that could easily have sputtered out a few months after it began.
Instead, I continued taking photos I wanted to share with you all and, in turn, a majority of you kept opening and looking at my emails. I am both flattered and humbled that you’ve done so. Many of you have even taken the time to share your thoughts and knowledge with me. I am beyond grateful for your interest and engagement with Everyday Magic.
Thank you so much. Here’s to yet another year.
That first email was about alligator junipers in the Sandia mountains and went out to a single person.1 In retrospect, it’s kind of funny that I started with junipers; I have a fairly strong dislike for them in general. But alligator junipers are different — their bark is so interesting, especially from an up-close perspective.2
It’s not just their bark that’s compelling; their lack of bark is also fascinating. More than most trees, the alligator junipers in the Sandias nearly always seem to have fairly large areas on their trunk and branches that are completely devoid of bark, and the contrast is often quite beautiful. Despite that, I’ve never thought alligator junipers were particularly pretty from any distance at all. They often seem stunted and strangely twisted. The juniper below is actually a bit of an anomaly in that it looks like a fairly normal tree.
Turning to other recent scenes on the east side of the Sandias, here’s a photo that looks more like fall than spring, even though I took it less than a week ago. I was watching a mourning cloak butterfly resting in a small stream when a blue settled in for just a moment. There are lots of different species of blues and I have no idea which this is — but I was thrilled that the camera captured it just as it opened its wings to fly. Blues are even tinier than hairstreaks.
As for the mourning cloak, its wings were old and tattered, likely because it was born last year. That white fringe around its wings would be a beautiful shiny gold if it had been from this year’s brood.
Last, one more photo that actually does look like spring — a brand-new baby aspen leaf, one of the first I’ve seen this year, backlit by the sun. I love the blurred blue and green background as well.
Thank you once again for joining me in my appreciation of Mother Nature’s everyday magic.
Thank you, Judith, for your ongoing support of Everyday Magic (and me!).
Both photos in that original email were up-close shots of alligator junipers.
Has it really been a year!!! A year of magic captured through your lens by your keen eye!
I look forward to your emails! ❤️