Cardinals Courting

I saw the cutest thing this morning. I was packing up my lunch to get ready for work when the cat started meowing at the open front door. I open the front door but leave the storm door shut so she can watch the birds. This morning she was trying to talk to the beautiful male cardinal that was sitting on the patio eating. I stopped for a moment and watched him. That's when I noticed the female cardinal in the yard.

Scruffy looking female cardinal

Now cardinals mate for life, which means that after courting they breed together each year until one or the other dies. They are not strictly monogamous in the winter but during the breeding season they are. And they always travel together. Normally the male comes down to eat while the females waits in the tree, keeping guard. Then they switch. This morning they were both on the ground. As I watched the male picked up a couple of seeds and then flitted over to the female and passed the food to her beak-to-beak. He then went back to the pile of seeds picked up more, and repeated the process. He was feeding her.

A cardinal at the feeder in winter

It looked like a tiny cardinal kiss when they ever so briefly touched beaks. I read up a bit on the behavior and just as I thought, those cardinals were courting. Mate-feeding normally takes place during courting and for much of the breeding season. It's actually a pretty common practice among courting cardinals, but I'd never seen it in person. As I watched, the male made about 6 trips back and forth from the seed to his mate. It was truly one of the cutest things I've ever seen.

I didn't even think to grab the camera this morning to take some shots (cut me some slack it was 6:30 in the morning), so I've stolen the image below from a Toronto newspaper. Sorry. The other shots are mine.

Complications of Moving and, a Book Review

I moved my computer upstairs with the idea that it would spur on my creative writing. I set it up in my library, in the place where my typewriter had been. I hoped that it would help as I try to create the next great american novel. Instead I found that I still wrote long-hand in paper journals and sadly that I didn't bother to blog at all. It's been almost two weeks since my last post. Not my brightest plan.

I can't completely blame the move though. I've been partially absent because I've been reading. Voraciously. I haven't turned on Netflix in weeks. I haven't been out much. Instead I've been devouring books. The moment I finish one, I pick up another. The second that one is done, I've selected another. The clerks at the library practically know me by name. And I'm starting to make a dent in my "to be read" bookcase at home.

I've been blessed that most of the books I've read this month were very good but one of them was so good that I had to share. My dad had given me a copy of Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin a couple of months ago. I'd put off reading the book for some unknown reason. A week or so ago it landed at the top of my stack so I picked it up. And was simultaneously confused and intrigued.

The Blind Assassin tells the story of the Chase sisters, as told by Iris Chase who is now in her 80s. It also tells the story of two unnamed lovers who meet for their trysts and end each meeting telling a continual science fiction story. All in all there are really three or four different stories being told. The book begins after Laura has driven off a bridge and died. Laura is known as the author of the brilliant book The Blind Assassin, which was published posthumously. Iris is besieged with her sister's posthumous fame, all the while living a quiet life. Then Iris begins to tell the story of their childhood. Recounting early crushes, early crises, and the way too early death of their mother, we start to get a sense for who the girls were. We also get a feel for the time they grew up in. As the book continues, the twists and turns begin to untangle until we finally see how all the stories in the book entwine and how perception is not always truth.

When I got with 100 pages of the end of this book I was so desperate to finish that it was almost painful. This is of course the moment that my week conspired against me. I had something going on every night that kept me away from my book until nearly 11 at night. My lunches, which are normally reading time, turned social and I wasn't able to read during the day. I stole whatever moments I could but I was in agony to find out what happened. The two people who had read it before wouldn't tell me anything. They would just wink and say "you'll see". At the time I was mad they wouldn't tell me. When I finally did find the time on Friday, I was glad they hadn't said a word. The discovery was just as delicious as the novel. This was by far the best book I've read in months. Now if I had only been more productive with the blogging while I was reading it.

Shouting "Fire" in a Crowded Theater

I put out a fire today. A real fire. Not the kind of fires that I get at work which are really just someone who thinks their project is more important than other people's. An honest to goodness fire. And it felt good.

I went to the theater tonight to listen to Anne Lamott read. I was 25 when Anne's book "Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life" came into my life. Like "Writing Down the Bones", this book inspired me. It challenged me. It made me want to write. Those are my two favorite writing books. They are the ones I give to anyone who even mentions that they're thinking of writing. I love them. So Anne was in town to talk about her new book and I headed over to Hoyt Sherman Place to see it.

I was meeting some friends who were nicely waiting outside for me. I had just walked up and we were standing around talking when I saw the flames. My instant reaction was (and I quote), "Ah, eh, guys." And I pointed. But before the words were even out of my mouth I was walking over. I debated for about 2 seconds, then I pulled my pant leg up and started stomping. It took quite a few stomps to bring the flames down. I kicked and stomped and hoped that my socks weren't catching fire. After it was mostly out, one of my friends dumped the rest of their ice on it to put it out completely.

So it wasn't a huge fire. Pretty small actually by the time we got to it. Someone had dropped a mostly lit cigarette onto some very dry plants. Of course this also happened to be at one of the prettiest buildings in the city. I worried for a while about the kind of damage it could have done if we hadn't noticed it. And I have to admit that I was pretty proud of the way I reacted. I didn't do much debating. I didn't go all hysterical. I just calmly stomped the fire out. Today I am a firefighter.

Oh and Anne was funny and wise and wonderful. Just like I knew she would be.

A Birding Mystery Solved and Word Verification

I'm saddened to say that because of a high number of spam comments recently I've decided to turn on word verification. I was having to delete lots of comments that were clearly spam and this just makes it simpler for me. It will make leaving comments a bit more cumbersome but hopefully not too bad. Sorry about the inconvenience.

My big excitement for the night was that I finally figured out a birding mystery that has been plaguing me for the last two and a half years. Yeah apparently I get a bit obsessive. Anyway. In 2008, Jeff and I went on a Caribbean cruise to celebrate the end of my masters program. It was a very nice trip but I came back with a picture of a bird that really bothered me. It involved an injured bird that I couldn't identify. It was one of the saddest and most interesting day of the cruise for me. And so the bird nagged at me. Until today.

The day we arrived in Belize, Jeff and I had had it. We had been busy and constantly moving for many days now and we were tired and snipping at each other. Not exactly relaxing. Jeff wanted to stay on the boat rather then tender to shore. I reluctantly agreed. I had wanted to see Belize but I was also a bit tired and not sure I wanted to explore by myself. So we parked ourselves on the deck chairs in the sun and relaxed. He worked on a puzzle book and I wrote. Until we noticed movement under some of the deck chairs not far away.

This was our first image of the little guy. He was hiding under the chairs, trying to pull himself up. We didn't want to spook him so we didn't get close. Instead I pulled up a chair a distance away and sketched him. We watched him for about an hour. I made sure no one went too close. Finally when we decided that he wasn't going to be able to escape on his own, we made the agonizing decision to call one of the deck stewards. The crew arrived and gently removed the bird. I remember crying a bit as they took him away since I didn't know what they were going to do with him. I was distracted and sad the rest of the day. But I also realized that the reason I had been so tired and cranky before was that I was missing birds and animals (there aren't many on cruises). I'm incredibly biophiliac. It was wonderful to be so close to a beautiful creature even though I still have no idea what happened to him.

When I came home, I scoured through my bird books and some bird websites, trying to figure out what type of bird it was. I figured it was a juvenile so that made it a bit trickier. The feet were pretty identifiable but I still came up empty. I checked all over with no luck. I even contacted the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology but chickened out before sending them any photos. So it became a mystery. Most of the time I didn't think about it but occasionally I would go back and see what I could find.

This evening I went out birding with my parents. We saw blue-winged teals and an adorable pied-billed grebe. I went to mark them off in my North American Field Guide when I decided to again look for my mystery bird. I was obviously blind. I'm not sure how I missed it before. I flipped the pages and then, as if by magic, the page dropped open. It's an immature Purple Gallinule. It's a perfect example, in the right place. The gallinule is apparently pretty common. I had just been missing the page or something. So my mystery bird is no longer a mystery. Although the fate of that particular individual will never be answered. My hope, naive perhaps, is that it was tendered to shore and given to a local wildlife rehabber. At least that's the story that helps me sleep at night.

Why the Circus Has Been Spoiled for Me

This past weekend we went to Mondo Jugglefest up in St. Paul, MN. It's an annual tradition for us. We started going at the insistence of our friend Lon, who has been going almost since the beginning. It used to be in February, right around his birthday, which made for dicey traveling but we always went. About two years ago they moved it to April (thank god) and we find traveling much simpler. It's a great trip filled with great friends.

Our group, not juggling

Mondo is the reason that circus jugglers don't amaze me quite as much. The festival is filled with people trying out new tricks, showing off old tricks, and learning from each other. At any one time there are probably 800 things flying through the air. Not surprisingly, you have to sign a waiver just to be in the auditorium. I've been hit by so many IFOs (identified flying objects) I've lost track. A majority of them have been from my own hand sadly, but you spend some of the time on the look-out for juggling props.

I've seen hundreds of unusual tricks done at Mondo. I've seen people standing on other people's shoulders and passing clubs to each other. I've seen odd object juggling (imagine juggling a feather, a potted plant, and a toaster at the same time). Every year I find something that amazes me. The hard part is that now when I go to circuses or see street jugglers, I'm not quite as impressed. My poor mother tried to point me to a gentleman juggling clubs one evening. All I could think is that unless he's on a unicycle or standing on a balance board, clubs don't really count.

I can currently only juggle three balls and do some basic contact juggling. I would like to learn clubs as well. I don't put in the time to get good at any of them, but each time I go to Mondo I come away inspired. These things are learnable. I've seen them done.

Ranting

I have a rant that I simply have to get off my chest. It's from this weekend. Now first I should let you know that I had an amazing weekend. I headed up to Minneapolis for the annual juggling festival up there and had a ton of fun. I got together with friends for dinner on Friday night followed by some geek shopping at a games store. We ended the night with video games.

The next day we met more friends up at the juggling festival and I spent the whole day working on my contact juggling. I've picked up a passing trick but its still so rough that I'll have to work on it for a while before I'm ready to show anyone. After the festival and the raffle we headed back to our friends Lon and Lisa's house for dinner, good conversation, and more video games.

Sunday we headed out of town about 11 and had lunch with my brother and his family. They bought a new house in September and I had to admit that it was our first visit up to see the place. It was amazing. The decorating they have done is just perfect. My sister-in-law (and brother) have great taste. We ate lunch with them but most of the afternoon was spent climbing trees, playing card games, and just talking.

All in all, it was an amazing weekend. It was only spoiled by one thing. The one thing I have to rant about. The hotel. Jeff and I stay in the same hotel every time we go up there. This time was a bit different though. There was a convention of Minnesota Football Coaches at the hotel. I was a bit worried when we checked in but the concierge put us up on a private floor. You know the kind you have to swipe your key to get the elevator to take you to. Yeah, swanky. Except that when we came back on Friday night we were shocked, and a bit disheartened to see all three rooms adjacent to ours open with the coaches drinking beer in the hallway. Now normally I wouldn't have a problem with this, but it was nearly 1 in the morning. Gone was the idea of a quiet night.

I put in my earplugs and tried to get some sleep. No dice. My anxiety had already kicked in. About 1:30 they decided to head off to a different party (woohoo) but the damage had already been done. I lay in bed from 1:30 to 3:30 in the middle of a massive anxiety attack. From 3:30 to 5, I simply forgot how to fall asleep. The anxiety had passed, I was just too tired to sleep. I finally dropped off for about an hour and a half but was up again at 6:30. This time I just stayed up. I was exhausted on Saturday but still had a good time. It just makes me angry though.

My mother would shush us children in hotel hallways at 9 o'clock at night. "Be respectful, people may be trying to sleep." She'd say to keep us from running and yelling past rooms. It was the same in the morning. We were always taught to be aware of how our behavior affected other people. We were quiet to be nice to them. I'm slowly learning that a large portion of our population was never taught this valuable lesson in common courtesy. Jeff called the front desk one night on a group that were yelling to each other down the halls after getting home from the bars at 2 am. That one had woken me up from a sound sleep with earplugs in. Another night we called the desk about the room above us where the group was blaring some sort of thumping bass music and jumping on the beds. It sounded like a full marching band.

Perhaps I'm an old grouch. I certainly feel that way calling the desk to complain about my neighbors noise. I keep thinking that I'm too young to be bothered by this stuff. So I pack my earplugs and pray for a quiet night. But I'm beginning to wonder if this has nothing to do with age. And everything to do with respect. I was taught to be respectful of others sleep and piece of mind. I was taught not to disturb people. That was just common courtesy. Lately I'm wondering if I'm in the minority on that one.

So if you happen to be vacationing in a hotel, and you see a women walk past with earplugs in and a grim look on her face, know that it's me. And try to keep it down.

Shoes!!

I'm not much of a shoe shopper. In fact I hate shoe shopping. I buy enough shoes to get me by but I never ever buy shoes just for the fun of it. Jeff owns more shoes than I do. I think the last time I checked I owned 8 pairs. If I didn't work in an office I'd have even less.

Most of the time when I do shoe shop it's for cheap shoes at Payless or Shoe Carnival. I don't spend much on shoes and the ones I have normally only last me a year or so. I do have one exception to the cheap shoe rule though. My exercise shoes tend to be good. I've spent more on one pair of good running/walking shoes than I have on all the other pairs in my closet. I simply can't bring myself to skimp on them.

Jeff and I have started jogging recently. It's a great recovery plan for my ankle along with the added bonus of better cardiovascular conditioning. It's also something that I've wanted to do for a long time. But these past two weeks have been a bit painful. My shoes are old and have lost most of their cushioning. They are also well worn in the heel. I supinate heavily when I walk and the back outside heel wears away quickly (see below for info on supination). The more I walk on that worn down area, the less stable the shoe becomes. My current shoes were hurting both my knees and my back. So Jeff and I went out shoe shopping tonight.

I went to a speciality running store and found a pair of New Balance 883s. I've been loving New Balance shoes for a while now. I buy them the way I used to buy Rykas. But this time I had a professional running shoe fitting. The clerk watched the way I walked and watched the way I squatted and found me the perfect shoe. They weren't the cheapest shoes but they certainly weren't the most expensive. And I love them. I honestly wanted to wear them home and around the house. I'm really excited to get out jogging in them. And that's the best thing I can say about any shoes.

Ten Things I've Learned this Week

Ancora Imparo is all about learning. Well, it's been a good week for learning. Sadly some of these lessons have been learned the hard way.

10. Five Tagalongs are my limit. Any more than that and I will be sick.

9. Whiskey is not my friend. It may pretend to be my friend but it can turn on me quickly. And the after effects are not worth it.

8. Running gets easier the second day although my legs will hate me each time.

7. Caffeine is a requirement in the morning, not an option.

6. I will watch almost anything that features actors that I have crushes on (Luck of the Irish was terrible the first time and even worse the second time).

5. There is nothing better for relieving stress then a scalding hot bath.

4. I can read a book in a single night if I have to return it to the library the next day. Sleep on the other hand is apparently optional.

3. Socks are not as hard to knit as I thought they were.

2. No matter how terrible a day is, I can alway find something positive.

And number 1. I have the greatest husband in the entire world. Seriously. He's amazing. I owe him big time.

It's been a good/bad/odd/regular week. And it's only Tuesday.

What have you learned this week?

Sweating and Sweets

I'm a hurting person today. My poor recovering ankle is sore. My quads feel like they are on fire. Going up stairs is excruciating. You see, I jogged yesterday and it's been a while since I was out jogging. When I say a while, I really mean about 34 years. I've never been jogging. In fact I've never been in any shape. Well other than round.

So in an attempt to get into shape I've decided to try a Couch to 5K program. Technically I had decided to do the program in January but didn't start running until yesterday. I'm more of a planner than a doer, clearly. The program starts you slow with a mix of jogging and walking and thank god for that. I would have killed myself if I had tried to run the whole time. I was struggling just to finish the 20 minute workout and I really only jogged 8 of those minutes. Then again I've never jogged 8 minutes before so I'm pretty happy with that.

The big thing is that I have to get out there and jog again tomorrow. I know I'll be tempted to skip but part of me wants to develop a little discipline in my life. I've never really been the kind to push myself or keep to a schedule. I've always admired disciplined people. The kind of people who push themselves each day to be a little better. The kind of people who stick with a routine even when it's not going well. So this is my new routine. I'm announcing it to the world. I'll be ready to run a 5K by June. I'll be able to jog for 20 minutes straight. I know that each day will be easier. I hope that I gasp just a little less each day. And my muscle will hurt a little less each week. I'm excited about this.

That said, I bought Girl Scout cookies today. Apparently my discipline only extends so far. I've only had two Tagalongs (I refuse to call them Peanut Butter Patties), but the boxes are calling to me from the kitchen. We'll see how long they last. So far I'm just impressed that I haven't inhaled the box while watching TV. Perhaps there is hope for me.

Losing Faith

I don't normally talk politics on the blog. I don't normally follow a lot of politics, except what I need to for my job. I read enough state code to bore anyone to tears for work. I don't want to pay attention outside of the office. But this week has me angry. More then angry actually. I'm disgusted and today I lost a little bit of faith in humanity.

Iowa is an agricultural state primarily. We grow much of the country's corn and soybeans. But our biggest industry is animal products. We harvest three times more eggs then our closest competition. We raise millions of pigs, cows, and chickens for meat and other products. And we most often do it in large factory farm situations. These places are not nice. I've heard them described as everything from horrific to Hell on Earth. Every couple of months, an organization like the Humane Society, Mercy for Animals, or PETA sends some of their volunteers into these facilities to take covert video. It's the only way that we, the public, know what is going on.

Today, my home state's House passed a bill that made it illegal to take video of these type of places. There is now a possible 5 year prison term for showing what occurs in a factory farm. Agribusiness is claiming that this is just for the protection of their animals and their livelihood. I say that they're full of crap. Just because we can't see the horrific conditions and the abuse doesn't mean it won't occur. Instead they simply cover it up. They can sweep regular abuse under the carpet and we will never see about it. Never learn what is truly happening.

I have learned that to get people to take animal welfare seriously, you have to hit them where it hurts. In their food supply. The largest salmonella outbreak came out of an egg farm here in Iowa. I wonder if that could have been avoided if we had eyes in the factory. If we had seen the rat droppings and piles of excrement. I guess we won't know. I know that from now on we really won't know. There are severe penalties for whistleblowing. We can no longer see where our food is produced. And that makes me awfully happy that I'm a vegetarian, moving more towards vegan each day.

I won't apologize for this political rant. I'm so angry right now that I can't even think straight. When I had first heard of this bill I had hoped that it wouldn't get out of the house. I had hoped that people would see the light. But I know how powerful the animal industry lobby is. I know how well money talks. And animals can't. Today I lost just a little more faith in politics to speak for the people. To protect me. And I lost some faith in humanity.

Lost in TV Land

I would be writing more blog posts if I could pull myself away from the Psych marathon that has been running in our house since Sunday. I know I've mentioned that I love this show but since we picked up Netflix and I have access to the first four seasons, it's all I've been watching. And really all I've been doing.

Jeff and I got hooked on Psych while watching reruns that ran after Burn Notice. I wasn't really sure I wanted a new series but this one was just so well written and so much fun that we stayed. It was the fourth season so we knew we had missed a ton of episodes. When we got Netflix, the first and second seasons were one of the first things we added to our queue. We would watch them an episode at a time for a while. Until this past week that is. Suddenly I can't stop. We've been watching at least three to four episodes every night.

I love a good well written TV show and Psych is definitely well written. The dialogue is quick and witty. There is so much variety in the types of episodes that it's impossible to get bored. One episode that we watched recently was a classic horror film, last night it was a monster movie, and right after that was a Bollywood movie. The show is constantly playing with genres, camera angles, and mood. One day it's Keystone Cops and the next Law and Order.

But the thing I love most about the show is the characters. Shawn (James Roday) and Gus (Dule Hill) are constantly playing off each other and the effect is hilarious. The situations that Shawn gets them into are both embarrassing and side-splitting. Gus plays the straight man to Shawn's wackiness but Gus is such a great physical actor that his face often says more than his mouth. Shawn's Dad Henry is played by Corbin Bensen with tons of sarcasm but some good heart. He's the tough cop who can still find time to take care of Shawn.

And of course there are the cops. Juliet O'Hara is played by Maggie Lawson as the cop looking to make her way up the police ladder while still helping Shawn. She's sweet but still tough enough to handle the police work. On the tough side there's Carlton Lassiter who's played by Timothy Omundson. Lassie (as the boys call him) is the ultimate aggressive cop. He's only happy when he's bringing down bad guys and firing his gun. He's the perfect straight man for Shawn and Gus but he's such a great over the top character that his lines end up being hilarious. I have to admit that I've developed a bit of a crush on Lassiter. Not sure why. He's just such an interesting character.

It's a great series. And I'm horribly addicted. Jeff and I should be through the series this weekend and I have to admit that I'm thinking of leaving them in the queue. I know I'll be going back to my favorite episodes over and over.

I Want To Be A Pirate!!!!

I'm sure I've mentioned that when I was six, my life's dream was to be a pirate. Not a terrible rum-swilling, murdering, plundering pirate. Just the type that lived on a ship and sailed the seven seas looking for adventure and excitement. Now of course that I'm older I still want to live on a ship and sail the seven seas looking for adventure. I'm not as sure about the pirate part...or at least I wasn't until I saw this on Beautiful Life.

This is a bedroom. A children's bedroom. A very, very lucky children's bedroom. The room was designed by Minneapolis based design firm Kuhl Design Build for a client. There are two beds in the room, the first which you see in the picture is below, among the stone walls and fish. The second, and here's where it gets good, is above in the pirate ship. You can either walk along the bridge to reach the pirate bed or you can climb the rope in the closet to your perch.

I want this bedroom. I want to go to sleep perched up high near the ceiling. I want to wake up on the deck of a pirate ship and slide down a rope to breakfast. I love the fish and whales painted around the room. I just love the sheer beauty and whimsy of this place. I would gladly become a pirate if I got to sleep in this room. Or maybe I should just hire a design firm.

Poetry Wednesday

Because I feel like it. I never seem to post on Fridays anymore so today will be a Poetry Wednesday. It rained yesterday and for some odd reason I felt like going out hiking. I've been enjoying the rain (mostly because it isn't snow) and am feeling very energetic. I've been waking up earlier and earlier on the weekends and going out walking. I've walk through snow and rain and mud and clear blue days. But unlike my poem for the day, one of the few times I don't walk is at night. Not sure why, I just hate walking in the evenings.

But it's still a great poem.

Acquainted With the Night

by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain--and back in rain.

I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry

Came over houses from another street.

But not to call me back or say good-by;

And further still at an unearthly height

One luminary clock against the sky.

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.

I have been one acquainted with the night.

Order Out of Chaos

I'm am disorganized to the extreme. Some would say that I've turned disorganization into an art. I have piles of things stacked all over the house. I have books sitting on my stairs waiting to go upstairs to be shelved in my library. My desk is piled with articles I've meant to read, story ideas that haven't been fleshed out yet, and plenty of knickknacks. My laundry is either in the hamper waiting to be washed or in the hamper waiting to be hung up. I'm not what you would call an amazing housekeeper.

Most of the time I don't have any problem with my regular bits of chaos. Every couple of years though I decide that I need to clean house. And this is one of those times. Both Jeff and I are pack rats. We collect things. We buy things for hobbies that never get used. I wish I could count the number of origami books that I've bought over the years and never used. And it's the same with every other hobby I've tried.

So this week I'm going to start going through my books and my clothes and my knickknacks and hopefully getting rid of some things. I'm trying the three box trick (one box to keep, one to throw, and one to give away). Everything in the "To Keep" box has to find a place in the house. I guarantee that I will evaluate things quite a bit more if I know that I have to find a spot for them. There aren't a lot of spots left. Wish me luck. This should be a monstrous task.

Lori Nix

It's been a while since I profiled an artist whose work I enjoy. I keep a list of artists and always want to share good art. And Lori Nix's work is beyond good. It's downright incredible.

Lori is a Kansas born artist who creates miniature dioramas and then photographs them. In many ways she's a double artist. First is the building of her subjects, wallpapering tiny walls, constructing tiny chairs, sculpting miniature trees. She's a craftsman and a sculptor. But after all the hard work of building is done, then she has to light and photograph the scenes. It has to take a lot of patience because each scene is perfect right down to the last detail. Lori says that it takes about 7 months to build a scene and 2 or 3 weeks to shoot it properly.

Lori has her studio set up in Brooklyn. Her most recent exhibit is called The City, which focuses on what will happen after cities are abandoned by humans. It was her image of the library (seen below) which first caught my attention. The images are all about the decay and destruction of the man-made world mixed with Nature's capacity for producing life. I find them beautiful and a bit disturbing.

Nix has a number of different themes, like Unnatural History (Great Plains seen below) which gives a museum curators view of history and nature. It's all about how they create dioramas and displays. I love Nix's use of black and white which makes them seem like old museum pictures.

I simply had to share Lori Nix's art. I'm in awe of her photography but I'm even more in awe of her diorama building skills. I want to explore her little worlds. Each is so filled with beautiful details. They are nearly perfect.