Welcome to my blog Upstate Girl, (a.k.a Follow Your Bliss Part II), I am an independently published author. This blog is all about writing and the stuff that inspires me to write, the joys and obstacles that come along with the writer's life, and my fascination with the psychology of people and what makes them tick...the human condition, as is...and my love for words, playing with them and making sense of them...and I throw in a few photos from my acre of the world just to make things pretty...sometimes there are things I have no words for, only pictures will do.

*Copyright notice* All photos, writing, and artwork are mine (
© Laura J. Wellner), unless otherwise noted, please be a peach, if you'd like to use my work for a project or you just love it and must have it, message me and we'll work out the details...it's simple...JUST ASK, please.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Beautiful things...

Birch bark, March 2010

Rotten pumpkin from last Halloween, March 2010 (maybe not so beautiful to some, but dang, I thought it was mighty cool looking anyway!)

Weed and peeling paint, March 2010

Bare Trees and mist, March 2010

Old bricks, March 2010

A pale leaf, March 2010

The Robin's Story:
I rescued this poor little fellow this morning, (I believe it is a young male from last spring.) The robins have been abundant on the acre and there was a bit of a scrappy bird war going on, and this little guy took a header right into my studio window! I looked out and saw the poor thing lying in the leaves, I feared that he was dead, but when I went outside for a closer look, I saw he was breathing and the little eye flickered open. The other robins were fussing wildly, partially still at war with one another over territory, but those in the immediate area were cussing me out for butting in. I gently scooped up the little fella, cupped in one hand and held him close, sheltering him from the wind. It's such a beautiful thing holding a fragile wild creature, feeling it's life and warmth. After a brief examination, I determined the little wings were not broken, the feathers were all aligned proper, usually they're just stunned and need a chance to come around. After a bit of time, he perked up, and the little feet grasped my fingers, I asked him if he wanted to leave, but he remained hunkered down in my hand, so I tucked him close again. A little longer, the wings fluttered and the eyes were brighter. When I felt certain that he was going to be all right, I found a safe place in the blue spruces on the north side where it was less windy, and perched him on the branches, but he wound up tumbling to the ground and hunkering down in the leaves; a bit of wavering sunshine landed across his back and he seemed content (so of course, I ran inside to get my camera!) He spent most of the day there, being quiet, getting his bearings. By this time the rest of the robin tribe seemed to have sorted out their territorial dispute and were hopping around looking for food, flying and tut-tutting. Later, during my walk with Max, he was still there, but hopping around, looking over his shoulder, watching me; hop and flutter. I called out "Hey, you, I need to make sure you can fly, go on, git!" I clapped my hands and he took off for the trees. A happy ending.

I'm up to chapter 10 in my latest proof-reading round with The Fractured Hues of White Light, I'm hoping to get past chapter 11 before the day is over...and squeeze in a little bit of painting too...

My giveaway of Dusty Waters at Library Thing wound up today, the three winners were announced, and I will be mailing out their signed copies this week, by Wednesday the latest.

Thanks for stopping by!


Pat said...

That is such a lovely story. I can remember doing that as a child (we didn't have a cat). While I have lots of birds in my garden, the neighbors have many outside, semi-feral cats. So I do not see any birds on the ground.
The bark photo looks like a very old map of Florida. Your photos are so good and I really enjoy squinting my eyes because what is one thing turns into another. (It is true that I haven't grown up). But your photography is always a pleasure to look at again and again.

Susan Helene Gottfried said...

I love the pictures. I've been staring at them for awhile now, just lost in them.