I typically don't reveal an image the same day I create it. Photographs typically go through several editing revisions before they are deemed ready for 'public consumption'.
But I'm really excited about this one.
It starts with an explanation. As I walked the trail this morning, about a quarter mile from this view, I stopped for a few minutes to be with a small song bird that was taking its last breaths. It was laying in the middle of the trail, its wing bent awkwardly. It looked up at me warily as I knelt beside it. I don't know how it ended up there, but it made me stop and consider things.
The frailty of life, for one.
Some may say, "It is just a bird..."
But its life deserved a moment out of my day.
A moment of respect.
After a while, I solemnly moved on, glancing back occasionally.
This scene is what greeted me at the end of my walk. The trees here are another example of frailty and things that have passed. This is a 'ghost forest', formed after the ground dropped roughly 12 feet during the 1964 earthquake. When the ground stopped liquifying, saltwater from the Turnagain Arm rushed in, killing the trees as they stood. But the trunks remain, preserved in somber beauty.
Throughout the elevated sections of this tidewater slough were millions of small purple flowers.
A final resting place was never more appropriate, or more beautiful.