Dancing in Death

The French call them natures mortes, but I don’t see them as dead. And we call them still lives, but, to be honest, I don’t think they look still either. I think they’re dancing…

 

Swaying to the right…

 

Groove to the left…

 

My hostas are going over – it’s the time of year – but their skeletons are full of movement. A last hurrah before the cold comes in. Beautiful, right to the end.

Waves and folds

 

and a final twirl…