Arranging photos helps me discover the symbols and patterns that were in my mind when photographing them. With these, I notice how the pebbles seem to communicate with one another, reminding me how trees might pass on messages to their offspring. While coming home from the beach, I glimpsed a coal tit near Scout's bowl. I was standing close to that little bird, and luckily he or she let me as I only had a 60mm lens with me at the time.
A couple days before, Geordie had an endoscopy + dilation, under anesthesia, at Brighams' and Women's Hospital. It involves carefully stretching the wall of your oesophagus. A little gastroscope lets your doctor see inside your oesophagus and they then insert and inflate a balloon to help stretch it. It disappointingly hadn't worked, so they went on to do an x-ray to show a complex stricture of 5 to 6 cm, which we'll need to consider a temporary stent now. During his recovery we were watching the birds with his mother and step-father from their sun room when I began to wonder about the origins of the word tit, knowing before being a relatively new slang term for teat or nipple, it must have meant something else. And of course it did; it used to mean little.
Whenever little things call my attention, I am reminded of the lesson Dr. Diamond shared with his students, a lesson that he had received from his father: "It's the little things in life that matter. The little things like a blade of grass."
Maybe, this was also Dr. Diamond's way of saying "hello" too.
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