Driveway Mandala

Some ice patterns in the driveway caught my breath. It was as if Peter Max and an ancient Aztec sculptor stopped by on their way to Eternity, and left me a message.
Yes, Peter, I see it, and it's beautiful, but what does it say?
Maybe it doesn't have to say anything. But my poor pop-art addled brain kept seeing a Blue Meanie.
These babies were big, and I had brought only my long telephoto lens (duh), so I had to shoot them at a distance and at an angle. But I'm glad I had a camera with me, because they'll never be repeated in just this way on any other day. I'm still getting a Peter Max feeling from these, a yellow submarine chugging along, puffing out white smoke.

While the first three defied description, this one grabbed me by the arm. You could see it carved on a Aztec stela, protruding from jungle vegetation: a jaguar shaman, kneeling in prayer, or preparing to spring.
Just a little driveway mandala, all the more beautiful for its impermanence.

We're on our weary way home from Nebraska today. More nodding, bolt upright and folded into airplane seats. Now I'm glad my blog elf slept on the job last week...I won't have to dream anything up for a couple more days. Bill and I are in a land somewhere in the mists beyond exhaustion. But our sweet kids and millions of Baker kisses await.