An owl’s feathers are silent in flight because individual barbs zipper shut so no air can rush through like the sound of desert wind. Each time I find a feather, I brush its webbing like velvet against my cheek. Sometimes, I close my eyes and fan the air by my ear. I hear nothing, only feel a slight breeze.
~ Terry Tempest Williams, Erosion: Essays of Undoing (October 8, 2019)
Photo: Burrowing Owl by Kevin Juberg (via Voice of Nature)
Live & Learn 
incredibly beautiful
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It really is.
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TTW is awesome – it’s great to see this epistolary love affair bloom….. your appreciation lets you find the appropriate incredible photos to the words.
An amazing and awesome pairing.
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She is amazing. Thank you Kiki
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I was *just* standing out in the back yard with the dogs and listening to an owl call out repeatedly. Gives me goosebumps. I am totally fascinated by these stunning creatures.
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Miracle, all of it.
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What perfect imagery in the quiet of the morning – one can feel the soft tickle of a feather against the skin, imagine a ‘whoosh’ disrupting the air.
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Exactly. That feather against the skin. That light breeze. What magic she performs with the pen.
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I have to admit, while they are fascinating birds, I also find them a little creepy…
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Laughing…
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What a fantabulous photo. And of course, it goes perfectly with your choice of text – thanks to you, I downloaded her book…
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🙂 Thank you. Great!
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🙂
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Can’t get over this photo. So beautiful.
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Incredible….I agree.
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it has all been said… beautiful. grateful for a breath-taking moment.
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Yes Carrie, with you.
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Beautiful in words & image
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It is. Thank you.
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