Spring is coming and naturally my mind turns to new beginnings. I've been watching the trees blossom and listening to a new level of avian activity in my backyard. The weather is still winter (for California) with our spates of rain followed intermittently with rays of bright sunlight.
This morning as I made breakfast something about this pile of egg shells spoke to me. Is there something poetic about a pile of shells? There's certainly a visual interest in their cracks and lines, but I couldn't quite get them to sing as I thought that they might.
For lack of an indoor space to photograph them I took to the out of doors, photographing them in the grass. Take a look at the full-size image and let me know what you think.