It is a good day, if Mystery makes itself known. There are those who may speak of Mystery in hushed, reverential tones: as if such a concept is more intimate with religion than fact reveals. Others may speak of Mystery with a sense of dread, a sense of ill-ease: and, indeed, there are ill mysteries. Dark riddles. Violations of mundane reality that stem from a brooding, malevolent source. Most forms of Mystery are, however, little more than pleasant surprises of unknown pedigree. I experienced such a thing. Yesterday. Shortly before I experienced the indifferent gaze of an indifferent cat. I walked with Corey, towards the most mundane of destinations: a grocery store. During our walk, we talked—as is common—and observed (as is common) and paused to photograph something. This, too, is common. Though I listened to Corey, and kept a wary eye on the street and sidewalk surrounding me, I noticed something unexpected. I noticed something...mysterious. The thing I noticed was a thing I’d never seen before. I had no name for it, other than plant. I’m certain only of that. The Mystery half-hidden among weeds, was a plant of a species I did not (and do not) recognize. It was something dry. It was something apparently dead. Narrow stalks loomed above snarls and tangles of mixed greenery, seed-banners waving in the slight, slight breeze. It was the seed banners (flattened, pea-like pods) that snagged my attention most profoundly. It was the flattened, pea-like pods, that impelled me to stoop, and attempt one…two…three…and more macro shots. There was a breeze, however, and I was without a tripod, a can of iced tea, or a cigarette box. In short, I captured blurs in dry pea-husk colors. Nothing exciting. In examining the peapod husks, however, I noticed that they possessed physical attributes I didn’t expect. They were flat and composed of three pod-shaped sheets of dried plant growth. They were—in my mind, and at that moment—like the pages of cryptic, exceptionally short books. Many of the pods were empty, and so their three-page-shapes fluttered and rustled in the breeze. A few still contained seeds: their triple-pages were closed tight. I’d never seen such things: or if I did, I didn’t remember. And so, with me being me, I decided to capture one of them. There were many such plants in a clump, and so I broke one of the dry stems and was careful not to dislodge the three-page pods. I slipped the branch (and its attendant pods) into a shirt pocket...and went about the errand before Corey and me. Once back at Corey’s place (there was no breeze indoors, nothing to stir my photographic subject into motion) and so I looked at the pods, the stem, the seeds contained within a few of the three-page-growths. I noticed the way light slowed in its passage through space, taking on colors that might be found only in plant-stuff. I noticed strange translucence. Each pod-book contained a single, transparent page. In each pod, such a transparency was the middle page. Perhaps arcane texts might be written there. Perhaps instructions for seed growth might be found there. Who knows? At any rate, the seed-pod structure intrigued me. I saw things...mysteries and revelations copulating in mad, animal abandon, and for whole minutes, I composed, arranged, and captured shots of the captured stem and dry, papery pods. I played with white sheets of paper and an LED flashlight. This is the first of such captures: a simple arrangement. A plant mystery. A white sheet of paper. Daylight and a flashlight glare behind the paper. I have yet to learn the name of this plant; I have yet to learn if its three-page books contain narratives I might understand, but until I make such discoveries, I will be happy with this image. As always: thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week.