About 6 years ago I walked into the woods of Sligo Creek park across the street from our home with the intention of photographing whatever seemed interesting. It was close to home and a place I've known from the time when our children were young and used to play there. The winter light fell on brambles creating masses of shimmering silver and red lines. It felt like possibility. Maybe I could learn to weave my life with this light and these lines in nature. The title "il nido" came to me quickly because the woods also felt like home, earth, a nest. Getting closer, the brambles led to a fascination with tendrils and how they reach out in various shapes to grasp a nearby branch for support allowing the leaves to get to the sunlight. And we do need the light, I thought. Tendrils led to spider webs, leaves and then deer, those abundant, beguiling and often frustrating (for gardeners, anyway) creatures that look back at you as you pass. If you stay quiet long enough and go about your own work, they turn away to continue foraging, grooming each other, resting, chewing their cud, and mating. This evidence of presence and transience continues to surprise and I'm left again with questions.