Posted in Fall, tagged competition, contemplation, contest, dignity, nurturing, photography, sunlight on September 30, 2011| Leave a Comment »
The settling of sunlight is random; a spot here, a brush there, a sweep,
a passage, a glimpse. There is competition for this photosynthetic
nurturing; a branch reaches out, grasses stretch to rise up
out of the shade, leaves arch and torque for the best exposure.
And even though life and death hang in the balance
of this contest, there is always dignity.
Posted in Fall, tagged beautiful, contemplation, fashion, grow old, photography on September 28, 2011| Leave a Comment »
When you grow old you will still be beautiful. You won’t have the
rich hues of spring leaves, the lyrical pastels of summer flowers
or the riotous colours of fall foliage. Your beauty will be softer,
more interesting, and meant to be appreciated in a contemplative way;
not in the jarring fashion of youthful splendour.
Posted in Fall, tagged awake, contemplation, fail, fall, journey, photography, slumber on September 26, 2011| 2 Comments »
Fall into my arms. Rest, before you continue your journey.
I’ll support you as long as I’m able and then will join you in a
timeless slumber when I fail, too. When we awake, far into
days unimaginable, we will dance together once again.
Posted in Summer, tagged beach, century, contemplation, day, hour, photography, time passing on September 23, 2011| Leave a Comment »
On a stretch of beach left behind in the path of a glacier, stones have
sprung up like static wildflowers in a grassless meadow. The water
and the weather are unable to move the stones; move them quickly,
anyway. So they loiter, shifting this way one era, that way the next.
Their minutes are marked by years, their hours by decades,
their days by centuries.
Posted in Summer, tagged beauty, contemplation, fashion, nonconformity, photography, style on September 21, 2011| 2 Comments »
There is no such thing as a bad hair day in the forest. Is your mop a
tangled mess, far beyond the penetrating abilities of a comb?
Would your style be best described as a tumbleweed, teased with a
salad fork? Are your roots grey, or even green? Who cares?
You are in a place where beauty is defined as interesting form
meeting captivating light. Fashion doesn’t exist here.
Posted in Summer, tagged contemplation, imagine, peace, photography, road, travel on September 19, 2011| Leave a Comment »
It is easy to imagine finding peace at the end of this ribbon of dirt road
through pristine woods. It is more difficult to realize that there can be
peace at the end of any road. And the most difficult to realize is that
the greatest peace can be found just traveling along the road.
Posted in Summer, tagged contemplation, heart, lyrical, memory, patterns, photography on September 16, 2011| 1 Comment »
A heart of stone floats in a swirl of grey beach sand; its cracked,
stained and battered form is supported by the lyrical designs of the sand,
pushed and shaped by waves and wind. With each beat, the hard heart
is whittled down. Eventually it will be nothing but a grainy memory,
making new patterns in the shifting ether that once held it so securely.
Posted in Summer, tagged contemplation, photography, tide, time, universal on September 14, 2011| Leave a Comment »
A shoreline rock is being swallowed whole by the steady push of the tide;
an advancing line of water bending over itself as it rises up the side of
the boulder. Time passes in a variety of ways, a variety of speeds.
The edge of tidal water is one measure – one cog in a universal
timepiece – that truly metes out our time here on Earth.
Posted in Summer, tagged celestial, contemplation, moths, orbiting, photography, sky, sun on September 12, 2011| Leave a Comment »
On some uneventful evening you might step out onto your deck,
look above your head and see nine celestial moths
orbiting a porch-light sun in a pine board sky.
Posted in Summer, tagged clinging, contemplation, photography, protection on September 9, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Moss streams down the side of an escarpment back-boning its way
through a Carolinian forest. The moss buffers the rock from the elements:
sun, wind, rain, ice – all intent on wearing it down grain by grain.
Ironically, the price for this protection is another form of deterioration
from the grip of the moss. The more the moss bonds with its host,
the more damage it does with its clinging nature.
m1nute 