Wooden memories in the mist, until I find myself there again.
zen moment
Seeking a quiet frame to get lost in.
Fear of Spiders
I didn’t understand, and because of that I couldn’t see you.
All I knew was the current of fear, a choice to be swept up in this lack of rationality.
Missing the complexity, my large body terrified of your small one,
your entire existence gone in one decisive moment.
How powerful I was. How afraid.
Clouds & Cream
Unbeknownst to him, my internet friend named this photo “Clouds & Cream”. Thank you Om! An excellent photographer and artist, who I continue to be inspired by.
Emergent Agency
Wild emerges with no permission.. this recklessness makes the season. I can’t help but be in awe.
She
There are some conservationists who are opposed to fishing and hunting, but I’m sorry, they are not thinking it through. In order to transpose mere interest into passionate love requires proactive behavior. The road is an uphill one because today’s youth of the digital world are raised with offers of passive, instant gratification. Can a person raised in that environment ever fish all day without a bite? Maybe it should be mandatory for schools to provide environmental study from grade one in which there is no computer involved, or any other electronic visual aide, only calm, analytical conversation mixed in with visits to if not wild places at least rural ones.
― Yvon Chouinard
Food for thought, from the quietly-provoking Chouinard.
Wanderlust # 5- 1 Palm 1 Year
A palm tree in Florida, on our 1 year wedding anniversary.
Ending with this one because I see glimpses of my current photography style just making their debut. At the time, I didn’t feel super creative, but we all have to learn where to tell our inner critics to go, don’t we?
Hope you’ve enjoyed the visual archive this week, thanks for traveling with me🫶🏻
Somewhere in North Carolina, 2011
Wanderlust #4- A Single Serving of Mountain
Appalachia.
Will there be bugs?
Will there be humidity?
Will there be gorgeous views, lines, curves predating us humans?
You betcha.
Wanderlust #2- A Road Trip to Colorado
The year was 2009. Two crazy kids decided to drive to Colorado from Alabama in under 24 hours, because everyone said it couldn’t be done.
It can be done, but not recommended.
We stayed in a place with no heat, made friends with a pothead, sledded down an icy hill at midnight while a young eastern European gentleman remarked how awesome everything was, but with more colorful language… our car broke down, our snow shoes didn’t work, and our minds were blown an the x-games. There was food poisoning, frozen laundry, a blizzard on the interstate at 3am.
The entire thing makes me look back and smile. Enjoy these snaps at 4:3.
Portland Japanse Garden, 2022
Gardens
Gardens don’t just happen. They come about as a product of intention, tending, time, and a little bit of biological luck. One might say they’re a lot of work. Maybe even too much work. But the soul of a place, the enrichment from the fruits, or harvests, or even just being there with all senses, these are rewards worth any of the perceived toil. A garden can be a messy wild place, a dormant place, a manicured place, a thriving place. All of it a part of the seasons, all of it pointing to the balance of what it means to be a garden. I’m so grateful for these spaces.
To Bryan, Happiest 16th Anniversary. I love you.
Pardon
Washington State has tulips on the brain this month. I know, I know. "Florals? For Spring? Groundbreaking." BUT to keep things interesting, I’ll also leave you with a snippet of Emerson’s Hamatraya. One particular line is pulled out of context and printed on many a mass-produced garden sign, while the rest of the poem is, in fact, quite dark. I recommend you read the entire thing!
“..Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds:
And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough.
Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
Clear of the grave..”
🌬️
“..to slip again over my faculties the viewless fetters of an uniform and too still existence..”
-Charlotte Brontë
Mornings
One of those gloriously messy weekday mornings where we managed to get out the door early, good attitudes still in tact. I also had the wherewithal to grab my camera, given the conditions seemed conducive to drama over the lake. It’s a beautiful thing when plans work, and we get a nice little break from perpetual adaptation.
Coming On but Slowly
Things taking time
to be what they will,
Ideas forming along
state change lines.
Does this death feel more illusionary
Since feeling and love and promise
spring forth from what’s left of it?
deconsecrated
more than a dress
My lifelong friend, Stephanie, modeling her wedding dress in the PNW, for no other reason than celebrating.
“Just because”- I’m always down for that.
Grand Canyon (Yellowstone)
Believe me, I shot all the waterfall pictures too. 😉
Both/And
Sometimes an image captures a feeling so much better than anything I could write. Today is one of those times. All the best this week, friends!
the Myth of Diana
Despite reactionary rage, fully-coated anger,
a full inflicted fit of self importance, willingness to reck and ruin,
destruction for the promise of successful conquest,
Softness plays the long game.
Long after the most bitter of battles,
sometimes Softness wins.
Hopes on humanity, nature, and our place in this world we continue to influence.
Unexpected
Morning came on. A symphony.
Nothing, then notions, the faintest hint of sound,
and before we realized it,
a song forte
played for all who were awake to hear and see.
