There is beauty in both of these photos.
One a bit messy and overloaded, one with a clearer vision.
I don’t have a preference as to which photo speaks to me more vividly.
I only know I was drawn to take both.
There will be changes and maybe periods of silence, but I felt a bit lost without this space.
I don’t claim to fully have a vision yet, but maybe that is okay.
a bit of a BREAK
I fear that this space, this blog is a bit like my little ginkgo, a living fossil that is just hanging on. And while my ginkgo will burst to life again come spring, I am not sure this space will. I have been blogging now for twenty years and I think I might be done.
For now I am going to take a bit of a break for month or so, to see how it feels.
I will keep you posted.
I read somewhere that the ginkgo tree will drop its leaves all at once, overnight. Mine has been shedding its bright, yellow leaves over the past few days, and this morning there were a few stragglers hanging on the tree, but most were on the ground.
The Ginkgo biloba is one of the oldest living tree species in the world. It's the sole survivor of an ancient group of trees that date back to before dinosaurs roamed the earth.
It’s so ancient, the species is known as a 'living fossil'.
the Winter birds
“Every night, before he turned in, he would write in the book. He wrote about things he had done, things he had seen, and thoughts he had had. Sometimes he drew a picture. He always ended by asking himself a question so he would have something to think about while falling asleep.”
― E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
We find a back farm road full of winter birds. They are something to watch when they take off or land. The autumn colors are the perfect backdrop for their beauty.
The kids drop Percy off for a spur of the moment visit while they run out to meet some friends. He and I clean his sandbox trucks off so he can play with them in the house. Later I go to bed thinking about how grateful I am that we made this move three years ago.
a NEW season
“We're so engaged in doing things to achieve purposes of outer value that we forget the inner value, the rapture that is associated with being alive, is what it is all about.”
― Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth
It is funny how one thing will lead to another. How sometimes we are forced to change something, even though we fight it, resisting the process just as much as the change. These past few weeks I have spent hours among old photographs, as I moved ten years of photos to safe keeping when I had to buy a new computer. I deleted, moved precious ones to the cloud, made folders for simple books, spent more than a few hours looking for lost links, and questioned why. I did however, come out the other side with a clearer view of where I will go from here.
This has happened numerous times in my lifetime and not just with photography. I did it with motherhood, teaching, cooking, gardening, etc . . . I am beginning to think it is the way life is suppose to be. We dive head first into something that makes us curious, moves us in some way, and if we allow ourselves to not question the why, we just might come out the other side with a life-long passion.
But just like I put the garden to rest at some point each season, I see now that it was time to put that old backlog of photos aways too, as they were weighing me down.
Every year, when I take that first step out into the garden as spring arrives, I scan it. I make plans to try new things. I move old perennials, add compost and top soil, I order new seed varieties for the vegetable beds, and prune out old wood to make room for new growth.
Maybe this is the season to do the same with my photography.
thursday
I stand at the kitchen window and watch the rain, listening to it hit the window. The generous drops roll swiftly down the windowpane causing everything to blur. Both Percy and Grandpa are napping, along with the dog. It is that kind of day. I clean up the lunch dishes, turn on the water to make some chai tea and allow the quiet to encompass me as I remember the morning activities, wanting to ingrain thems within my memory. For I will want to revisit them later.
These are the days of my life, and November is the perfect month to take note of them.
the tug of my heart
Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.
- Gladys Taber
I wake early most days to have a couple of hours or so to myself. Time to gather my thoughts, and write a few words. While my days are pretty much my own now, they are still full, and come nightfall I am tired, good for nothing more than a hour or so of TV.
I look back sometimes, revisiting the different ways I have filled my days over the years and find, for the most part, a logical flow to them. Needs and desires change, as do responsible and goals. It is the natural flow of things and I don’t question how I filled those days, like I use to.
Today I find myself letting go of old self-expectations and allowing myself to fill my days with those things that tug at my heart: light, curiosity, love and beauty. For today I have nothing to prove.
the hydrangea
And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money, I don't even want to come in out of the rain.
- Mary Oliver
The same hydrangea bush turns a plethora of colors throughout the season. I can’t decide which I like best and make an effort to photograph them all. This year many of the blooms dried up mid-season, however I found their blooms still amazing. I took to deep watering and the later blooms blessed me with rich, deep shades of color. Now the rain has taken over, soaking their blooms and the ground they grow in.