Photo Journal

Savoring Transition

Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day. But if we forget to savor the world, what possible reason do we have for saving it? In a way, the savoring must come first.

E. B. WHITE

December 29, 2022 - Geese calling and flying overhead

December 29, 2022. My Birthday. I stopped by the pier near The Red Dock in Saugatuck to get a look at the frozen water, when a flock of geese flew overhead. I heard them before I saw them. Noisy and lovely.

December 29, 2022- A Squirrel figuring out his next move.

December 29, 2022. The squirrels are back at the bird feeders. They hid up in their nests during the blizzard and the birds had the feeders all to themselves. Even though squirrels are a little greedy and I have to replenish the food more often again, I have to admit, I love to watch them. They are ingenious and athletic, and just a little bit crazy. I still try to make it difficult for them; but I don’t chase them off. Much.

December 29, 2022 - Hanging by the tips of his toes.

December 31, 2022 - Heart of Birch in the woods.

December 31, 2022. Last day of the year, and I woke up feeling blue. It happens to me every year around this time, holidays, my birthday, year’s end…

I found a quote by Khalil Gibran, “Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.” That feels apt. December 31 is a day of transition and sometimes transition is hard.

I decided to take a walk in the woods behind my house, if not to feel better, at least to clear my head. I saw the white outline of a heart I made from birch remnants earlier in the year and decided to fill it in with more fallen pieces of birch. Doing things like this makes me feel a little lighter because it keeps my mind and body occupied while I’m “working” and I know it will make my neighbors smile later.

December 31, 2022 - The deer re-emerge from the woods.

December 31, 2022. Later in the day, the deer re-emerged. During the snowstorm and frigid weather before and during Christmas, they kept to the woods, where they could stay out of the wind and blowing snow, and huddle together. They didn’t reappear in my yard right away, even after the storm passed, maybe because they know they are more visible against the white backdrop. The snow is all melted now. I was happy to see them wandering through my yard again, especially the little one below, who broke her leg a few weeks ago. I am so glad she’s alive and healing.

December 31, 2022 - Young doe recovering from a foot injury eyeing me.

Waiting for Spring

Behind the black gate

obscured by mist, the trees sleep

in a gold meadow.

January 1, 2023 - Trees framed in metal, curtained in fog - like a secret garden.

“January is the month for dreaming.” - JEAN HERSEY

January 1, 2023. First morning of the year the lake shore area looked like a foggy dream world. I decided not to make specific resolutions this year the way I normally have, but to focus on some broader themes.

The first one, savor, was chosen for me by my friend Wendy. I love this. It is why I chose the quote by EB White at the beginning of this post. This morning I savored the fog in all its mystery.

The second is listen. Not unlike savoring, it requires attention and appreciation. Today, listening, I heard the blue jay’s piercing cry (hawk-like) through the fog because I decided not to wear headphones while running.

The third and fourth are slow down and deepen relationships. I want to slow down, doing one thing at a time, instead of multi-tasking, hurrying from task to task; place to place. I want to deepen my relationships, because it is too easy to take my husband, family and friends for granted and forget that at any moment; they could be taken away from me. In the end, only love matters.

We’ll see how the year unfolds.

January 1, 2023 - Mournful Angel

January 3, 2023 - Morning in Miami Beach.

January 2, 2023. My first sunrise in Miami Beach after a long day of travel (and delays) yesterday. I try to make it out for every sunrise when I’m here. The beach is not crowded so early, and I see a lot of familiar faces, “the sunrise crew,” as I think of them. The sun rises earlier here than in Michigan, but it is worth getting up extra early for.

December’s Bare Beauty

So quiet and subtle is the beauty of December that escapes the notice of many people their whole lives through. Colour gives way to form: every branch distinct, in a delicate tracery against the sky. New vistas, obscured all Summer by leafage, now open up.

Flora Thompson

December 7, 2022 - A Tree in Fog

Missouri Mist

It is morning in Missouri.

Overnight a fog crept into the field

where I slept,

soaking the earth,

dripping from the barbed wire,

clinging like diamonds

to a tuft of grass caught there,

coating the trees - delineating

every darkened limb

against the blue grey sky.

 

I walk into the mist

along a lonely farm road

and these bare beauties

emerge one by one-

disappearing

as I pass

quietly,

cloaked in solitude.

December 7, 2022 - lonely drop from barbed wire

December 7, 2022 - a thousand gems

November 29, 2022 - Three Red Berries

November 29, 2022 - Fennville, Michigan. It has been gray and cold today. I decided to look for small beauties - like these berries and the dried buds and wildflowers that follow.

November 29, 2022 - Dried before blooming

 

December 3, 2022 - Wild flower

December 3, 2022 - Sun setting through a fallen pine limb

December 3, 2022 - Fennville, MI - The golden sun was out again today, after a few days of clouds. When it set, I saw a pretty little fallen limb of pine on the beach and thought I would like to see how it would light up the needles if I could get a picture through them. It was windy, and I had to kneel in the sand, but I really liked the result.

December 8, 2022 - hold the haloed moon

December 8, 2022 - Robber’s Cave State Park - Oklahoma. This is the first night I’ve been able to see the moon at night on this trip. Haloed and hallowed. I love the way the bare limbs seem to be reaching out for it.