lens-artists: first thing i thought of

This week Tina (Travels and Trifles) invites lens-artists to share photographs that bring a bit of humor into their lives. As I have found that photo walks are like treasure hunts where each click of the camera is tucking images into a bag of treasures … only to be opened when one is at home. The images below brought moments of humor that I hope you enjoy.

Only if I could poppy speak.

Yep! A foretelling of academia!

How does a children’s slide become the Fantom of the Opera?

Ready, set, and off flying she goes!

lens-artists: serenity

This week Egídio (Through Brazilian Eyes) invites lens-artists to share images of serenity. What is serenity?

In the stillness 
Between the arrival of guests 
The peonies.
~Buson

Transient

A gentle awakening to unintended stilled silence?

Hidden, evasive, denied as yearning seeks another state of being?

lens-artists: my go-to-places

Dawns’ light

Sutcliffe rarely left Whitby [a port and resort community on the Yorkshire coast], where his portrait studio kept him busy, and said that he was ‘tethered for the greater part of each year by a chain, at most only a mile or two long.’  To most modern photographers this would seem a crippling restriction, but Sutcliffe gradually realized that it was an asset to him as a photographer since it forced him to concentrate on the transitory effects that could transform familiar scenes. …photographers should always aim for something more than ‘mere postcard records of facts.’ ‘By waiting and watching for accidental effects of fog, sunshine or cloud,’ he advised, ‘it is generally possible to get an original rendering of any place.  If we only get what any one can get at any time, our labour is wasted; a mere record of facts should never satisfy us.’

cited: Frank Meadow Sutcliffe, The History of Photography Series, p 8

Horsetooth Reservoir

Journeys with John invites lens-artists to “share where you go or what you do to help lift those spirits when this old world starts getting you down”.

lens-artists: it’s a wild life!

“And he sailed off through night and day. And in and out of weeks. And almost over a year to where the wild things are.”*

“Max said ‘BE STILL!‘ and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things.”*

“And now,” cried Max, “let the wild rumpus start!”*

“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”*

Submitted in response to Egídio’s lens-artists challenge, “I would love to see your wild side.”

*Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are

lens-artists: life’s changes

trailed with clouds

the layered memories

of time forever gone

stands between us now

in this spring dawn

There is an earth-shattering moment that barges into a life, unexpectedly, shifting and tearing apart everything … everything in the heart held to be true. After the denial, disassociation, and numbing begin to ease, there is a knowing that the “before you” has been ripped away and now an “ongoing emerging you” has begun a never-ending search for THE door of clarity and resolution. Within that search life continues. Life with its births and deaths. Life creating pathways of sorrow and joy. Pathways of contemplation created through photography and haiku.

rain falls

memories of lost years

left by a cloud

My mother’s passing in the spring of 2016, expected yet unexpected, occurred during this journey with WordPress. The intention to validate my mother’s life opened a gate of posting 100 days of contemplative photography and haiku to remember, honor, and share the life of a woman, my mom.

meandering tales

beyond a haze of tear drops

my mother’s face – mine.

Memories of my mom often come to visit…they are remembered moments that announce her arrival, not as the frail woman with a fierce determination that time had transformed formed but the woman who carried with her the stature of Danish Vikings…warriors, explorers, conquerors, survivors.

morning haze

jewels of rain, falling

in a dream

In our next spring

let’s meet as butterflies

afield

Though we are parted,

If on Casper Mountain Peak

I should honor the sound

of the pine trees swaying there –

with the summer breeze.

After my mother’s memories fade and life’s present moments come into focus I often wonder … if we had met – not as mother-daughter – but as children in a playground would she have wanted to be my friend? I know she would have been my bestest of friends.

Thank you Anne (Slow Shutter Speed) for the invitation to share what has “enriched and/or changed” my life.