autumn sun

December 1, 2025, Monday morning … last night’s snow powder left by the season’s first snowfall … mystery creating mist …

First snow! I see it young every winter, 
Yet my face grows old 
As Winter comes.

~The Diary of Izumi Shikibu (1002-1003 AD)*

*Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan

lens-artist: street details

at my feet
when did you get here?
snail
~Issa*

the street’s world of feet in action…

This week Ritva invites Lens-Artists to “… skip the classic street-portrait approach and reveal the often-hidden, magical world, of the details we never take the time to​ notice anymore.”

*haikuguy.com

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.

life’s passages … 103

over the fields of

last night’s snow–

plum fragrance.

                                                                                      ~Okano Kin’emon Kanehide*

plums and raindrops
a spring rain shower

*cited:

Japanese Death Poems

Yoel Hoffmann

 

life passages … 99

Is my mind elsewhere

Or has it simply not sung?

Hototogisu*

~Ihara Saikaku (1642-1693)**

*Hototogisu, translated as cuckoo, wood thrush and sometimes nightingale.

The bird’s song is a strong but mournful cry.

It is said to die after singing 8,008 times.

It is also known as the “bird of time,”

“messenger of death” and “bird of disappointed love,”

and flies back and forth from this world to the next.

Confucian axiom: If one’s mind is elsewhere, one will look but not see, listen but not hear

**cited in:

The Classic Tradition of Haiku

Edited by:  Faubion Bowers