lens artists

lens artists: summer daze

After we moved into town I roamed through a backyard that extended south to the Yampa River, north over the creek and up the hill behind our home, and to the eastern and western edges of town.

During that summer the only concerns she expressed were to be home before dark and to wait an hour after eating as I [joined] a group of friends on the dirt path to the Yampa river with worn, faded, and tattered bath towels draped over our shoulders. Black inner tubes of various sizes dragged behind us filling the air with the pungent scent of faded rough rubber. The sounds of splashing water and laughter would fill the air as we gathered along the river bank and swam to the sandbar. No parents…no supervision. Freedom.

My mother gifted me freedom. (cited: My Mother Came to Visit, b c kofford)

A Summer Daze

… the repeating tic-tic-tic swoosh of the water sprinkler’s voice with its tiny fingers of ice cold water drops … tickling and awakening goose bumps.

… the freedom of bare feet — bare feet freed from school shoes and rubber boots … running across fields with their dandelions, clover, and tall wild grasses; bees, butterflies, and dragonflies; as well as, unknown caves filled with magic carpets, hidden treasures of gold and diamonds, and invisible sailing ships. Coming into the house and instantly hearing my mother’s voice, “Go wash those feet! Who knows what dirt and germs you have picked up!”

(Translation: You are home … a home filled with a mother’s love and care)

… weekend trips to the library … books lined upon shelves … filled with the richness of words … brought home to bring to life stories slumbering within pages and creating imagined adventures out of treasure boxes filled with rummy-sale clothes and trinkets.

“No! You may not build a raft to float down the river, NO!”

… an aging self looking back for long ago summers … an aging self, locked into a present, fatigued by the absence of summer’s afternoon showers and drained by summer’s drying heat … missing, wishing, for those Sunday drives to Never Summer*

*Designated in 1980, the Never Summer Wilderness area is located mostly within the Arapahoe National Forest. Situated to the west of Rocky Mountain National Park, the Never Summer Wilderness area, including the Never Summer Mountain Range, provides a beautiful backdrop for the famous mountain vistas from Trail Ridge Road.



lens artists: sense of scale

Sofia has invited photographers to explore the use of scale with images. She writes that scale is “… something that attracts our eyes more often than we think and intuitively we look for ways to convey the size of what we’re seeing.”

While the sun appears small within the wide expansion of the sky, the sun’s dawn invites an awareness of the expansive nature of the morning’s horizon.

Thank you Sofia for this invitation to explore sense of scale.

lens-artists: delicate

Today life feels exceptionally delicate.

Relationships are delicate

The wings of the butterfly are delicate. Their wings are made up of thousands of scales that can fall off if touched. Without these scales to protect their wings, the underlying tissue can tear, preventing them from flying. The scales are unable to regrow once damaged.

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Migrating is delicate. Each fall, millions of monarch butterflies migrate from Canada to Mexico. The monarch migration is a brilliant demonstration of nature’s ingenuity, but the delicate creatures face many perils, and the number of migrating monarchs is declining sharply.

Peace is delicate.

Submitted for this week’s lens-artists challenge: delicate