When M. and I were camping, I tried to take pictures of whatever random things struck me...completely in an emotional way--not making sense of things with the rational mind I'm always so stuck on. Each image tells a story for me of place, time, and love. Though the trip ended in a way I didn't want (we had to come home a day early due to my illness)--it truly was a time for us to touch down together. A day spent in the hammock reading books or listening to Iron & Wine? No problem. Do you want to take a five mile hike without packing tons of child gear, fruit snacks, and band-aids? We can. Things that I never would have thought about before we had our children...things parents need if they want to embrace life as fully as possible. When our daughters and our son go, if we do it right--M. and I will still have a whole series of shared adventures ahead of us.
Blue Rocks Glacier--over 300 million years old. The ancient mountains of the East coast have eroded down to curvaceous green hills, womanly and alive--small when compared to the rugged giants West of here. This glacier was an estimated mile thick, until it came to the valley and melted away...leaving only these churned up rocks to bear witness. And I thought to myself, what do I need to leave behind?
If you are ever lost on the Pinnacle trail about a half mile towards the summit in Pennsylvania, M. sends his apologies to you. Reaching out to grip this willowy trail-marker tree as he passed, it suddenly fell over beneath his palm with a crushing break. It was soft from the fungi and deterioration of many years, so I cannot really say it was M.'s fault--but, knowing what I do about him...it isn't really a surprise that he could fell a tree with the faintest whisper of a touch.
This is one view from the top of the peak at Pulpit Rock. We sat there counting clouds and farms, and discerning sheep grazing over the obscenely green fields through binoculars. It was cold every day we were there--I scaled these rocks wearing two pairs of jeans, a tank top, a t-shirt, and a sweater. This just made me notice the sun that much more intensely...I was looking for gifts wherever I could find them.
Lichen caught my attention--I took countless shots of them in shadow and morning sun, blossoming on the trail and in between random rocks. Their slow evolution encouraged me to sit still. I am so frantic lately with all I'm trying to accomplish...the magazine work, the articles, the book(s)I'm writing, the kids, the house, the desperate gardens, the teaching job I am back to once again. I sat and watched the light breaking over the hues of white and green and my breath slowed down and I thought, if I could only take this moment with me.
I might take this one, too...the way the sky split open above this field. That vast blue wide enough to hold me. I needed to watch these trees reach out beyond their grasp--because it's what I'm trying to do in my life. My only mantra: May I have this much flowering grace...