I’ve lost count of the times I’ve photographed this dying tree. In some ways, it’s become my muse. On misty mornings, while faster things work to be settled, the birds, the air, the traffic from the highway, this tree is resolute. How is it weathering this? What changes has it made? Is it somehow thriving towards the end, despite the sharpness of the natural spire, that grows thiner and less dense each year? My gaze hits it often in mornings I feel frantic, needing to know it hasn’t fallen in the night. That, despite the decay, it’s still standing, doing its thing.
She
There are some conservationists who are opposed to fishing and hunting, but I’m sorry, they are not thinking it through. In order to transpose mere interest into passionate love requires proactive behavior. The road is an uphill one because today’s youth of the digital world are raised with offers of passive, instant gratification. Can a person raised in that environment ever fish all day without a bite? Maybe it should be mandatory for schools to provide environmental study from grade one in which there is no computer involved, or any other electronic visual aide, only calm, analytical conversation mixed in with visits to if not wild places at least rural ones.
― Yvon Chouinard
Food for thought, from the quietly-provoking Chouinard.
Unexpected
Morning came on. A symphony.
Nothing, then notions, the faintest hint of sound,
and before we realized it,
a song forte
played for all who were awake to hear and see.
