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I think that's all.

-L

Impeccable.

Stop. Watch this. Now. No, really. Watch it.

Lost and Found

I brought the viewfinder up to my eye one day in November and this is what I found. 

Then, a few months later, I cleared out my card and found them again. 

Found and lost and found again.

1/50 @f/2.8 ISO400

1/100 @ f/2.8 ISO800


Oh! Possibilities!
-L

A fresh start and the side of the Earth

Dwell in Possibility.

P.S. I fell off the side of the Earth for a while, and I do apologize. It was an incredibly exciting place full of real life things. The people were great and the days were long, but I'm back!  I'll write about it sometime.

Happy New Year. 

Happy New Beginnings,
Happy New Mornings.
Happy New Evenings.
Happy New Rolls of film.
Happy New Summertime.
Happy New January 4th, 2011
Happy New Journal.
Happy New Eyes to see,
Happy New Ears to hear.
Happy New Outpouring of God's Spirit.
Happy New Revelation of the Man Jesus Christ.
Happy "Behold, I'm making all things new"year.

December is for Snowflake Poetry

SNOW-FLAKES

Out of the bosom of the Air,
  Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
  Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
    Silent, and soft, and slow
    Descends the snow. 

Even as our cloudy fancies take
  Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
  In the white countenance confession,
    The troubled sky reveals
    The grief it feels. 

This is the poem of the air,
  Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
  Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
    Now whispered and revealed
    To wood and field. 

 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Christmas Tree Hunting/Lumberjacking

November Love

"I think true love is never blind

but rather brings an added light

an inner vision quick to find 

the beauties hid from common sight."

Enough

The Arrow and The Song

November sometimes gets a bad rap. Cold winds wrap around the midwest, forcing the summery windows closed.  November comes causing the farmer to race against the frost for the life of his crop. The college student stumbles around in their top drawer for a pair of warmer socks. November is an honest month. It's usually overcast, rainy, cold. There is nothing to hide here. 

 Children with sleep still in their eyes wait early by the driveway, speaking breath into the air, waiting for the school bus. The trees wave white flags and give up the last of their armory of golden and auburn leaves. The direction of the light changes. Fall has come, and it quite nearly gone. 

 November is my favorite month. 

 And here is a poem that I love today  by my friend Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.

Honestly, 

L.