I have a thing for dead trees. Not a creepy, weird kind of thing, just an appreciation. I love the way they look. I’m fascinated by the variety of textures they have and by the lines they create.

I stumbled across this one while hiking with my husband a few years ago. I could have photographed it for hours. It was rainy that day; the bark was chocolate brown and the leaves on the surrounding trees were so green they practically glowed. It was an amazing sight.

While I originally took this photo in color, I think I like the black and white version better. For one thing, my original photo makes it look like the leaves on all the surrounding trees are attached to this one. But for another, I just don’t feel like I was able to truly capture the scene as I saw it. Maybe I just need more practice. Or maybe it was just one of those beautiful scenes that refuse to be preserved.

Incidentally, I’m having a similar problem with a short story at the moment. It refuses to cooperate, and finishing it was like pulling teeth. I’ve no doubt that revising it will be the same, so I’m going to work on another one for a little while and see if that helps.

Either way, I really like this picture, and I hope you enjoy it, too. 🙂

(c) 2016. All rights reserved.

As I said before, I love the wild places. The lonely places. Places where man’s influence is hard to feel. That kind of solitude can leave a person feeling tiny, insignificant even. Or it can leave you feeling huge, too big for the space you’re in.

Waiting for the bus…

Foggy days, though dreary, leave me a little claustrophobic. I often liken it to a curtain or shroud in poetry, and for me, it’s a fitting description. When you’re driving down the road and the fog is so thick you can barely see the front end of your car, it can feel suffocating. Of course, if I’m at home when the fog rolls in and I don’t have to leave the house, then I feel more cozy than trapped.

On the other hand, when you can see for miles, it’s very easy to feel very small. A leaf on the wind. And yet, that can be an amazing feeling, to know that you’re a part of something so big and that, though small, your actions can profoundly impact the world around you.

Take the man – men – who built this bridge. They probably expected it would be used forever, or at least for a very long time. They built it to last, and last it has.

But the trains don’t run through here no more.

It’s a picturesque little spot on the river, though, and I’d love to go back one day with my camera and my sense of adventure. There’s something about the wild, lonely places that draws me in every time…

(c) 2016. All rights reserved.