water

I dreamt I was taking photographs of the moon last night. But when I awoke, this is the image I was musing about.

It is the late evening flight of a great blue heron to its fishing hole where there is still a slight shine on the water.

I thought of this image rather than this one of the moon over Georgeson Island I took a little over a years ago.

Or this one of the moon at the waters edge.

I have always been a low-light or fall and winter photographer. Having extremely light sensitive eyes, it is in this light that my eyes are most relaxed – and my being is most receptive to what is going on around me. Still, I haven’t spent a lot of time setting up to shoot at night. Yes, setting up is required because a tripod is almost an essential. I did take these moonlight photographs without one – it is not recommended.

Every night

the owl

with his wild monkey-face

calls through the black branches,

and the mice freeze

in the snowy fields —

and then there is the long, deep trough of silence

when he stops singing, and steps

into the air.

From “Lonely, White Fields” by Mary Oliver

Sprout Question: Do you create using both your day and your night experiences?

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

I wrote the following quote last night for a friend. This morning I realize that is perfect to accompany us on a short stroll we are about to take.

As we “face the winds of the world” stand barefoot on mother earth. If the winds become fierce, go lower and place your belly against hers. In this way we can remain vulnerable, humble and filled with fire-strength to see our vision through.

Our stroll is on a day that it is late morning before enough daylight seeps into the corners of my studio to warrant turning the lamp off. The heavy clouds wrap around me like tangled blankets in a nightmare. We go for an overdue lunch. Our usual walk is only a sultry possibility against pending rain. A drive seems like our best option. Bumping around potholes under the tall trees I have a moment of total defiance. Without comment or signaling (we have met no one on the road in the past fifteen minutes) I dip the old Volvo down a side road to Navy Channel. Once there is it a short slop to the waters edge.

At first there seems to be little to see but gray clouds, flat silvery water and high tides.

Then my attention is drawn to things closer to me – things near my feet.

When was that rock so soft that it squished like that? Or is its smoothness from wave action?

Oh look, there is a rock embedded in that piece of driftwood. How long they have been together? How far have they traveled?

All the while, gentle waves slowly move in and out over the sand, bumping the driftwood and calming my jangled west coast winter nerves.

I become one with the moving water, the stone the wood.

I move closer, crouching. It is here I find my still-point. I find my inner peace within the heavy solitude.

View image in full resolution here.

Okay, we can put our socks and shoes back on now. Yes, that pebble… the one that was caught between your toes – put it in your pocket to remind you.

Sprout Question: When was the last time you were vulnerable and barefoot against the belly of mother earth?

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.