Friday, March 25, 2016

march on

just a bit of a visual post as this month has mostly been about observing. observing the changes, the flourishing, the wheel turning, the new, and the old. 

 first the daffodils and cherry blossoms, the apple blossoms and pear. now the red bud and forsythia, camellia, and tulips.
 the grass, the moss, the woodland weeds are all greening while the remaining islands of dead autumn leaves glare up at me and say, push me aside and let new life grow!

turning a fresh new leaf in my emotions as well with my unemployment ending 
sooner than  expected in early march as i landed a part time communications job at 
an awesome local nonprofit
 while i miss the creativity i had in my former job as product photographer, i don't miss it half as much as i thought i would. that whole experience feels a bit like fugue state. i am very excited to be in a bright new supportive environment where the mission for good has a clear and obvious impact. i am facing the new frontier from the other side of the lens and i know it will make my vision sharper. 
and so i am observing, learning, listening, testing, flowing, spinning, and carefully stepping along this new path, pushing old dead leaves aside, ready for bright new growth.

Thursday, March 03, 2016

march in

it is that unpredictable time of year when you don't know whether to pull on a t-shirt or turtleneck,  when you might be showered with rain, snow, or a sunny spring warmth.

earlier in the week we were gifted with sweet seasonal comfort, coupled with the growing light, allowing more outdoor time after tristan's school day.

every time we wander through the woods around our home i feel fortunate. and when the little creek has a healthy flow of water, even more so.

so much inspiration for the sketch pad 

there are always great discoveries when we march around in the woods. sometimes it's the clearest bits of quartz, a rusty old truck, a certain grove or land formation that makes the perfect fort, fish in the creek, feathers, bits of nature art. 

and always there are bones.

sometimes you walk as the dog walks, ducking under branches, skipping around thorns, splashing through the creek, and navigating fallen trees.

sometimes she gets very impatient with you as you stop to study something with your camera.

while i would welcome one more snow fall, i'm looking forward to the ease of slipping outside without jackets and hats, ready to explore the emerging season.