A natural riverside park were I went to relax – a long time ago.
Hoping for inspiration while writing a grant,
walking with my yellow lab who died a decade ago,
looking at a house nestled on a cliff across the river into which friends eventually moved but Connie died a couple of years ago, too young,
driving near there to visit a new friend, I noticed the flooding and came back today to take pictures,
happy with my memories.
Birgit:
Looks like you have some paintings in the offing.
Jay,
Perhaps. Water and Bark fits in with a picture that came to me as a dream and that I plan on painting – after I am done painting flames. As it says in the I Ching, water and flames are not compatible.
Birgit:
Makes me think of firewater. Makes me think of a video of people punching holes in an icy lake and igniting the bubbly product of a methane seep.
The bubbly product of a methane seep
Flick your Bic and the flames will leap
I’ll let you finish this inaugural doggerel.
Up to where the clouds weep
till all falls down in a soggy heap
Jay, my very first doggerel.
And well doggerelled indeed, Birgit.
Birgit,
Your pictures seem to have a certain low-key sadness and a suggestion of something missing. Perhaps it’s the nearly bare trees. But when one notices the new leaves coming, one is left feeling a bit more optimistic.
I may be odd in caring little for the personal memories that are linked to pictures. What I mean is I think I’d like a given photograph equally whether it was one of mine, which I could recall making, or someone else’s, which I couldn’t possibly remember. I’m always much more interested in the photograph itself
Steve,
Would you still consider the images low-key sad if you had not read the accompanying story? The nature was alive, stirring with ducks choosing their mating grounds.
Picture 1 shows my beloved diagonals. Picture 2, I could imagine the bunch of trees whirling around, dancing. Perhaps, picture 3 is a little somber except for the green sprigs in front. Picture 4 was all spring promise. The strip of grass was iridescent green, perhaps more so than in the photograph.
This morning, not mourning the loss of my dog and Connie, a more distant friend, I feel more upbeat about the pictures.
We appear to differ in our balance of the emotional versus the intellectual.
I have to say, despite the text, these photos brought up unpleasant reactions for me. “A certain slant of light” I suppose.
Too much raw nature?
Maybe. Not how to put it into words (says the poet to the artist)
oops. I guess I really meant that.
Not sure how to put it into words.
Poetry has been shortchanged since my adolescence. Perhaps, there is hope for me.