Is there any phrase more ominous than “you need to see exactly what you’ve done”?
11/22/63
Ominous Fade
Nature
GARGABETE
Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.
― Jack Kerouac
In the middle of winter
“O light! This is the cry of all the characters of ancient drama brought face to face with their fate.
This last resort was ours, too, and I knew it now.
In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.”
― Albert Camus, L’été
24mm ISO64 1/160s f/10
out of hell
Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light
― John Milton, Paradise Lost
of small things
But now I know the things I know
And do the things I do,
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you.
― Dorothy Parker
*Images made with Nikon D850 and AF Micro Nikkor 60mm f/2.8 D lens and edited in Lightroom*
green new deal?
And now we welcome the new year
full of things that have never been
― Rainer Maria Rilke
New trees, new hope, a pair of robins, a family of blackbirds and assorted wagtails have made their new home amidst the olive grove (well, there are now two such trees). Nature has shown that even a brief respite from the toxic side products of human endeavour pays (green) dividends.
Let’s hope ‘we the people’ can now renew and heal as we transition to a new year, working together to heal differences and put aside toxic divisions.
(newly planted) olive tree: 1/200s, f/8.0, ISO 64
(newly planted) magnolia: 1/200s, f8.0, ISO 64
(precocious) prunus: 1/200s f/8.0, ISO 64
(ready for new residents) White House 1/200s f/8.0, ISO 64
*All images made with Nikon D850 and AF-S Nikkor 24-70mm f/2.8E VR lens with limited edits in Lightroom*
after the fall
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
– Albert Camus
*my very first attempt at macro photography, made with my Nikon D850 and Nikkor AF Micro 60mm f/2.8D lens, edited in Lightroom Classic with cool light filter applied*
how the flowers felt
The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.―
*Images made with Fujifilm X100F with fixed 23mm f/2 lens, edited in Lightroom with Fujifilm Classic Chrome applied*
out in the midday sun
“and from the ends of the earth, across the thousands of miles of land and sea, kindly, well-meaning speakers tried to voice their fellow-feeling, and indeed did so, but at the same time proved the utter incapacity of every man truly to share in suffering that he cannot see…”
– Albert Camus, The Plague
Today, I will let my photos tell my story.
Except, one more thing?
Some words, from a colleague with whom I am fortunate to be working (in a virtual sense), who observed (more or less) “our planet has been suffering a fever for some time, now that we too have a fever, perhaps we will change”.
He nailed it.
Coronavirus is presenting us with not only what is perceived (by some) as an existential threat but perhaps also the reverse. Pollution across the world is down, perhaps because people, people like me, are grounded.
So, are we up for a change? I am, even if only in a small way. Every little helps, no?
And, perhaps as my photos suggest, we may be down, but our planet, nature is surely not.
Stay safe everyone.
…and a p.s. as expected, the hotel has (this morning Friday, 27 March) informed we remaining sixteen guests that they are considering closing next Wednesday. So my nomadic lifestyle continues, another twist and turn, watch this space.
*all images hand crafted with iPhone 11 Pro 4.25mm f/1.8 lens, unedited*
andy townend 