photo essay · walking

Four Views

I have a fondness for taking pictures of this church. These four pictures taken on different days at different times in different weather between December 2020 and January 2021. I think it’s this whole corner that I like because to the immediate left of this church is this tree which I also take pictures of. This particular walk that I go on is about 3.5 miles long and sometimes it starts out being a bit of a struggle but by the time I get to this corner which is about a third of the way through I’ve hit my stride. It’s a marker and so I guess I like to document it to remember that no matter how much I think I’d rather stay home and lay about it’s always better to get out and be among the trees.

looking · photo essay · photos · walking

twelve days

Taken twelve days apart on December 3, 2020 and December 15, 2020 at roughly about the same time of day – late afternoon. The tree is so bare now that you can literally see the two trees behind whose trunks were only visible in the first photo. But look at those wonderful leaves still hanging on in the smaller tree. Still holding on. Standing guard until the bitter end.

looking · photo essay · photos · walking

11.18.2020

Photos from a walk last week.

Grey skies. Gloomy weather. Yesterday it rained. Not a lot, more like a heavy drizzle if even that. Not enough to use the windshield wipers while driving, only enough to wipe the drops off in between errands. It was watch a movie weather. Curl up on the couch with a good book weather. If I had a fireplace, make a fire kind of weather. Today the weather is sort of like yesterday but it feels different. I don’t know what it was but yesterday felt good. Like some kind of bridge from what was to what can be. Maybe it’s because I didn’t spend hours on Twitter soaking up bad news like a dirty sponge. There is a peace of mind in that, that I want to hold on to. But then this morning I forgot myself and let go. Maybe that’s the difference. It’s a constant roller coaster ride of wanting to be informed and wanting to curl up inside my own little bubble.

Anyway, here’s a song I listened to ten times in a row as one does.

looking · photo · photo essay · walking

10.8.2020

I love it when I see random stuff on my walks. This calendar was on top of a bush.

And this take out menus book? Not even sure what that is. Is it some sort of binder for take out menus? I suppose I could have looked inside but I was carrying a bag of sushi and fried chicken and cake and eager to get home… and look! A newspaper! Not so random.

Free books! They never have anything I want but I always get excited just the same.

And look! Another newspaper! I love newspapers. I went to Books Inc. this past weekend and bought a couple of Sunday papers. I haven’t been inside a store other than grocery stores or Target since March… I was in a bank once. Working my way up to the Farmers Market. Not really a store – but still crowded.

(That’s one weird paragraph.)

looking · photo essay · walking

Simple Things

I have lived in this area for a little over 16 years. I only meant to live here for six months. That was the plan. God. Plans. Insert laughter. Next month at this time I will be vacuuming the carpet for the last time, dropping my key off at the manager’s apartment and driving a hundred miles north to start a new chapter. It’s a move up in more ways than one although in these uncertain times I’m not sure for how long. But it will give me a chance to take a deep breath while I figure out the rest. So in between packing and taking care of things and finding a mover and letting go and moving on I hope to get a little more walking in especially to places I haven’t normally gone. During these past six months I’m learning to take one day at a time and I think I’m getting better at it. Taking pleasure in simple things. Washing dishes. Making tea. Throwing a three day worn shirt into the hamper. Learning Japanese. Putting on music. Opening the window to fresh air. Blue skies.

Especially blue skies.

photo · reading · walking

9.1.2020

High up in an apartment block in Toronto, Viggo Mortensen was padding around barefoot, cleaning up the kitchen after lunch and speaking, in his soft-voiced way, about his longing for immortality. “I’m not afraid of death,” he said, wiping down a counter with a damp cloth, “but I resent it. I think it’s unfair and irritating. Every time I see something beautiful, I not only want to return to it, but it makes me want to see other beautiful things. I know I’m not going to get to all the places I want to go. I’m not going to read all the books I want to read. I’m not going to revisit certain paintings as many times as I would like. There’s a limit.” He paused. “I mean, I understand limits are good for character and all that, but I would rather live forever.”

Viggo Mortensen (New York Times Style Magazine – December 2011)

Some things stay with you. I have gone past the age when I realize I will never have time to read all the books I want to read. That I will never see enough sunsets to fill my heart. That I will never accomplish the things I wanted to. Laziness. Lack of courage. Fear. But I don’t want to live forever either. The time we have is the time we have. You start from where you are is what they say. I mean, where else are you going to start?

I’m not sure where I’m going here except that last evening I got my butt up and drove to the lake near where I live and walked a little and saw the sun set – peaking through the smoke of fires that have been burning for over two weeks now – and it was kind of beautiful.

Later:

A few days after our meeting, Mortensen called and left a message on voice mail. He had been thinking about what he’d said regarding immortality and he was concerned now that perhaps he had taken too vehement a position: “I know I said I wanted to live forever and I would never be bored, but the reality is, it’s probably kind of sad to live forever if you’re the only one sticking around. I guess living through injury and disease is pretty hard too, so I don’t know — maybe immortality is not such a great thing. You know, Freud accepted his lot very stoically and very well and with a sense of humor. He aged and died gracefully and there’s a lot to be said for that. Still, it would be nice to live a little longer, with your mind intact and your body reasonably functioning. . .”

looking · photo essay · walking

Evening Light

A little evening light. If I had to choose between evening light and morning light I’d think I’d choose the former. But by evening I have already settled in. Behavior learned from decades of going to bed early because of work. I forget now that there is nowhere I have to be the next morning and so going for a walk at dusk would be so easy and I forget how many times over the years I lamented that I could not. It’s funny the things we get use to even without our attention.

photo essay · walking

Love Is Love

Another walk around the neighborhood. I keep waiting for my neighbors to ask me why I’m taking a picture of their newspapers. The truth is I’m not really sure why, except there is something that draws me to them. Maybe it’s the way they randomly land, maybe it’s the shadows and the light (yes!), or maybe that when I was younger I wanted to be a journalist (okay maybe we’re getting somewhere here).