Wind

I ride my bike to the top of South Table Mountain.  

In wind, flower and grass bend and rush.  

Mask the sound of my passing. 

The sounds of human existence mute once entering hidden valley.  

Wind rush and bird song intensify.
I diminish, blend with the landscape.  

Listen.  

Wind you are my paint brush, the scribe of my mind and memory, 

portrait of my day in the land.

Some Peace

May Away I am Okay..

As always, when it snows a heavy wet snow, I go to the Red Rocks.  Morrison formation above the Hogback.  The wet white snow sags on every leaf, every blade of grass.  It makes everything quiet.  The usual Sunday tourists stay home and wish they were me.   Out in the snow.  

This image is not film.  Of course.  I have been unable to come to terms with some social things in my life so I have not been working with my wonderful film gear.  I have a very good digital camera but it does not feel good to my tripod.  I would rather use my phone than a camera that has no soul.  It is far to easy to shoot shoot shoot, when your only consequence is time.

Dave

Ebb...

I have been stymied of late, well for nearly a year.  I have had to work very hard at all day jobs that I have been lucky enough to find thus limiting my opportunities to practice my chemistry and film process development.  This image is not resultant from my process development expertise, but is a reflection of my feelings today, this snowy day, Mother's Day in May.