The poetry of the earth is never dead. …. John Keats
The poetry of the earth is never dead. …. John Keats
The greatest art ever produced doesn’t hang on museum or gallery walls, it won’t be found in books, photographs, private collections, or on the internet, it exists all around us in the daily exhibition created by nature.
An art that is vibrant, alive, and interactive.
Yup, another blog – a few days off before I begin the next job and been kind of on a blog binge, but there’s reason to my madness.
For close to the entirety of this blogs existence there have been those who suggested I post what I consider to be “keepers” in the literally thousands of photos I’ve taken over the years.
And by keepers I mean those I consider quality as the result of gaining more experience in the taking of photos and digital editing.
To that end I’ve been posting examples of what I consider to be pre keepers, kinda taking the circuitous route and working my way up.
Too date what you have seen have a few years on them – and while I’ve never gotten into street photography mostly because I’ve lived removed from the cities you would be hard pressed to find a mountain range or wildness area I haven’t been in, a lake or river I haven’t spent time by.
Those and the ones depicting rez life and the people qualify as keepers for me.
So if you have a critique or suggestion feel free.
We all have things we are passionate about, other than the obvious of friends and family my focus has long been on governmental policies and how they will impact the nations – to that end I’m not averse to expressing my opinion or take on them and how they will impact us as a disenfranchised minority.
So photo blogs yeah, but blogs about political realities in the mix as well though it may get a little confusing at times as to what I will post next and why – and I never expect universal agreement.
This one about berries, the second in fact I believe as berries are too good, too beneficial to ignore or pass by, and there’s a berry to suit even the most discriminating taste.
I never cease to be amazed by the potential within a seed, the life contained within merely awaiting the opportunity to emerge.
Berries are an example of what a single seed can produce, a part of nature’s bounty you often find when out hiking.
A hardy and independent plant species requiring a bare minimum of effort as an addition to a garden or around your home.
I had a friend, a funny guy, who during his lunch break would forgo one of those fast food places and opt instead to go to a nearby Super WalMart.
The reason he explained was there were always little stands offering a variety of food and fruit samples, so much so he could satiate his hunger and save a little money in the bargain.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have a good job or needed to watch his budget, just the way he was.
Problem though he said was he usually wound up buying other things that cost more than if he had actually paid for a sit down lunch – I think that’s what’s referred to as impulse buying or SWM might refer to as poetic justice.
In a way you could compare hiking the woods to a Super WalMart, lot of free samples – even better, no crowds and you’re dining al fresco.
I’m not big on free samples in stores, won’t hang around waiting or go out of my way for them.
Different in the outdoors though where it feels like your mother is handing you a treat saying she made it for you.
Dusk is that transitional period of the day when things begin to slow down – an intermediary between what has been and what will be.
The heat of the day starts to dissipate and in it’s departure gentle breezes awake to caress and coax a sigh or two of relief with the promise of what night will bring.
Nature’s equivalent of taking a shower after a days work and changing into clean clothes.
There’s something very special about rain, not the torrential deluge type of rain or that driven by hurricane force winds, but the occasional lightning and thunder storm that can both inspire and humble at the same time – a reminder that we ain’t all that – that nature doesn’t play by our rules, is no respecter of persons, schedules, a freshly washed car, dry clothes, or coiffed hair, and I for one love and respect such reminders.
Or that gentle steady rain when comfortable or in bed that acts as a sleep inducer, a sort of liquid tryptophan that requires only the sound and the smell of wet things to lull and seduce.
Rain to me is a variety of things, but also a primordial reminder that even when we complain about the mud, the “inconvenience” the land is where we came from and where we will return to.
We are bound to the land, the rain, and nature regardless of how much artificiality we pursue or embrace, what sort of pretenses or goals we aspire to, how high man may soar above it only to return again.
Passed by this particular piece of nature’s sculpture on more than one occasion, even thought to carry it back for firewood.
But it belongs here on the bank watching the river flow by bathed in moonlight during the night and in time will become part of the land once again.
Rain and runoff from melting snow dictate the ebb and flow of a rivers height and led at some point to this piece of driftwood coming to rest in this place.
While it really isn’t relevant I’m curious about where the journey began and how much time was involved – I once saw a weasel hitching a ride on a log floating downstream, I don’t know if it was intentional or by happenstance, but he didn’t seem at all stressed about his public conveyance.
Maybe he was going to a family reunion or a gathering of his kindred nations and wanted to make a grand entry.
I did the same when a child, see a log floating in a river and climb on just for the joy of the ride. Spent many a night by a river with a campfire made from driftwood – kind of like room service in way, what you need is available. And best of all no check out time.
There was a time when people could swim in or drink from any river with confidence – sadly that’s no longer the case.