Spring

 

When I am outside at this time of year I can remember springs all the way back from when I was a little kid. 

 

 

How good the air smelled, and how light my feet felt outside of heavy winter boots.

It felt like freedom.

 

 

I remember how we'd spend hours and hours outside in those early spring days: light as air without heavy coats, soaking up every ounce of warmth from the sun.

When we finally went back inside my mother would always greet us with big hugs and bury her face deep into our hair and inhale deeply. 

 

 

"You smell like fresh air and sunshine" she'd always declare.

 Today smelled like fresh air and sunshine.

Chasing Beauty

 It was a rough winter and the signs of struggle are everywhere.

As the snow continues to melt it begins to reveal the damage:

months of snow and ice have ravaged the forest leaving branches torn, splintered and bare. 

Eventually another layer of beauty will begin to emerge: lush, green, soft and full. 

Covering over, filling gaps, softening edges. Transforming.

Until then, my camera will strain to find what is beautiful in the tattered wreckage that is the forest in early spring. 

 

 

The truth is that my camera is complicit in the lie I am currently telling.

It is a lie of light, composition and texture.

Nature is not always beautiful.

 

What the Wind Brings

 A new season is attempting to arrive:

The temperature is rising and the winds are blowing.

Day and night you can hear them howl.

 

 

It's as if the spring can't enter on it's own and needs a mighty burst of air to usher it in.

 

Despite the wind, winter never gives up easily. 

The coming month will be a battle. 

But no matter how it plays out in the coming days, the outcome is certain:

Spring will win. 

Eventually, in it's own time, spring always wins.

Always.