Though if you can’t see the ice forming on this inlet, it’s because my photo isn’t good enough to show it off.
Coming home is tougher.
A tired and hungry person should not be climbing hills that lead up to the farmette.
It can make one grumpy. As I park the bike (for the season?) in the garage shed, I pick up nearby clippers. I may as well cut back the rose bush that extends too far over the path to the door of the farmhouse. As I snap away, backpack tossed to the side, the prickly twigs grab my coat and hold on. I call out to Ed who is standing nearby -- Ed, could you help me please?
That phrase “Ed, could you help me please” is dangerously prominent in my everyday. Ed, the shower handle is loose. Ed, why isn’t the outdoor thermometer working? In past years, I’d discard broken things that I couldn’t fix (that would be a good 75% of broken anything). Or I’d live with the deformity. Or hire someone. I realize how easy it is to say now -- Ed, the coat hook is loose, the twig has grabbed my coat, the water heater is off again, the Christmas tree stand is missing a screw (all these from the last week alone).
It would never have entered my mind to carefully allocate tasks between Ed and myself in these times that we've hung out together. It happened almost intuitively. And they're unbelievably gendered allocations. Ed, don’t wash that – you don’t use warm water or soap, just let me do it. Ed, I’ll be downtown today, let me pick up the groceries. Ed, can I get you a bubbly? (I have slipped into his quirky vocabulary here) a blanket? a clean shirt?
As Ed plucks bramble twigs from my coat, I relax. But not totally yet. This semester has been menacing with my sanity. It'll take me a while to let go of it all.
We drive to the café where I have a shot of coffee and Ed dozes.
Thank you for all your posts and photos, but this time I want to focus on your photos of the landscape surrounding the farmette. These landscapes you have been shooting for some time now are beautiful as individual photos and fascinating as a series. Each photo is a forthright look at a simple midwest landscape, but the viewer is rewarded in the rich details, the subtle color changes, the play of light (or lack of it), and the sheer honesty of what you confronted with your camera that day. When you look at all of your landscapes as a series, they begin to tell a story in the subtle changes from day to day in color, light and mood—both the visual mood of the photo and your mood as you made the photo. You really have something in this series. Perhaps even a book. I can't wait to see more.
ReplyDeleteYou have captured beautiful lighting in all your photos today, but the third one is just mesmerizing.
ReplyDeleteBoth of you take the cake in niceness. And, on a day when I needed a pick me up no less. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteNina, you are such an artist with the camera...well, actually not just with the camera. I especially love the photo with the railroad tracks.
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