I pulled over on Cleveland Street, just off Parham Road, to take a few pictures of the first snow of the season. Magical snow floating slowly to the earth’s surface. As I was deep in thought, I heard someone shouting, Over here! Over here! I turned to see a nice gentleman smiling at me from his pickup truck, window rolled down. Take one of me!, he shouted. I obliged with a few quick presses of the shutter. That’ll be the best picture of the day!, I yelled back.

I didn’t plan it this way, but the pictures I took today reflect the beautiful change of seasons, where one overlaps the other in a wide band of time, where pumpkins and Christmas trees share the spotlight.

First images seemed mostly like fall with an early snow.

 

Second group of images seem like a Christmas countdown where we all wish for wonder and merriment. A small measure of time where we can lay down our worries and fears.

 

When I climb back into the car, my fingers frozen, my face flushed, I turn up the heater, fan full blast. I feel the snowflakes melting in my hair and wonder why I didn’t think to wear boots or at least bring along a pair of gloves or even a hat. It’s as though I forgot the seasons were changing. Today was a reminder . . . life is complicated and beautiful.

 

Unfortunately, I suffer with migraines. I’ve lost days of my life to pain, squinting at light and fighting nausea. It’s hard to see the good in the world when you are in pain. Recently, I’ve tried a new medication that brings relief in an hour or so and it’s been life-changing. When the pain subsides, everything has a beautiful clarity and there is a sense of euphoria. Like ornaments strung along the roof line of a little house sitting on Monroe Bay where the light is golden. Where soft and sharp live in complete harmony.

 

A Walk in the Woods.

I have photography friends who are immensely gifted at walking in the woods and finding the most amazing pictures. My friend, Kate, zooms in on tiny details in pockets of light. She wanders trails, watching clouds, chasing light, savoring the scene one vignette at a time. Then there is my friend, Cathy. She finds beauty in her yard, in the park, over the lake and anywhere she walks with her sweet dog, Baker. She makes ethereal images, soft and glowing, of wildflowers and weeds and tiny mushrooms. She takes landscape images that remind you why it’s important to stop what you’re doing and look out the window. Or better yet, get outside.

I do not have this gift. I took a walk with my husband through the North Anna Battlefield in Hanover County, Virginia today. I love to be outdoors and I love to hike. But mostly all I see is brown. Brown stick figure trees. Brown curled leaves. Brown-ringed mushrooms growing on tree bark that look kind of like oyster shells. The light is dappled and everywhere I point my camera looks messy to me. It’s no secret that I lean toward perfectionism. I start down that old familiar road, the one where I am hard on myself for being myself. And then I stop and begin to look for the pictures that are mine to make. They are always there. Like old friends they step forward to greet me. They are not in the woods or on the trail but at the entrance, where light and color call out in invitation.