Fog Rolls In

One Picture/One Paragraph

Stepping from the shower of our tiny bathroom, I open the window to let steam escape. Fog has rolled in. It’s winter but the temperature outside is unseasonably warm, and I lean out the window, surveying our backyard. As far as I can see there are woods. On days when I am feeling close to nature, I call the yard a forest. On days when I am feeling creative, I call it a garden. Every fall we push the leaves from the front yard into the woods and marvel at how they decay and make the soil rich. We watch as branches bend and sway and occasionally a tree will topple as though its time has come and gone. I hesitate. Is this view really worth running downstairs to get the camera? Especially as I am still soaking wet, wrapped in a towel. I remind myself to let go of judgment. It’s not a gamble that the effort will be worthwhile because the reward is always in the seeing. I’ve already won.

Mount Olympus Farm | Pentax k-1000, kodak portra 400

One Picture/One Paragraph

At first, I am disappointed. Nothing in this picture is in focus. It was taken in early morning, not long after sunrise. It was freezing cold outside. Just after Christmas, the little sheds were part of a live nativity scene held each night. I can’t remember the camera settings, but I think the shutter speed was 1/60 second, and perhaps I couldn’t hand-hold steadily enough. I took only two frames and both were soft and blurry. I almost deleted the files . . . but the remembering kept calling me back. Remembering what it is like to stand on the edge of a farm, on a cold frosty morning, soaking in silence, embraced by pink sky, seeing everything crystal clear. In a sacred space. Where imperfect focus is the gift that is brought.