Ripened in the sun’s warm, decaying fingers. Hanging taunt in this mutable moment, sponging up the ripples of ancient energy—fast and free—tired from gravity, battleworn through light’s ages.
Carried away with the light, swollen fruit drapes, dangling. Dried, wilted pedals dip deep in the glacial deposit. The silky wetness, ancient and sincere.
Cool. Crisp. Clean. Ready to be devoured. Preserved by the virtue of the universe: communal rebirth. Dying in the sun, living in nature. Fire and flare, plump with change. Endless swollen change. Eternal growth! •
Throwback to a tremendous hike in the Rockies, on a dry, warm day. The air as thick and soothing as a blow dryer bath on a cold morning. A four mile hike in chacos and board shorts made me value my forgotten socks and boots. I Arrived at the most opportune time. The daily Colorado storm clouds began crawling in, hurdling over, sweeping around the mountain’s craggy spine and down to meet me with grey gritted teeth. I was fortunate enough to take a quick break by the lake—admire its devastating beauty, and snap a couple pics to preserve for memory—before jogging 4 miles back to the trailhead, trying to evade the rain, taking needed walking breaks here and there, subsequently letting the rainclouds catch up and spit at my heels. •
I’m pensive these days as the temperatures drop, the static builds in my bedsheets, and memories fade to nothing more than photos, stamps of time—chronologizing a former adventure. Summer nights are my favorite times to photograph. That bloody orange summer glow! It whispers joyful things to me. Draws me in. Unrelenting. •
What are your favorite times of year? What is the best time to photograph. Hike. Live. To experience the world?