"Miles to go..."

The year has come full circle.
My walking and watching, now passing its starting point.
One year’s time, captured and preserved.

I find myself asking if I have finished what I set out to do—record the beauty around me and set it in a light that others will find equally inspiring. Point a finger
toward what I fear many may not see, but could-- if they knew the reward in seeing it would be so great.

To make a note of the stories I’ve collected over time, ensuring they’ll be remembered--by me, if no one else.
Until I’ve caught them all, on a page, bound here.

As I walk behind the pond on this spring day, warm sunshine overhead, the dry leaves of the oak woods brittle beneath my feet, I recall last spring’s awakening and the discoveries that thrilled me. The joy of the first flowers’ arrival, turtles’ noses poking through the green of a summer pond, nesting birds, a growing garden, butterflies...
But what of this spring?
What newness will I find, that I have not already seen?
Perhaps I am finished.
Perhaps another year of the same will have less purpose.

There’s wisdom in the wildflowers.
Each one at my feet, brighter and more special than the last. The simplest fresh faces of spring, yet none diminished by my attention to its neighbor.
So common--yet each worthy of my admiration.






What an arrogant fool.
To think I have somehow seen all in a year’s days.
Or captured nature’s essence with my photographs.
Knowing now, that I will not truly see it all nor capture it here in a lifetime.