Photographs from a Bloy in Wisconsin
It’s been pretty dark and dreary in Madison for a while now. The lack of sunshine, and the fact that I haven’t spent much time out in nature lately has a definite affect on my psyche. As a small antidote, I was looking at some early autumn pictures I took recently, when clouds weren’t dominating the sky.
The lesson that I need to get outside on a regular basis, no matter the weather, is not new. It’s funny though, how often I need to remind myself of it.
A delicate wildflower, growing out of a crack in the limestone along Lake Michigan. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere…
I thought it would be fun to look back on the photos I took last year and pick out a few favorites. In the end, I suppose it’s really not about the photographs I’ve taken, but the wonders I’ve seen, and the photos that help me remember them. Here’s to more wondrous memories in 2018. Happy new year!
from Rail Dreams
from Solar Eclipse 2017
Some days, just floating along and ending up wherever the water takes me, sounds pretty good.
The February doldrums have me looking at a photo I took a few weeks ago, and dreaming of far off destinations. Traveling by rail, of course.
Even when the weather is dreary, there’s beauty to be seen.
As I walked through Olbrich Gardens this morning, a man was stopped in the middle of the path, staring intently at a mature tree. His back toward me, unaware of my presence, I excused myself to get by. He apologized for being in the way, saying he was just in awe of the beautiful old tree. I agreed as I walked past, saying something about many awe inspiring sights to see today. As I continued to walk over the creek bridge, I thought, any day that gives you feelings of awe, is a good day.
Yesterday, in the middle of a mostly cloudy day, I decided to go hiking at Natural Bridge State Park. While on the trail, just as I approached the park’s namesake (a natural sandstone arch), the sun started shining through a decent sized break in the clouds.
I can often feel more spiritual and closer to God while out in nature, than in church. My time under these tall pine trees (while hiking in northern Wisconsin) is a prime example of that.
I wonder if I would appreciate the summer solstice as much, if I lived closer to the equator, and didn’t experience the long hours of darkness in the late fall autumn?
Happy solstice everyone!
