Sea Blue Lens


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Scene & Story: January 2017

river ripplesRenewal

It’s not much of a scene. Not much of a story, either, really. My heart hurts more with every day that passes. I need to stay informed, to push back against the tide of hate and anger and fear that seems to be rising all around. How to do that without becoming overwhelmed with anger and hate myself? Or simply drowning in the sorrow of it all?

So I run away, to sit on a granite block at the river’s edge until I’m numb with cold, until I stop thinking, until the flowing water instills a bit of peace within me again. The water that began as raindrops falling on a forest in the mountains many miles away, and that will reach the ocean in just a few miles more. In the ocean it will mix with waters from other mountains, other forests, other rivers. Eventually it will return to the sky, to clouds that will rain down again on still other mountains and forests, forming other rivers. Giving life to other people in other places.

Somehow it comforts me to remember this endless cycle, to watch the river flowing by, its dark waters reflecting a clear blue sky as the lowering sun glints off the ripples. Is there a message here, a metaphor, a reassurance that goodness will ultimately prevail? I don’t know; I only know that it calms me, and a tiny seed of hope begins to grow again.

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Click HERE to join our Scene & Story link-up at Paisley Rain Boots.

**Scene & Story is a collaborative creation that Sarah Huizenga of Paisley Rain Boots and I dreamt up to encourage one another in our photography and writing. We’d love for you to join us. Just share a favorite photo from the previous month along with a short story or description and link up your blog or Flickr photo. Please remember to visit the other story sharers and leave a little love everywhere you visit. It’s a wonderful way to find and build a community of kindred spirits.


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Scene & Story, Chapter 3: November 2016

I will admit that November is not my favorite month. In November all those glorious autumn leaves fade and fall. The landscape’s palette turns from brilliant red, orange, and gold to drab gray and brown. Even the sky is gray. Rain soaks those fallen leaves and begins the process of turning them into mulch and humus to nourish future growth. Days grow shorter. The clock gets turned back and, where I live in southern Maine, sunset arrives about four o’clock. This November has felt especially dark. There’s no denying that winter is coming.

Last LeafLast Leaf

Even so, November can still surprise and delight. I chose this photo to represent November because for me it sums up the contradictions of the month. It was a dreary, overcast day. The overnight rain had stopped but was still dripping from every twig. Suddenly, into the reflection of gloomy gray sky and leafless branches, sailed a single yellow leaf, moving quickly with the current. One spot of bright gold, shiny as a new coin, a flash of light in the darkness. Swirling out of sight in a moment, but lingering in heart and mind, a spark of unexpected joy.

November, I might just love you after all.

Please visit my friend Sarah at Paisley Rain Boots for her November Scene and Story.