“Earth laughs in flowers” Emerson
Archive for the 'Photography' Category
It was a warm, slightly humid night this evening. We sat on the deck gazing East toward the mountains. The clouds were pushing upward and then spilling over into majestic shapes. In the distance, we heard thunder. My father-in-law shook his head, as he often does. It is a prelude to the common themes we share these days. The memory, in the present, falters now. The past memories, recited often, are clearer and bring to mind his struggles as a young man, husband, father, farmer in the Dakotas.
He hasn’t farmed in over forty some years. The weather, destroyed crops, fading health and the clarity of the hard future ahead caused him to move the family and contents West to Oregon. Although he never farmed again, his upbringing and young adult life leave little doubt he somehow is still a farmer. He can describe in vivid detail the life, the hardships, the failures from fifty years ago. He can’t recall having given this same story ten minutes ago. No matter. It’s the way of things. You roll with it, staring up at the clouds, thankful the mosquitos are at bay tonight.
He looks tired tonight, disheveled. His pants have that faint coating of sawdust from the shop. The belts askew, the shirt partially untucked. His hands, the gnarled, strong hands have never stopped working. He points a crooked finger toward the clearing sky and remarks on the color of the clouds and the threat of something passing. He asks if he has ever told me about why he left the farm? No, I say, what happened?
I am melancholy in listening. This is a fading life style, a tired man. I want to hear it over and over, while I can. My heart wrenches, I catch my breath and refocus on his words. Every single word.
“To dare every day to be irreverent and bold. To dare to preserve the randomness of mind which in children produces strange and wonderful new thoughts and forms. To continually scramble the familiar and bring the old into new juxtaposition.” Gordon Webber
Maybe Gordon did this tile work?
“There is greater clarity in the still waters of sadness, something not found in the babbling brooks of more sought after emotions.” Shaun Hicks
We run from the darkness. Once immersed in the dark hole of depression, we crawl, walk, run to never grace that dark doorstep again. Dare we look back, once safely sane, healed and gather the lessons and share them in love of others? I think so. Love is more powerful in the end. Fragile though we be, there is strength in having endured that cold place of despair.