Pond


I took this photo at a native prairie where one of the fantastic girls of Troop 1900 built a bridge for her girl scout gold award project. There were chiggers. Lots of chiggers. The itching stops after about 7 days. I found myself coming back to this small pond to take photos, to see the reflection of the prairie in the water depths. I love water. I also love benches. I could of sat on these benches forever, a friend recently commented on my eye for benches, and I wrote this in an note to him

Yes I love benches, there is an expectation about an unoccupied seat, an essence of all who have occupied them, a resonance of untold stories, almost as if our energies, both fragile and human have imprinted an inanimate object, when I see a bench, it is opportunity, it is refuge, a thread that loosely binds the occupants, past present and future, in the knowing of the feel of the bench, the view, that shared moment. So I photograph them, and I sit on them and simply absorb their stories. I worry that my pictures like my poetry at times becomes a bit redundant. I liked these benches because I was caught up in them being both singular and a set, much like us humans.

Perhaps at some point I might find a poem in these lines. I find that still my most favorite form of writing is letters. A lost art, the art of writing letters. I am groovy, I hope the same for you.