Walls. Put up as boundaries, fences; a way to keep things in, as a way to keep things out.  Built of wood, brick, stone, barbed wire, they all serve the same purpose.  And sometimes they are completely invisible, built of heartbreak and betrayal.


I am struggling with those invisible walls right now.  Unlike walls built of physical materials, which are easy to tear pull out and tear down, my invisible walls are hard to grasp and pull free. But there is a door within those walls, and it waits to be opened.

I have given away the key.


Seamus Heaney

Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.



and so

Autumn Bokeh with Rain

and so it rains. and sometimes the rain calls.

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.

Autumn Bokeh with RainAutumn Bokeh with RainAutumn Bokeh with RainAutumn Bokeh with RainAutumn Bokeh with Rain


once, there was a girl who, broken, left her color and joy behind, forgetting her worth.  days passed into weeks, weeks into months, months into years.  she built her walls, brick by brick, settling into solitude. gently, the world slowly wove its way back into her soul, spots of color here and there. smiles replaced the tears and she no longer mourned for what was not and what could not have been.  the years of introspection and self-examination showed her that she was enough.  enough for herself. that she was full of color.


It’s something they carry with them
                      – explorers  night shifts  seamen –
like a good pair of binoculars
or a camera case
                perfectly and deeply compartmented.
It has a quiet patina
that both absorbs and reflects
                           like a valuable instrument
                                                you have to sign for
 – contract with alone –
                     and at the end of the voyage
                                                          you get to keep.
Sometimes it’s very far away.
Sometimes so close
               at first you think the person next to you
is picking up  putting down
                                 a personal cup
                                    a book in another language
before you realise what
– when talk has moved off
                               leaning its arms
                                       on someone else’s table –
is being
handed to you.

acquainted with the night

Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015

It has been some time since I have visited my little haunt at night.  The sidewalks and streets are empty at night, save for the sound of the occasional car, or horse and buggy clip clopping a block or two away. It seems I have photographed everything that has called me to this tiny town in the past, and I need to find a new muse.

Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015 Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015

Living in a rural agricultural area has its disadvantages for a person driven to photograph its scenery; it doesn’t change much, and let’s face it, after doing a full 365 and two additional failed attempts, I am fairly selfish about the time it takes to really get out and find some “new brush.”  I do have some locales calling to me, but do I really want to go to an unfamiliar area alone at night, knowing that the bogey man might be just around the corner waiting to jump out?  Especially at Halloween?  EEEK!

Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015

Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015

Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015Shipshewana: Spring Night 2015

it’s what i do

i shoot flowers.  yes.  they are easy. non-moving targets, they can’t get away from you. but, that doesn’t stop me from sighing at the sheer perfection of the shape of a petal, the color dripping from the top of each stem, the negative space that surrounds each blossom.

Kriders 06/28/2016

i need a bit of pretty every so often, and each garden i visit throughout the warm months, gives me that pretty freely, abundantly and exuberantly.

Kriders 06/28/2016

it looks as though i’ll simply keep doing what i do.

Kriders 06/28/2016


Tonight my love is sleeping cold
Where none may see and none shall pass.
The daisies quicken in the mold,
And richer fares the meadow grass.

The warding cypress pleads the skies,
The mound goes level in the rain.
My love all cold and silent lies-
Pray God it will not rise again!

-Dorothy Parker

While I Wait

Another night of editing high school senior photos.  Another night of waiting for images to load from camera raw to Photoshop. Tonight, however, I will add a blog post to the wait.

GSP October 2016

Tonight’s post is brought to you by People Who Should Pay More Attention to Their Blogs (PWSPMATTB), a not-for-profit society of procrastinators whose blogs languish, alone and ignored, for months at a time.

GSP October 2016

I’m keeping it simple today with a few flowers shot last weekend while out with my daughter.

GSP October 2016    GSP October 2016

GSP October 2016

Shooting Stars (badly)

And once again, I have plucked up the impetus to actually log into my WordPress and actually do a post.  Life is busy: daughter involved with everything sports related in high school, son heading to college in one short week (and breaking my heart by doing exactly what I have raised him to do), crazy project deadlines at work and three photo shoots scheduled in the next week.

I am finding time to shoot each week, though I don’t think I could ever finish another 365 project.  Current project:  shooting stars.  Current mood:  disgusted with the noise in the photos because of the high ISO needed.

Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars

By William Shakespeare

Let those who are in favour with their stars

Of public honour and proud titles boast,

Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,

Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.

Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread

But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,

And in themselves their pride lies buried,

For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famoused for fight,

After a thousand victories once foil’d,

Is from the book of honour razed quite,

And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d:

Then happy I, that love and am beloved

Where I may not remove nor be removed