a four letter word.
It is one of those things that can make or break us as we amble aimlessly along our path of life while trying to build friendships, relationships or other ships.
It is elusive to me.
I admit it.
I trust rarely and with great trepidation.
I suppose if I were to consult a shrink about the essence of my mistrust, I would be given an earful of information about inadequacies on my part, past issues and other useless reportage.
As a photographer, however, and all that nonsense aside, I trust nature.
I trust light, shadow and beauty.
I trust that every sunrise will bring a new and magnificent beginning.
I trust that every full moon will fill me with awe.
I trust that Winter will bring snow-laden limbs of bare trees and stark, gray landscapes against the exclusively winter aqua sky. A force, in itself, to be reckoned with for it occurs no other time of the year.
A magnificent color in a desolate season.
Nature at a pinnacle of his and her beauty … Old man Winter working with Mother Nature.
They don’t get along all that well, but in the aqua sky surrounding the evening sun in the throes of Winter, they are flawless.
I trust that Spring will bring with it fragrant blooms of recently sleeping trees and streams filled with heavy rains. Waterfalls that exceed my expectations, fiddler-heads unfolding, moss as green as the hills of Ireland and rocks sublimely submerged beneath heavily watered creeks.
I trust that Summer will bring the heady, intoxicating scent of honeysuckle, sunlit spiderwebs, lightning bugs, views of the ocean, seas of wheat and barley, acres of wildflowers and stunning, irrepressible heat.
I trust that Autumn will bring the smell of decaying leaves, foliage in a myriad of colors, an early frost, snow in the high places and an incredible peace of mind that only fall can bring.
I cannot be certain if I love Spring or Autumn most of all …
I suppose I love them both equally, as I do Summer and Winter.
How can I choose when each one brings unfathomable beauty unequaled by any other thing?
hands … old and young, with a daisy between them
A fiddler-head unfurling on my mountain.