you know life is good when you realize you’re spending more time simply living life instead of documenting it with photos, and when have this many firsts in the course of a month:

• 11 shooting stars
• 5 satillite spottings
• 3 nights camping out, 1 of them in a lean-to
• 1 early morning loon call
• carrying trail tools for maybe 8 miles
• filtering water
• Wilderness First Responder
• murder mystery dinner
• drag softball
• listening to peepers so close and loud that they seem to shake your brain
• canoeing at night

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I didn’t post at all in February! Well, these photos are a little belated. We had an small ice storm last month and I appreciated the brief wonder accompanying the glisten and shine of fresh ice and sunshine. Now, it’s March and the snow and ice are finally receding. I haven’t packed away my snow pants yet, however, because I know as soon as I do we’ll get another large snow storm. Trails are wet and squishy and spots of mud are finally showing through. Spring will be welcome, but I try to take each moment as it comes. That seems easy to do out here in the woods. I look around and find myself surrounded by small wonders each moment of every day. Late afternoon light shining through the familiar woods, new bird sounds late at night or in the middle of the day, friendly faces of people I am still so curious to know better, delicious meals cooked with caring hands… More to come soon.

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just more woods photos this time. it’s nice to being stuck one place where you go outside every day and nearly always see the sun come up and the daylight wain. yet, even out here i feel like i should be exploring my surroundings more. it was cold this week.

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First, a playlist inspired by my first week in Bear Brook: Into the Woods Mix

It’s been an amazing time these first three weeks in the woods. I wish I knew how to describe how wonderful it feels to be living amongst the trees, walking a quarter mile to the bathroom, seeing by starlight, listening to the wind, and rising before the sun almost everyday. Slippers help cold toes, sleeping bags on the floor help the nights when our fire burns too hot, new friends help each other learning keys on the piano, strings on the mandolin, or muscles stretching in the body. Instead of incoherently babbling on about it, here’s a little something I wrote for this week’s “coffee house” at the lodge (write a story A-Z, w/ one sentence at least 50 words long):

Sunday Night/The Little Cabin

A little cabin rests in the woods, seemingly alone in this world.

Breezes caress her bones late in the night and help release some much needed heat.

Creaking, she moans with the wind, the cold and the fire.

Daylight is a long way off, but she doesn’t mind.

Every night is a new adventure.

Fires that burn too hot rustle her dwellers, but sweat the ice off her brow.

Grey light pours through the windows tonight.

Heavy air is a distant memory.

Icicles have decided to stay one more day.

January wraps herself around this little cabin.

Knits herself into the cracks.

Lazily, the cabin breathes in and out.

Monday threatens.

“Never mind that now,” the little cabin says.

“Only once my coals are out can you properly arrive.”

Painful are those moments.

Quietly, the little cabin puffs out her last bit of smoke.

Rather than rouse her dwellers, though, her cold shoulder pushes them deep into denial.

“Stay away morning, for just this once, stay away!”

Then, seemingly all at once, blue dawn melts into the dark, urging the grumblers to emerge from their cocoons, or the fire-starters to lift their lids, peer through the grey, and grope for the cast iron.

“Until the next night, then,” the little cabin thinks to herself.

Venturing off into the woods, her dwellers leave the comfort of her walls, seeking the comfort of food, toilets, and the fuel of the burning sun.

When night returns she’ll be here, hoping for the scent of smoke and ash, milk and honey, pine and snow.

Xenophilius Lovegood once betrayed his friends and blue up his house for only the false, desperate hope for the safe return of his beloved daughter, but our little cabin knows that our deep attachment and our intimate dependency will only ever be a moment in time, an impermanent bond, or a wisp of smoke.

Yet, she welcomes us back each night as old friends.

Zero judgements, zero burdens, zero expectations for one more night within her walls.

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how do you avoid clichés when photographing or describing autumn? the leaves are bright, the air is crisp, the days are getting shorter and the light is getting richer. but after living in Illinois for two years, where fall is, well, disappointing, shouldn’t I have some fresh perspective on the quintessential New England season? what’s so great about it that caused me to miss it so much? what’s it like to be back? well, here are some things.

I like it when the sunlight shines through the canopies of red and orange maples and turn the world below into a warm hue. it’s simultaneously comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket by a warm fire, and unsettling, like you’re a part of some other deep space science fiction novel.

I like that the color is everywhere, not just coming from a few deciduous trees that city planners and residents plant on the suburban grid. in this part of New England, neighborhoods and towns were and are carved into the woods, and the default landscape is a mixture of pine green and reds, yellows, and oranges.

locals here sometimes remark (with a hint of pessimism) that the season is too short, that we better get out and enjoy the color before it’s gone as the next flurry of wind or rain hits, or that the weather this year has made the foliage less impressive than usual. well, this season is actually incredibly long, did you know? the first hints of non-green started showing at the end of August. and even in November when our surroundings look more dull and brown, i think the atmosphere surrounding that particularly brown month is entirely different from the depressing brown of late-winter. the leaves on the ground aren’t totally decomposed yet, Thanksgiving (or Thanks-Taking as my brother calls it) still promotes that autumn-harvesty-cornacopia of potentially-still-local food in your stomach feeling, and you’re not so terrified of winter on its way. without autumn’s transition away from the VITAMIN D PARTY of summer, winter would feel like a cinematic slap in the face. so when the brightest of brights are gone, I’m going to enjoy the lingering brown and rust decomposition that New England autumn still has to offer.

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these were taken a couple weeks ago but amazingly enough we still haven’t had a frost by October 14th. morning glories are still blooming every day, but you can tell it’s more of a struggle. they don’t burst with energy in the same way with the cold temperatures, yet they also don’t shrivel by mid-morning because of heat and sun. they are my favorite flower.

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there appeared to be many photographers at MOFGA’s Common Ground Country Fair this weekend. i saw many people snapping photos with all kinds of different cameras. i only took a few photos, though, because i was too overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the fair. it’s been a couple years since i’ve spent my autumn in New England and attended the Common Ground fair. this year the fair was particularly wonderful.

highlights:
- unseasonably warm weather and abundant sunshine. 
- walking through a hobbit hole built by Wooden Wonders.
- the smells of campfires, herbs and spices, fruits and breads, and fresh cut wood.
- eats & tastes: a glorious honey bun, a famous organic sausage and peppers sub, curry, fruit smoothies, cider, blueberry tea, fresh fries, pumpkin spice ice cream.
- sheep dogs and surprisingly, geese.
- a contradance tent (pictured) with ecstatic dancers and music by Perpetual e-Motion.
- an especially beautiful farmer’s market.

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Maudslay State Park – Newburyport, MA

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I’ve neglected this blog for a couple months now. It’s summer, and I’m taking photos more often, but wanting to spend less time arranging them. What of the summer? Gardens in the neighborhood are thriving, and I’ve been exploring some new walking and hiking areas with my parents. We’ve seen very little rain and all the grass here has gone brown and crunchy. On the plus side, this makes for fewer mosquitoes than average. It’s some kind of miracle. We’ll see what this strange summer weather does for the foliage this fall, though. I’ll be glad to be in New England either way.

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not many words to pair with these photos except to say that i’m smitten with photographing gardens. particularly ones that produce vegetables. i’ll be sad to leave Illinois next week because it involves leaving my brother’s garden and the community and public gardens. there is something to be said about this gorgeous Illinois soil. but, i can say that i cannot wait to see my mom’s garden in New Hampshire. glorious summer gardens!

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it really has been this long since i’ve taken my camera out for a walk. inevitably i fall behind and then run to catch up… in more than one sense. always the feeling of being rushed, even when alone. wishing i could stand in one place to soak it all in, compose the shot, and get the focus.

“one of the more embarrassing and self-indulgent challenges of our time is the task of relearning how to concentrate. the past decade has seen an unparalleled assault on our capacity to fix our minds steadily on anything. to sit still and think, without succumbing to an anxious reach for a machine, has become almost impossible.” – alain de botton, “on distraction”

flipping through books to “comprehend” just enough to cite them… scanning through web pages for information to consume or pop culture references to amuse… watching television shows on the computer where the rapid transition of scenes and events make it impossible to wonder about much anything else…

maybe by breezing through the world so fast we actually prevent ourselves from truly being able to experience its fleeting moments and become fulfilled by them, too. hmmm…

“this fleeting world is like a star at dawn, a bubble in a stream, a flash of lightning in a summer cloud, a flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream…” – the diamond sutra

(or maybe i’d just like to take slower walks and also feel like i know what i’m talking about when i write something.)