Things I've Been Seeing

Black and White Photography

Random Thoughts: Some Black, Some White

20150223-untitled (11 of 34)Chilly, finally, after the unusually warm weather we’ve been having. The earth was wet from rain in the night, temperature in the high 30s, so I had bundled up, and had pulled on gloves for the trek to the lake, even though it is hard to handle Winston and the camera while wearing gloves. Lake Gregory was spectacular, and as I often do, I thought I don’t come down here enough. Before the day was over, rain pelted our woods, and our yards, and soft, watery snow fell in its typical silent way.

20150223-untitled (15 of 34)How did God make all this? Did He sit down somewhere–a kind of creation studio–and consider the varieties of trees, flowers, leaf shapes, stone colors, animal faces, ocean volume, sand for the deserts, whiskers and noses . . .?

20150223-untitled (16 of 34)I saw that several large trees have been felled near the lodge. Why? Were they diseased, or just somehow in the way or . . .? I have friends who have recently danced about with death, some even at this moment are dodging and weaving, and I have a sense of its dreadfulness, and that the cutting down of life smacks of pain and decay, and we don’t like it.

20150223-untitled (17 of 34)Strange, isn’t it that even we who are Christians and believe in a hereafter do not want to die. Few exceptions.

“How many want to go to Heaven today?” Nathaniel’s little five-year-old voice boomed from the upstairs area as we sat around in the living room with guests. No one answered, so that little grandson of mine asked again, “How many want to go to Heaven today?” We adults–Christians, ministers–grinned, looked at each other, and decided none of us wanted to go today. Strange, huh? Or not?

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20150223-untitled (22 of 34)My heart breaks for some I know whose lives are upside down. Can’t get it straight. Can’t make it work. . .Good people. I cry.

20150223-untitled (25 of 34)Life Cycles. The bud. Summer warmth, then leaves crackle, dry up, and fall to the earth. And it is Winter.



My Beautiful Chloe

A fledgling, now a child, then a woman, my beautiful Chloe Marin.

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untitled (95 of 160)She gazes from the frame into the world–her world, troubled and shifting.

For her and those of her generation, I sing:

“On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”


After I had staggered down our driveway to retrieve the newspaper and to take pictures of the daffodils and our house and was heading back to the stairs inside the garage, I looked east and saw this magnificent view. I was freezing as the temperature was in the 20s, but it was so beautiful . . .stark. . . that stretch of branch . . .

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Images in the Snow

The emphasis of form seen in the snow is amazing.

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Snowy! Across the Lake

Windows in the front of our house give us spectacular views of trees and houses which lie on the other side of Lake Gregory. I never tire of seeing these incredible mountain views, and have snapped scores of pictures. After a heavy snow, the vista is riveting.

untitled (12 of 80) untitled (13 of 80)A drastic change comes when the rising sun strikes across the scene.

untitled (15 of 80)untitled (17 of 80)Perhaps you may tire of my saying how blessed I feel to live in this paradise. Sorry, I just can’t help myself. 🙂



Shots from another year here on my flickr account.

Bill Huckle and Snow

A few months ago, Jerry and I went to his 90th birthday party. His name is Bill Huckle. He is our next door neighbor and it is hard to imagine a better one. Kind, gracious, intelligent–he’s wonderful.

A couple of weeks ago, he contracted the flu which developed into pneumonia, and he spent a few days in the hospital.

Today, through my kitchen window, I watched him shovel snow. He’s amazing. Tough. Mountain people!

untitled (73 of 80)-2untitled (75 of 80)-2Once not long after we moved into our home–more than 12 years now–Bill said to us in a kind and respectful way, “I envy your faith.”

His wife died before we became neighbors, and one afternoon I had been working in our gardens and had paused to talk over the fence with Bill when he said to me, “I used to have a Shirley, too, but she left me.”

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The Road

Choose with care. The road we take will determine our destination.

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