I have been working on a short Slideshow today. I have a client who wanted to look over a selection of my photos so she can place an order. I really couldn’t find any reason not to share it here as well. 🙂
The Feature image was taken on the way to my day job and this spot is part of my daily life.
Leaving behind the chaotic façade which most think of as the real world I continue down the silent road. Small things dart around inside the tall grass looking for the lost echo of birds. A world without bird’s songs is a creation without a voice. The silver sky weeps as muted wind howls in vain. The grasses and trees began to sway gently as if dancing in time with a forgotten memory. What was the tune? It’s on the tip of my useless tongue. I have to find the answer. As I search in despair for the solution I see movement out of corner of my eye. The dark shape floats above my head and I recognize the outline of a raven. The black feathers are almost iridescent and it’s unnaturally large. In its beak it carries a scroll. It would shriek if shrieking existed. The scroll lands at my feet. I unroll the parchment and the raven circles awaiting my reaction to the mystery I hold. Scratched on the inside of the parchment were ancient symbols that spoke of lost magic and words “The road ends in silence but begins in music. Let one who knows the secrets be the voice.” I nodded to raven and he dipped a wing in reply. I would undertake his quest to where the road begins.
… to be continued.
I dreamt about a world of steel and concrete.
A world where the pace was hectic and one dare not stumble for fear of the crowd.
As I walked along in time with the daily march into chaos there was a gate unguarded.
I took the chance and walked through the threshold as the outside world vanished behind me.
No more hustle and bustle.
Steel and Glass gave way to open sky. Leaving only the wind.
Pavement crumbles away into earth.
Echoes fade into oblivion as I walked at different pace.
This road ends in silence.
Growing up with livestock means barbed wire. Some people actually collect old rusted samples of it and there’s certain vintages that are more desirable than others. It’s not uncommon to find a section of the stuff sticking out of a tree that has grown up on a fence row and absorbed the wire as the tree grew. There was also a lot of barbed wire on the ground. Sometimes it’s covered with decades of fallen leaves all except for the loop that’s just below the weeds and waiting to catch your foot like a snare. Believe me, it will drop you like a rock if you’re careless around old fences that are poorly maintained.
Sometimes in life we get tossed down when we’re least expecting it. If we look around to see what tripped us up we’ll usually find that it was a responsibility that we ourselves neglected. What’s more is that it’s easier to handle taking care responsibly when it’s fresh than it is to fix something that has been left undone for too long.
On my way to my day job I spotted this snow capped mountain. In spite of my fuss old man winter persists. Since Old Man Winter wanted another portrait I obliged him once again. (Hopefully he’ll be satisfied enough to leave this time.)
As I sat in my warm pickup truck along the Kanawha River looking up at the mountain my mind brought up the poem Samuel Taylor Coleridge‘s Kubla Kahn and I wondered if one were to take the trek up to the peak if he would find the entrance to Xanadu. Can you hear the dulcimer and the song of Mount Abora? Do want to explore the caves of ice? But alas, responsibly calls and there’s little time for adventure today. I snapped a few shots and head down river to my day job. Perhaps they’ll serve honeydew for lunch and I’ll still feel like an adventure when I clock out.
LLOYD'S LENS PHOTOGRAPHY LLC 