Sometimes everything just works for you. The image here was taken after a long day of finding absolutely nothing interesting to photograph. I had finally decided to call it a day. The sun was high in sky, the light was too harsh and I was frustrated. I gathered my gear up. Got in my truck and headed home in defeat. As I left the woods and back onto the pavement I caught motion in the stream just below the road. The doe and her twin fawns were splashing around and playing in the water. I stopped the truck and placed the camera on the hood and zoomed in as tight as I could. Just as I snapped the shutter the baby fawn reached up and gave mommy a kiss.
Tag: Natural Life
Wanderlust
My lifetime has been lived between mountains and rivers. One of the things I love most is that the hills and ridges always seem to have some secret just waiting for us to discover. I eventually found the time to head across the river and explore only to find more questions on the other side. There are days when I wish I could just load a good ATV up with supplies and see how far down the tracks I can go.
The mountains in the background were once occupied by the Adena. Our local history says that there was a huge wall that stretched for miles. I have daydreams about what the landscape would have been in those times. What were they keeping out? What were protecting? Surely a culture that built a huge stone wall would also have buildings. Is there abandoned temple hidden somewhere in the deep forests? The Adena had copper tools. Is there also a golden idol tucked away just waiting for Indiana Jones to find? Maybe and maybe not. But I would love to find out.
Glade Creek Grist Mill at Babcock State Park
The Glade Creek Grist Mill at Babcock State Park in West Virginia is one of our most popular places. It’s especially popular with artists and photographers. I think the reason why we’re so atracted to it. The mill harkens us back to a simpler time when life was more organic. The days when water and horses powered our technology. This allowed for a life that was less micro managed. There was time for friends and family to meet beside a steam and enjoy life. Small stones accumulated in a pool near the bank hold an entire world of colors and shapes. Insects and crayfish dart around in the pool like waterborne fairies performing a dance. This is what real life is.
The mill is still in operation certain times of the year. We have friends who still take grain to the mill and grind it flour. Home baked bread from home raised grain has a smell and a flavor not found in the bleached out over processed chunks of starchy foam that comes in a plastic bag. Real bread is a wonderful experience.
Today the subject of automation is discussed at length. There are doubts and fears as well as hopes and dreams. I look at the image here that represents the automation of the past and I’m reminded that before the mill all that flour had to be ground by hand. There would have been no time for observation of life in the water. No time for pleasant conversations about life. I have hope that automation of the future will provide the same benefits if we are wise with it’s use.
If you’re interested in visiting the Glade Creek Grist Mill at Babcock State Park in West Virginia you might want to check out the link below.
A Trip To The Meadow River.
Today is dreary day in the mountains of Appalachia. There’s been heavy rain and gray skies all day. By morning the ice and snow is supposed to return. On days like today I like to look at the summer images that I’ve taken. It makes me feel like I’m sitting by one of our rivers with a Zebco 33 and one of my favorite lures. The simple repetitive action of casting and slowly drawing the line back in has a meditative quality for me. I don’t even really care if anything bites. Like Zen archery ( or at least my understanding of it ) it’s all about clearing the mind and regaining focus. The image above was taken on the Meadow River during one of these trips. The spot is known mostly to locals and I’m sworn to secrecy as to the exact spot. Behind me a small campfire crackles softly making just enough smoke to keep mosquitoes away. It didn’t seem to bother the butterflies that danced and played on the buttonbush. I made one last cast into the river and slowly retrieve. There’s a tug on the other end of line. But, I let him go. Sometimes is not about the fish, it’s about the fishing and memories that are made.
Taking a walk 1.11.18
I had an opportunity to venture out beyond my normal routine today. As I walked along the trail at Salmon Run I found this natural threshold. There was a homestead close by at one time but the mountains are quick to reclaim anything that isn’t maintained. Perhaps the threshold here is a warning. “Beyond this point you must leave the outside world behind”. As I walked on a little further the forest began to strip away the domesticated part of my spirit. My feral nature returned. I could smell the wood and stone. I could hear the scampering of small feet just out of sight. The birds are chirping but something caught my attention. There was a hole in the noise. If one stays very still and listens the forest will tell you what is happening around you. As I tracked the silence a jogger came down the path. Once he and his dog passed the noise came back.
It was good to get out of the house even if only for a few minutes. Today was a good day.
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