#ThursdayTreeLove | A Sweet Remembrance

Sweet memories are timeless treasures of the heart.

It’s late and I am overwhelmed [not panicked] by “all the things” and all the COVID-19 precautions and contingencies. I find it necessary to pause the madness of planning and class preparations to share a little #treelove this evening.

This is not the post I planned, but it is the one I needed.

In the photo above, my then two-year-old [thought he] was hiding in the banana trees at my parents’ home. I ran across the photo on my hard drive moments ago, and at the sight of this sweet remembrance, a wave of calm washed over me.

All is not right in the world, but all is well in my heart.


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

#ThursdayTreeLove | Blue

How do you see that tree? It’s [blue]? Well then, make it [blue], the best [blue] on your palette.  –Reduction of Paul Gaugin’s advice to his student Paul Sérusier [The actual quote below]

This has been the most rainy and dismal winter I’ve experienced yet. I was certain I would lose my mind if I woke up this morning to the sound of rain hitting the window. Thankfully, even though it’s still gloomy out, I awakened to silence. “Lo and behold,” there will be sun tomorrow, and, based on the forecast, we won’t see rain again till Tuesday. Woohoo!

I captured the tree above one morning last week on the way to work. I was drawn to the two trees leaning into each other and the mist rising from the earth (no longer visible), but I was weary of gray skies, so I turned the whole thing blue. 😀

How do you see that tree? It’s green? Well then, make it green, the best green on your palette. How do you see those trees? They are yellow. Well then, put down yellow. And that shadow is rather blue. So render it with pure ultramarine. Those red leaves? Use vermillion. –Paul Gaugin


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

For Langston | Shatter This Darkness…Into a Thousand Lights of Sun

Today would have been Langston Hughes’ 118th birthday. Some of my Hughes books are in my [work] office; others are unfortunately buried in one of my many unpacked boxes, so I didn’t have the pleasure of revisiting my precious books and slowly inhaling the pages.

Like so many other Black poets, I fell in love with Langston Hughes through the books on my older siblings’ bookshelves. I took a course focusing on Hughes in graduate school and was sorely disappointed by the instructor’s style. He was knowledgeable but not an effective facilitator. He missed Hughes’ brilliance in his focus on the “celebrity” and ambiguity of Hughes.

I accidentally shot the “abstract” photo this morning while finishing up a letter to a friend. It pairs well with the closing lines of Hughes’ poem, “As I Grew Older.”

It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun—
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky—
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!

–Langston Hughes, “As I Grew Older”

Many read this poem and see disillusionment. The speaker of the poem dismisses the idealism and replaces it with the realization that in America his Blackness stands as a barrier to his dream. However, there is hope here too…He has “almost forgotten” the dream, but he recognizes that thick walls of racism can be breached, toppled even, by his dark hands.

Moreover…

Dark hands united with other hands can “shatter the darkness…into a thousand whirling dreams of sun.”

In This Moment…

In this moment, I am Monday evening weary, but I am enjoying the quiet just before bedtime and the beautiful note written by Nicole E., my partner for Love Notes 30. For the first prompt, “In this moment,” she penned:

In this moment…

…you are a gift of love to all those who meet you.
…your desires of the heart are being nurtured by Mother Nature.
…everything you need for success is in the very place you stand. Take a few deep breaths, center yourself, and look around you. Inspiration is right there.
…you are not only enough, but you are allowed to ask for more.
…there is a cup of tea waiting for you to savor every sip. It wants to reveal its magic to you.
…I have enjoyed writing this note to you!

Nicole wrote her note inside an elegant laser cut card by Mara-Mi. I can’t seem to photograph the card adequately, but you can see a picture of the card here: Mara-Mi Floral Card.

The roses are in honor of my mom’s birthday. She’s 83 today! 🙂

Until next time…

How Much Is the Doggie in the Window?

After declaring that I would participate in Nancy Merrill’s photo challenge (a couple of weeks ago), I realized two things:

  1. I had already decided to participate in the weekly challenge hosted by Capture 52, a private Facebook photography group, and
  2. it’s often near impossible for me to find the time to photograph the weekly subjects, no matter how intriguing.

Therefore, I’ve decided to participate in a way that allows me a creative moment without the [self-imposed] stress–a mix of Nancy’s challenge, the Capture 52 challenge, and shots of whatever speaks to me when I can’t “find” anything to photograph related to the prompts.

Today, I’m sharing one of the photos I captured for the Capture 52 Week 4 prompt: Green.

Who knew I’d discover green puppies in a shop window? I couldn’t resist taking a shot with my phone camera or singing the song, “How Much Is the Doggie in the Window?” Are you singing it too?

Be sure to tune in tomorrow for #ThursdayTreeLove. Maybe, there will be more green!

A Photo a Week | Opposite Weather

I decided to participate in Nancy Merrill’s “Photo a Week” Challenge this year. Even though my camera is a constant companion, I have not done well with yearlong photo challenges. However, I’m inspired by my blogging friend Laurie’s completion of 52 weeks of photos last year, and I’m hoping to change that.

As I was driving last weekend, I noticed we’ve reached the stage of winter in which brown and gray dominate. I miss the brilliance of autumn, so I was pleased to find Nancy’s post coaxing us out of the dull gray and into the color of any of the other seasons with the prompt “opposite weather.”

I eagerly scrolled through my autumn photos and found two pics of oak leaves taken one brisk autumn morning just before Thanksgiving–my last shots of Autumn 2019.

The year’s last, loveliest smile,
Thou com’st to fill with hope the human heart,
And strengthen it to bear the storms awhile,
Till winter’s frowns depart.
John Howard Bryant, from “Indian Summer”
(often misattributed to his brother, Poet William cullen Bryant)

Enjoy, and be sure to tune in tomorrow for #ThursdayTreeLove!

From the Shadows…Into the Light

I did not come to photography looking for magic. I came looking for a way to speak my pain. In the process of finding images to portray my darkness, I passed through the shadows into light. Now, I am one of photography’s many lovers, devoted to the art of seeing and revealing. […] There’s something holy about this work, something healing about this search for light. Like the pilgrim’s journey, it’s heaven all the way.

–Jan Phillips, God Is at Eye Level

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

–Mary Oliver, “The Uses of Sorrow”

Through a casual Facebook post featuring some of her favorite books, my pen friend Connie F, introduced me to Jan Phillip’s book, God Is at Eye Level [Thanks, Connie!]. With Amazon [birthday] gift card in hand [Thanks, Tee!], I ordered the book and two others on creative and contemplative photography. 

The photograph of the wilted sunflower is the result of an exercise in God Is at Eye Level that invites readers to use an entire [pretend] 24-exposure roll of film to explore one strong emotion. It is my attempt to capture the tension between the darkness that walks with me as I deal with grief and trauma and the light I feel I need to project.  

But I am learning, day by day, there is value in darkness, particularly if we are using it to move toward Light.

In the quote above, Phillips underscores the usefulness of darkness, its role in our creativity and healing. Darkness is a “gift,” a necessary part of process; therefore, it’s critical that we face the darkness, wrestle with it, deal, so that we might emerge whole, or maybe not as fractured. Running away from it—creating some inauthentic happy place—only imprisons us. The operative word is emerge. Eventually, we “pass through” darkness and into the fullness of Light.