Anticipating winter

"There are so many leaves. Piles of them. I take pleasure in their abundance. More saints than you could ever dream of. Each one singular. Each one itself. Yellow, red, orange, parchment. They sail down in the autumn air like fearless sky divers. 

They are so trusting -- letting go, completely. Not questioning as I do... Will it be safe? Will I understand? Will it hurt? ... stalling, qualifying, questioning, instead of releasing and taking to the air ..."

-- Gunilla Norris, quoted in 365 Nirvana

As the last colors of autumn begin to fade to brown and the November grays begin rolling in, I feel some part of myself rolling over, curling up, settling with some relief into the enforced stillness of winter.

As a photographer, I used to call this the fallow time, because the gray skies extinguish so much of the light that I'd pretty much stop photographing altogether -- and then by spring I'd be terribly restless and eager to get out with my camera.


But after last winter's adventures with the goddesses, I find I'm feeling more relaxed; even a sense of anticipation about what the winter might bring.  I'm beginning to understand that, for me, the photographs serve as a metaphor, and that the exploration of the metaphor continues long after its creation.

And even if the creativity wanes for a bit, there's a lot of catchup work and tidying to be done in preparation for next year; a chance to sort through the images and seek what is longing to be expressed.

So it's all good...