I try to observe something beautiful each day in unexpected places. I am never disappointed.
Fall is the perfect time to disappear to the heart of the Adirondacks. My photography reflects the view from my own piece of God’s country in Athol, New York. The burning colors, the smell of drying leaves, the crunch under my feet, and the sound of critters gathering food to last them through the barren winter, compels my thoughts to drift to the words of a seventeenth century American poet, Anne Bradstreet. These first two stanzas of “Contemplations” place me in awe of raw nature and the matriarchal strength of spirit reflected in her reverent, yet joyful, words:
I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I,