 Its light is undeniable. Its intensity has been known to turn a non-believer into a born again mystic. What holds such radiant power? The moon. There are 12 (sometimes 13) full moons in a year. Out of those 12, probably half are clearly visible. Six times in a year, if I am very lucky, I am washed in celestial energy.  Now that we are all in a, make the best of a bad situation scenario, the moon has become my lifeline. This silver, shimmering orb shakes me from my dull, monotonous funk, replacing it with the wonder of being alive. It’s a slap across my face from Mother Nature saying, “Snap out of it”, said with a thick Brooklyn accent. Under the super-charged glow of January’s Wolf moon, I entered an alternate dimension. It was a space where the mundane, analytical mind shuts off. Logic was momentarily suspended and replaced with sheer amazement.  Finally, I awoke from my dreary slumber.
Live in color, Abby
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 “Ice contains no future, just the past, sealed away.  As if alive, everything in the world is sealed up inside, clear and distinct.  Ice can preserve all kinds of things that way - cleanly, clearly.  That's the essence of ice, the role it plays.”  ― Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman  Live in color,
Abby  There was a brilliant TV commercial years ago. A camera zooms in on a single egg. A composed yet somber voice says, “This is your brain” The camera then pans to a hot skillet sitting on a lit stove. The egg is cracked on the rim of the pan, opened and dropped in. The egg sizzles, spits and spatters. The camera focuses on the fried, burnt remains of the egg. The voice returns, “This is your brain on drugs.” It was a quite affective visual. How’s your brain doing these days? Sizzling?  As autumn takes hold here in Vermont, light and color fade. For a photographer that’s like saying goodbye to your best good-time buddies from summer. This morning instead of being greeted by cool, wafting breezes and soft autumnal forest hues, I was met by ice — hard, brittle, unforgiving, linear, patterns. I was confronted by the brawny voice of nature. The natural world holds both male and female sides but, I respond to the smooth and silky, feminine voice. The gentle curvy lines, the soft contemplative tones, that speak to the right side of my brain. But this morning, a different landscape appeared before me.  I saw chaos and confusion. Where did my soft, quiet place go?
This is my brain on 2020. Live in color, Abby  What is your job? I don’t mean what job pays your bills, what is your heart’s work? What were you sent here to contribute? Standing on a jagged rock, on the coast of Maine, with majestic sweeping views in front of me, my attention kept pulling me to a single leaf behind me. Ignoring that call, I continued to click away at the grand vistas. That constant summoning to a solitary, seemingly insignificant object in the woods continued throughout the day, along with my refusal to listen. Like a mother fed up with her child's barrage of “why” questions, while tugging at her pant leg, I finally gave in to the relentless calls and turned to the woods. A cast of characters called to me. A lone leaf being gently held on a pine bough.  A delicate windswept feather, finding a space to breathe on a mammoth rock.  An immature fern sprout, late to the party, as autumn settles in.  And a still life composed by nature showing her harmony and jewel-like intricacies. We all need space. Space to truly take in a moment, space to recognize an objects inherent delicacy and most importantly space for gratitude arise. So... never under-estimate the power of an apparently inconsequential composition. Not to worry, I’m here to remind you.  Live in color,
Abby  Am I really any more than the sum of my parts? This thought arose from a happy bunch of sunflowers perched on my kitchen windowsill. In full bloom the sunflower is a bold and bright flower, however for me, this golden blossom only begins to get interesting when the decay process starts. Each vibrant petal begins to mutate into an exquisite, character-rich, twisted and gnarled expression of transformation.  I carefully deconstructed my sunflower, revealing much more than its many parts. It unveiled many different layers of seeing. Where do I choose to put my attention? On the whole? Or on its unique parts? Today, I chose to put my attention on its parts. The bigger challenge in life is to recognize and nurture the beautiful and imperfect parts of all living things, without ever losing sight of their glorious whole.  Live in color,
Abby  He has been with me for 68 years. We both are a little tattered and worn, but still here. When I was a child, Rabbit was my most treasured possession. I dragged him everywhere, clenching firmly to his ear. I needed him, he made my little person’s perspective tolerable in a big person’s world. I awoke every day with him in my arms and would not close my eyes in the evening until he was nestled close to my chest. As I grew, inevitability, he fell out of favor. However, I never abandoned him. Through the years he always had a seat in my bedroom, my silent witness, where he was content to watch the ebbs and flows of my life. There are things that we hold onto in our lives, seemingly trivial, like Rabbit. However, he is anything but trivial. Today he sits on my dresser, with fur that has been loved off, and an ear that has been stitched on, a constant reminder never to lose my childlike enthusiasm. Today, for old time’s sake, Rabbit and I took a walk together in the meadow, grabbing his all too familiar ear. With crickets hopping across our path and dandelion buds caught between my toes, I noticed my sense of astonishment in nature has never diminished nor faltered from when I was a child. I still smile at a radiant sunset and am simply giddy over the morning dew lit up by the rising sun’s rays. We all need reminders of what is important. Rabbit has taught me the value of a trusted friend, and the patience to stay with the ordinary long enough for it to reveal the extraordinary. But Rabbit always knew that. Live in color, Abby   “Come rest in my boughs. I will support you. I will show you how to surrender and be at ease.”  That is what I heard rising from the trees on a brilliant summer morning, as a few women gathered on the campus of Southern Vermont Art Center. Tree yoga brought us together, a need to be centered and at peace was the intention. “My branches will guide your eyes skyward, my roots will ground you.”  I found a palpable shift of energy standing under the trees. I felt supported from both the ground beneath my feet and from the branches gracefully swaying above my head. I felt cradled and comforted as if in the arms of a wise woman.  “It’s time to relinquish control and trust the process.”  Who knew these grand cedars could be such an invaluable source of aged wisdom? It is no wonder since this venerable species has been with us and revered since the beginning of time. Its wood was used to build sacred temples and burned in purification ceremonies.  “The heart’s affections are divided like the branches of the cedar tree; if the tree loses one strong branch; it will suffer but it does not die; it will pour all its vitality into the next branch so that it will grow and fill the empty place.” – Kahlil Gibran Resilience, support, strength and hope — that is what the cedar tree offers us.  A simple yoga class became anything but simple. Imbued with wisdom from ancient trees, pursuing an ancient discipline, as fingers were placed in ancient mudras...I surrendered.  Live in color, Abby  Intrigued? Tree yoga will be held at Southern Vermont Art Center in Manchester, Vermont every Saturday morning in July. https://www.svac.org/   I’m tired of waking up to a spectacular spring day crying. I’m exhausted from all the noise. I’m so sad to see how all our lives have changed. I am distressed for my grandson and the world he is inheriting. I am heartbroken. How do I hold on to my sanity? How do I nurture that small, quiet space I have to weather this storm?  On a recent visit to a friend’s house, who is an avid gardener and herbalist, I found the answer. Nature. As I entered her back yard I saw an assemblage of potted plants in all shapes and sizes. Each with only one variety in its designated container, arranged in groups to highlight their inherent beauty.  I just sat and took the spectacle in. Moved by their grace, I reached for my camera and clicked away. There was a steady breeze wafting through the garden, so creating a tack sharp image was impossible. That never stopped me. I clicked away. I found an exquisiteness in the blurred lines. Blocks of vibrant color came alive showing a different perspective and a moment of calm.  My hope is that the following images will allow you to also have a moment of calm. A moment for you to find your small, quiet, space to wipe your tears and see the good that surrounds us, even in difficult times.          Live in color, Abby Thank you Mary  Every good story has a cast of characters. It is the uniquely different personalities that weave a rich narrative. Follow me into my garden, into a wild patch of herbs and weeds. This unattended plot is lush and humming with life. It is a place where field mint and chive live harmoniously with their roots deeply planted ensuring their perennial reappearance. I was drawn to this patch of weeds at the break of dawn. I heard an undeniable call, summoning me. Getting up from my warm, comfy, bed I made my way outside and positioned myself next to the tangled plot. There I sat on the moist grass looking for nothing in particular and wanting nothing. I just observed. Slowly, I was delighted to be introduced to this botanic cast of characters. It all started with the Gate-keeper, protecting the newly formed buds.  The harmonic resonance, swirling through the air was supplied by the choir.  Then my eye met the sage.  And what story would be complete without the temptress.  There are worlds within worlds and stories within stories all available to us if only we sit still.
Live in color, Abby  Folklore tells us, in a time before man’s presence, there existed a species of little people. A jolly, reclusive race with an intimate relationship with nature. They were the keepers of the earth’s most guarded secrets. Welcome to the realm of Fairyland. Today, sprites are visible to the trained eye. They come in many guises, specifically designed for their unique habitat. They are most visible in the brilliant light of dawn, or the waning light of dusk. The arrival of solstices and equinoxes are their most celebrated time.  As the sun slipped behind a mountain ridge today, with only a handful of days away from the summer solstice, I was treated to an enchanting tree sprite display. I had the pleasure of watching them dance and sing in the receding light of this warm, spring day. Sprites began to disappeared from human sight when civilization began to encroach upon their woods, however they return when we need to be reminded of our magical world. I say to myself, “How can one not believe in their existence, as they frolic right before my eyes?” For now, I am content to watch them dance, with my body pressed in the wild, sweet meadow grass.  They have stayed hidden, cloaked in nature’s many disguises because of one special talent. They have the ability to shape-shift: one minute a tree sprite in complete jubilation, the next, a sprouting spring leaf. Just another magical day in the company of sprites.  Live in color,
Abby |