Still looking up. A week of gray rainy days. Realized today how much I miss living in the country. Rain, even winter rain is a completely different creature in the country; in the country it cleans, refreshes, space deepens and widens, fields become vast, but in the city it contains us, directs our path and cautions. This week, looking up allows me lose the sense of confinement of the streets and houses, perhaps after my mother died my soul settled into that of a bird. It's true between showers as the flocks of birds alternately rest themselves and careen through the sky I feel kinship. I've yet to catch them through my viewfinder, but as their wings beat against the invisible and then clasp against their bodies to plummet my breath catches, and my mind strains to remember the shape and movement of their bodies and flock formations.
Today when it began sprinkling I stepped out my door and began to walk, determined to recover a sense of freedom walking in the rain had when I roamed cowfields as a girl. Deliberately remembered to accept the cold and wet walk erect shoulders back, knowing that home promises warmth and dry clothes and watch the world, up. The wind pushes the treetops that stubbornly hold leaves year round. A sycamore dressed in the beards of spanish moss waves solemnly. A crossroad, I choose the direction under the trees. Harder rain relax against it, water streams into my fleece sweater, and travels up my pantlegs. Lightning strikes near and hesitation stops my steps looking at all the telephone and power lines above me trees thrashing above them, wiping my eyes to see above me and continue. My shoes soak slowly and the water sucked from my lips is sweeter than any other. Finally fully soaked I gleefully stomp in puddles, rounding the corner to home just as the rain begins to settle into drizzle. My skin feels icy but not painful, clean. Sorely needed after a rough start to 2008.
Almost all of these were taken from inside my Grandparent's yard after my Grandfather's funeral last Tuesday.
It's a week of new beginnings, though small; I've changed my banner.
6 comments:
I really love the drawing of the branches. It is my dream to make some prints or drawings with them, but always when I try it, I recognize that the nature is much, much better artist than I.
The polaroids are amazing!! The soft pink tone in it makes it.
Hi Erin, I just tagged you and I hope you will go on.
I, too, am a lover of bare trees and power lines. It's true that when looking up into the sky it's easy to find some distraction and maybe even some solace.
Your polaroids are beautifully done.
hey there, Orange Girl. ;). was trying to write a letter to you yesterday but kept fumbling with the words. this past weekend was so blah.
came again to read this post of you walking in the rain...want to tell you how touched i am by your ways of being, of being able to keep on going so beautifully despite all that has happened. i love hearing you mention how you roamed the countryside when younger. i grew up in the city so often fantasize about running wild in the country. can't wait for the weather to get warmer here so i can be back on my trails.
your polaroids of the bare branches are dreamy and makes me sad a little. but i love looking at them still.
p.s. your banner is a big noticeable change! i love the image of the woolly wool, especially how you have twirled it into string. is that one of the new experiments? but still not quite used to the yellowish dark tones...maybe because i'll always be linking you with white on white?
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