Jonathan Carr and I checked out Parkertown Docks for the first time ever. We hung around through blue hour for the full moon rise. It so happened to be the second full moon of October, making this a blue hour blue moon rise.
Whether by fall or by autumn, people love this time of year. I counted myself among their number as a child, but as an adult it has not been so. This has proved a season of struggle. I seek to recapture the magic I once knew. I yearn to dance again with Autumn.
Time may not be on our side and yet we soldier on and endure. We bide our time, turn to our strengths and cultivate purpose to prepare for the renaissance. Time will come to order again. The arrow of time, never directionless, will reassert its dominion and the universe will unfold as it should.
Creative expression comes in many forms. Here, a day removed from my 38th birthday, I share a poem to dance with my photograph. Touching on the themes of time, age, and acceptance as we grapple with inevitability.
Nature is love. Love is nature. At blue hour the dance of night and day intwine in splendor to show the whole world how passion yearns. A photograph captures this dance, this light play, this teachable moment, and allows us to share in its glory long after the moment itself.
Blue hour, day glow, motion blur, and striking reflections mark the scene on Little Egg Harbor bay.
A serene blue hour settles in over disused docks and reflective, glassy bay water.
Things were quiet on the salt marsh tonight. A subtle blue hour affair in our slow march toward spring. While the calendar insists spring starts tomorrow, winter has other ideas. And so here I sit griping about three backloaded winters in a row. Backloaded meaning winters that will—not—end. March 2018 has been active with coastal […]
I’ve been listening to Walter Isaacson’s, Leonardo Da Vinci, on Audible. While I haven’t enjoyed it as much as his biographies on Steve Jobs, Albert Einstein, and Benjamin Franklin, I find I am connect more though Walter’s latest work. Being something of an interdisciplinary and a procrastinator there is a resonance with the famous Florentine. […]
The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. A pale sun rose and set and rose again. Red leaves whispered in the wind. Dark clouds filled the skies and turned to storms. —Bran III, A Dance with Dragons; volume five in A Song of Ice and Fire. Author George R. […]