A good friend and artist Darlene Perry passed this poem along some time ago. She thought it reminded her of me when she read it. Indeed we all have our special places, our hideaways. Places we go to breathe, think, clear our minds and regenerate our souls. This is my special place. Full of life that will be lived, with or without me. I am blessed enough to not only be an observer but also to take these photographs of moments in those lives. When I first read this poem it hit home and I thought surely that must have been someone I met in my special place. Please enjoy these few shots and please enjoy Wendell Berry.
When despair grows in me and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting for their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. Wendell Berry