Journal 2023.11.25
The forest on the east facing slope of the hills has held onto the colors of fall for months. I drive through on a narrow winding road. The bright yellow-orange leaves hit by sun burst in color against deep green moss, black wall stones, little freshets of water and dark, watered down fallen leaves. The whole road is a black thread winding in the shade and open patches of sunlight edged with moss.
The air this morning was frigid, and it felt good. The sun rose and then the air felt warm, and frost remained in the shade.
What I tend to notice has changed. I can see it in the photos I've wanted to shoot. I like visual art because it reminds me that my experience is subconsciously created. What I notice makes up what I think about and in the end, believe.
I think the photos I've been taking recently have a feeling of joy and lightness that I feel inside. I feel a kindness towards everyone and everything.
"...I was glad and grateful beyond measure for the scent of roots and leaves, the thick smell of the fir-sap, that is like the smell of marrow. Only the forest could bring all things to calm within me; my mind was strong and at ease.
Day after day I tramped over the wooded hills with Æsop at my side, and asked no more than leave to keep on going there day after day.."
— Pan, Knut Hamsun
