Seems like you DID find words, ignored even trying to explain the poetry of that magnificent lily pad photo, and went about your business, encouraging us to get off our butts and find a wildlife refuge
It is thanks to wise old owls (friends), like you sometimes that I am reminded to just keep doing the work. How very grateful I am. "Get thee to a wildlife refuge..." I believe I would wear such words on a t-shirt if I found one, though I wear them in my heart already.
Keep hoping I'll see some of your Summer Dry work here on Substack one of these days.
I love how you wrestle with your egoic desire for praise and your artist drive to capture and celebrate beauty in its purist form...a rich dance with your humanity. Thank you for being so exquisitely imperfect in the refuge of your inner wild.
No great feast of wisdom here?! Are you kidding me? I’m FULL from your feast, each lush image and accompanying words a prayer, a remembrance. And your Common Yellowthroat friend! I’m quite certain he, too, was giggling with glee to have such rapt attention. And his little fluffed out feathers on each side (from a gentle breeze?) are too cute. New resident in my heart.
You're fun. And continually, kind and generous to a fault, my friend. I'm so grateful for your upbeat and playful spirit. What a lovely wake you leave wherever you move and add your voice. Thank you. 🙏
A true delight of words and pictures. My absolute favourite. My dogs do not care for my complaints or unappreciated genius when we go out, they only care that I have treats and they can leap around and charge about while I attempt to capture some of the beauty that surrounds us with my camera. 💛
David, we all know the saying about “a picture is worth a thousand words”. I think that your photos are worth a thousand poems and a thousand joyous heartbeats. Your photos are wonderful as usual, and need no words. They sing of the beauty, complexity and abundance of the nature surrounding us, if we just take the time to look. I especially liked the common yellowthroat photos. They are near and dear to my heart, having been the first warbler species I identified in my New Jersey youth. I saw only a single yellowthroat (probably way off course and lost) during my 35 years in Alaska, but now retired here in Washington, my heart eagerly awaits their cryptic but definite arrival each spring. Did I mention that brilliant Rufous Hummer this morning, flashing its coppery gorget for all to see?
Gary, thank you. Love hearing this glimpse of your birdy past. Totally agree with you about their arrival in spring. Such a gift. Geeze, I'd have thought they'd fit right in in Alaska, especially SE.
As for the Rufous visitor this morning... I've only seen one so far this year around here. Been wondering if something was up. happy to hear that they're out there on the peninsula at least.
It is interesting to contemplate how Monet’s creativity would have evolved if he was in this wildlife refuge. You painted Lily pads with your eyes and camera.
This story was especially delightful! The lily pads, the ducks with youngsters, the dragon flies were all fun to see, but your conversation with the little common yellow throated bird was so David Perry, it had me inspired and smiling. You sir, are a treasure in my life.
Bob, you've made my day many times before, so it won't seem all new in that way, but once again, sir... Day made. Thank you for your kind and generous heart.
Lucky for me, it seemed to want to hang out. It kept flying off for a short jaunt and coming back, landing within about five feet of me and just sitting there, waving in the breezes...
There IS great wisdom in this piece David. Isn't that how it goes sometimes, you think you've got nothing and out of that empty space you offer us the reminder that there is grace in that space. Thank you.
Thank you, Donna for pulling off life's busy freeway long enough to look and read, and then compose such a generous note to leave behind. I'm touched by your kindness.
Thank you David. I loved your lead in. So much truth. And then all you found as you were present in the refuge. Keep walking about--your words and images are a blessing.
Thanks for this. Especially for the photo of my friend the Swainson's Thrush. Looks like you found a way to express yourself despite (or perhaps because of?) the block.
There were those telltale, single note 'peeps' all through the woods and in this context they seemed to be reassurances to the littles back in the nest while the protectors were out hunting, because they increased in repetition just before they headed back with food. But there were also those occasional, upward spiraling, sonic, stained glass windows here and there throughout the woods. As for being blocked, the best way I've found not to think about pink elephants is to fill one's head with birdsong and wild ducklings...
Seems like you DID find words, ignored even trying to explain the poetry of that magnificent lily pad photo, and went about your business, encouraging us to get off our butts and find a wildlife refuge
It is thanks to wise old owls (friends), like you sometimes that I am reminded to just keep doing the work. How very grateful I am. "Get thee to a wildlife refuge..." I believe I would wear such words on a t-shirt if I found one, though I wear them in my heart already.
Keep hoping I'll see some of your Summer Dry work here on Substack one of these days.
Those photos are just incredible. The colors!!
Thank you Deirdre.
A picture is worth a thousand words, they say. You’ve just written 15,000… beautifully. ✨
Thank you for such kindness, Georgia.
I love how you wrestle with your egoic desire for praise and your artist drive to capture and celebrate beauty in its purist form...a rich dance with your humanity. Thank you for being so exquisitely imperfect in the refuge of your inner wild.
"Thank you for being so exquisitely imperfect in the refuge of your inner wild."
Mercy, Kate, this is one of the loveliest things I can remember anyone ever saying to me.
A deep bow, and thank you.
No great feast of wisdom here?! Are you kidding me? I’m FULL from your feast, each lush image and accompanying words a prayer, a remembrance. And your Common Yellowthroat friend! I’m quite certain he, too, was giggling with glee to have such rapt attention. And his little fluffed out feathers on each side (from a gentle breeze?) are too cute. New resident in my heart.
You're fun. And continually, kind and generous to a fault, my friend. I'm so grateful for your upbeat and playful spirit. What a lovely wake you leave wherever you move and add your voice. Thank you. 🙏
There is no healer like Nature.
A true delight of words and pictures. My absolute favourite. My dogs do not care for my complaints or unappreciated genius when we go out, they only care that I have treats and they can leap around and charge about while I attempt to capture some of the beauty that surrounds us with my camera. 💛
Thank you, Emily.
"My dogs do not care for my complaints or unappreciated genius..."
Alas, we are doomed to suffer the slings and arrows of the snack obsessed while we await a proper appreciation of our situation...
Indeed we are 💛
David, we all know the saying about “a picture is worth a thousand words”. I think that your photos are worth a thousand poems and a thousand joyous heartbeats. Your photos are wonderful as usual, and need no words. They sing of the beauty, complexity and abundance of the nature surrounding us, if we just take the time to look. I especially liked the common yellowthroat photos. They are near and dear to my heart, having been the first warbler species I identified in my New Jersey youth. I saw only a single yellowthroat (probably way off course and lost) during my 35 years in Alaska, but now retired here in Washington, my heart eagerly awaits their cryptic but definite arrival each spring. Did I mention that brilliant Rufous Hummer this morning, flashing its coppery gorget for all to see?
Gary, thank you. Love hearing this glimpse of your birdy past. Totally agree with you about their arrival in spring. Such a gift. Geeze, I'd have thought they'd fit right in in Alaska, especially SE.
As for the Rufous visitor this morning... I've only seen one so far this year around here. Been wondering if something was up. happy to hear that they're out there on the peninsula at least.
It is interesting to contemplate how Monet’s creativity would have evolved if he was in this wildlife refuge. You painted Lily pads with your eyes and camera.
Love this, Jann. It would indeed be fascinating to see what Monet would have made of todays mediums...
This story was especially delightful! The lily pads, the ducks with youngsters, the dragon flies were all fun to see, but your conversation with the little common yellow throated bird was so David Perry, it had me inspired and smiling. You sir, are a treasure in my life.
Bob, you've made my day many times before, so it won't seem all new in that way, but once again, sir... Day made. Thank you for your kind and generous heart.
But the truth lives there in the spaces in between…
Awesome, from start to continued!
Thank you, Danyce.
I’ve never seen anything like that pure scarlet Meadowhawk dragonfly!
Lucky for me, it seemed to want to hang out. It kept flying off for a short jaunt and coming back, landing within about five feet of me and just sitting there, waving in the breezes...
Where is this, by the way?
Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge
There IS great wisdom in this piece David. Isn't that how it goes sometimes, you think you've got nothing and out of that empty space you offer us the reminder that there is grace in that space. Thank you.
Thank you, Donna for pulling off life's busy freeway long enough to look and read, and then compose such a generous note to leave behind. I'm touched by your kindness.
More of a human refuge, when you get right down to it.
I believe you're right, Brad. Such sacred spaces...
Thank you David. I loved your lead in. So much truth. And then all you found as you were present in the refuge. Keep walking about--your words and images are a blessing.
This note is a real gift, Glenn. Thank you. 🙏
Thanks for this. Especially for the photo of my friend the Swainson's Thrush. Looks like you found a way to express yourself despite (or perhaps because of?) the block.
There were those telltale, single note 'peeps' all through the woods and in this context they seemed to be reassurances to the littles back in the nest while the protectors were out hunting, because they increased in repetition just before they headed back with food. But there were also those occasional, upward spiraling, sonic, stained glass windows here and there throughout the woods. As for being blocked, the best way I've found not to think about pink elephants is to fill one's head with birdsong and wild ducklings...