Landscapes of Identity: Thanksgiving

After a day of rain the morning greeted us with a golden sunrise. Jennie, who awoke in the night, said the moonless sky had been awash in stars. Now the wind, blowing briskly from the north, rustles the leaves that remain on the oaks and pushes choppy waves across the water.

I had intended to grab my camera and go out early while the sunlight retained a warm glow, even going so far as to ask whether others might wish to go with me. Now the light has turned a winter white, washing the color from the landscape. Between the flat light and the cold breeze I’ve lost the drive to actually be outside. Continue reading

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