The Itsy-Bitsy Spider

Much to my dismay, I couldn't miss the shadow clinging casually to the door beside my bedroom window. The air of authority stating that this was his now, the ease of placing his hairy, elegantly long yet clumsily placed legs at a position that threatened a jump if I made the wrong move. 

It had happened. 

He had taken over my house, in one night.

The itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the water spout

Down came the rain

And washed the spider out

Out came the sun

And dried up all the rain

And the itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the spout again

I do have a question though, the web that's next to the spider, does anybody know what it is? A cocoon of some kind? A home for the babies? A kill that's being savoured?

A Walk Through Time

Ever since I can remember I've always been drawn to cemeteries. 

The calm that thickens the air allowing you to believe that for a second you are the only person, the only 'god' still walking the Earth. The peacefulness beckons to your soul and asks you to join it under the shade of a worn down tree. History grabs hungrily at every fiber of your mortality and your imagination begins to take over; questioning each name, each date, each age - wondering where that person's life really began and where it really ended. The story of each life panned out for you to guess as your eyes drift from stone to stone.

On Death

The Almitra spoke, saying, we would ask now of death.

And he said:

You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heath of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one. 

In depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. 

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath form its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. 

The Prophet

Kahlil Gibran

Walker & Company

Phoenix Press, 1923

Childrens Graves - No Names

Science & Nature

Miss Mother Nature

Miss Mother Nature

Miss Mother Nature

Texture

Texture

A Hobby

I'm not one of those camera owners who instantly think that once an expensive Canon has landed snugly into their laps they instantly upgrade to a professional photographer level. Not at all.

The first sentence of this blog had to begin like that because I think there are a certain percentage of trained and certified photographers who find offense when someone like myself begins a blog purely for the moments they have captured on camera. Then there is the other percentage who take it upon themselves to comment (not to subtly) that when someone owns a camera they 'automatically think they are thee best photographer in the world'. 
Not true. 

I was lucky enough to receive a Canon as a gift (thank you Richard Kuiper) and because I value the time on this planet, with the people and moments that have been placed within my life (not to mention an extremely bad memory), I capture the moments, the memories, the days that have significance within my life and I decided to place them on a social network because it gives me somewhere to save this memory based history.

I am open to criticism and to each their opinions are owned and are respected (otherwise freedom of speech would not exist) but I do ask that no haters be hating. 

Welcome to my world.