Ephemeral

Posted on August 2, 2013 by Barry Lively

Invasive

Posted on July 29, 2013 by Barry Lively

Vine

Posted on July 28, 2013 by Barry Lively

Azalea in the winter

Posted on July 11, 2013 by Barry Lively

Impression

Posted on June 19, 2013 by Barry Lively

Each look, the first

Posted on January 6, 2012 by Barry Lively

In his poem ‘A Guide to the Field’, David Wagoner writes

‘Our first strange steps
On a path that leads us down on a path to its end in water.
Each look, the first.’

‘Each look, the first.’ That’s the way it felt this morning as I went out to shoot. Aside from the trip to Gary last Sunday, I haven’t been out with a camera in some time. So in a way it was ‘Each look, the first.’

I didn’t go far, just to the azalea bush out front, to start.

And then along the driveway.

Winter is supposed to be drab. That’s not what I saw.

There’s a lot of color if we just look.

‘Each look, the first.’ But I won’t wait so long for the next outing.

Red River Gorge, Kentucky

Posted on November 14, 2011 by Barry Lively

Several members of our camera club went down to the Red River Gorge a few weeks ago. We had beautiful weather and many of the leaves were still on the trees.

If the weather had been like that of the previous week – rain, rain and more rain – we might have spent a lot of time indoors playing checkers or something. But the weather was a gift.

I don’t think this fellow caught anything but then I don’t think he cared.

We spend a lot of moments thinking about the future or the past. With a scene like this there is a strong call to stay right here in the present.

I’m ready to go again.

A time for contemplation

Posted on November 13, 2011 by Barry Lively

This last month and a half has been quite busy and I brought down the level of activity with a retreat in southwestern Indiana last week.

This was at Willow Pond Retreat, a small retreat center owned by Charles and Sarah Gipson. Charles had been pastor at Church of the Saviour in Indianapolis in the period just before my wife and I joined that community. I was at the retreat center for several days and while I spent a lot of time photographing the beautiful landscape, I found myself concentrating on the one acre pond that is part of the retreat center and within the pond, just along the shore.

Leaves in water are fascinating.

I suppose one could see melancholy in photographing in the autumn but it is enormously inspiring to me.

Inspiring because there is beauty in both the life and death of these leaves and beyond that, regeneration will follow.

Is this a metaphor for our own lives? We can see beauty in life all around us and my mother in some respects became even more beautiful as she was dying. Mom remains as a gift that will be with me for the rest of my life.