When the time comes to lay down pretense for grown up things, innocence dies, abandoned in the light...

O, to have a little house!

To own the hearth and stool and all!

The heaped-up sods upon the fire,

The pile of turf against the wall!

To have a clock with weights and chains

And pendulum swinging up and down!

A dresser filled with shining delph,

Speckled and white and blue and brown!

I could be busy all the day

Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,

And fixing on their shelf again

My white and blue and speckled store!

I could be quiet there at night

Beside the fire and by myself,

Sure of a bed, and loath to leave

The ticking clock and the shining delph!

Och I but I'm weary of mist and dark,

And roads where there's never a house or bush,

And tired I am of bog and road,

And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

And I am praying to God on high,

And I am praying Him night and day,

For a little house--a house of my own--

Out of the wind's and the rain's way.

Once Upon a Future

The Rungs to Childhood

Decayed Youth

Abandon Pretense 

"Cast off your cloak of protective pretense and step into the world of man."

Into the sea..threads of my watery dream

"Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls."
Khalil Gibran

Waterway

Traces of Civilization

Reeds

Oceanside 

Spray of the Sea

Seascape

Harmony

High Tide

Out to Sea

The Heat of the Day

"I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods."

~Wendell Berry

Tangled Web

Ponderation

Heart of the Tree God

Concrete Jungle

A Day on the Bay

Run Aground

Visitation

Visitation

Visitation to the Shore

Visitation to the Sea

The Dying Light

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Tinted Enamoration

The Dying Light

To Pass the Time

Vulnerable

Vintage

Tears of the Dead

For the Love of Color...

"The evening light of dying summer, just when fall starts to bathe the world in golden sunsets."

Pinwheel 

Blurmotion

The Vanity of Puppets

The Flame

Autumn

The Defeat of Green

Silhouette

The Sun God

The Sun Goddess