Reconnecting with nature through hiking, camping, and paddling
The other side of the building on the right is a lovely little downtown restaurant. It’s funny how quickly the scene changes when you walk half a block, around to this end of the building. Despite the litter and trash, I like the lines, the flow and the contrast of this image.
If you click the photo above you can see a larger image of it.
From the other side this sycamore looks solid and nearly invincible. When walking around it you quickly discover there’s a gap at least 5 feet in length, exposing the inside of the tree.
Passing through Piazza del Campidoglio we saw this man reading his newspaper. When I returned the next day, he was there again, on the same step, reading his paper. It struck me as very Roman. I’m betting if you were to go there on just about any morning he would be perched on these steps enjoying the weather and catching up on the latest news.
I spotted this old camper parked just off the Creeper Trail in Damascus, VA. It once offered its owners a means for getting away and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Those days appear to be long gone but the shell of this camper still holds memories of past adventures.
The bright morning light streams in through the windows to illuminates this bedroom on a lazy Sunday morning.
These old pilings in the James River must have served as the foundation for a small bridge. Now they are simply part of the river.
Old tires, scrap metal and a fuel tank lay in a heap of urban decay outside the window of this rundown building.
This tree once stood tall and provided shelter and possibly food to many of its forest companions. Seeing it laying, lifelessly in the water reminded me of the simple truth of mortality. Not in a morbid or depressing way, just as an immutable law of nature. Keeping that in mind, we should all live each moment to its fullest.
The long stem of this wild grass silently hangs above competing weeds, wildflowers and native plants, patiently waiting for its seeds to drop. Some will be eaten by birds and field mice. Others will fall in places they cannot germinate. But for eons these simple seeds have dropped from similar pods carrying the lessons of their ancestors. Each year enough find their way into the earth to continue the silent tradition.
