Stripped Away

There are few leaves left on the trees here in Petoskey. A stiff northern wind has made sure of that. For many, it is a depressing time of the year. The colors are gone and the snow has yet to brighten the landscape. And I have to admit that I end up spending more time indoors than is typical — a good time to catch up on my blog.
But I do relish a weather challenge and Sunday afternoon was perfect — rain, hail, thunder, lightening, and occasionally the sun broke through. I headed just a mile down the road to a nature conservancy. Deep into the woods, the trail became a boardwalk as it crossed soft ground near a stream. Plastered to the walk were leaves in various patterns. Most folks would overlook them but I enjoyed the intensity of the wet, earthy, colors and the simplicity of their interaction on the easel of the boardwalk. As I worked on my images Sunday evening I was reminded of a story my pastor had used the previous Sunday. He talked about the experiences of a family in German occupied Netherlands in WW2. Their incredible story was made known through a book written by Corrie ten Boom called The Hiding Place. Corrie and most of her family ended up spending time in German concentration camps for being part of the underground and hiding Jews in their home. Four of the ten Booms died in the camps but Corrie survived. As you can imagine her return home at the war's end was bittersweet — very happy to be home but missing her family. One would think that on looking back at her time in the camps Corrie would have nothing but feelings of horror and despair but that was not the case. There was a part of her experience in the camps that she actually missed. In the camps, life was minimal — barely enough of the essentials to survive. But in that place where life was stripped down to almost nothing, there was a moment by moment reliance on God. The spiritual life in the camp was very strong.
So now, when I see a bare tree and a few decaying leaves on the ground I think of what is really important in life — certainly not my things — not even my camera or computer :) — it's my walk with my Savior and my God.

Beach Berries

It was a rainy day in Petoskey on Sunday — as it was in much of the midwest. It wasn't a "beach" day in the ordinary swimmer and sunbather sense, but foul weather only serves as a challenge to my creative spirit, so for me it was a beach day. I put the all-weather cover on my camera and headed for the State Park. On my ten minute drive I was conceptualizing the images — the concentric ring patterns left by raindrops as they hit the surface of the small backwater pools or beads of water sliding down slender blades of beach grasses.
You would think that my artistic genes would tell me to explore some new stretch of the park, but here I was making my way along the same old stretch of Little Traverse Bay. It was a surprisingly pleasant stroll. The wet, firm, sand lessened the walking resistance and the rain was light. I figured I had at least an hour before my jacket fabric would begin to saturate and chill me.

At my usual turn-around point I make a slight detour inland to a bank of vegetation that held a mound of dark soil. It was the deep red leaves that first drew my attention — then the fleabane and the berries. The water on the leaves added color saturation and some highlights for some excitement. It wasn't what I imagined I'd be taking pictures of but the unexpected is good creative nurishment. I saw a very rich tapestry. What do you see?