A Collection of Shadows
Time to hibernate....
It feels to me as if the year has come to an end. I am ready for hibernation, for darkness and rest and stopping trying, just for a while. For turning in and letting go. Am I the only one ready for rest?
This year has been different to the year I thought it would be - as all years are. I finished a novel and made tentative, speculative steps toward a new one. I wrote terrible poems to five minute prompts. I drove a lot, I walked a lot, though less than I would wish. I swam further than I thought I could, then less than I thought I would. I drew and poured blue paint around, sometimes. I saw people, cared for people, struggled with people. I bought a film camera that, one reel in, I still haven’t solved. It doesn’t matter. It is a new, fun, frustrating thing, as all the things worth learning are.
This year I also became a collector. Of those terrible five minute poems, of boat names, and street names, of gathered moments. Of shells and pebbles and conkers and leaves. Of photos - of sea foam and sand swirls, bare branches against the sky and interesting seams within rocks. Of shadows. Mostly, this year, of shadows.
Next week I have the last collaboration of this year to share with you. It’s a good one, and I’m looking forward to posting it. But this week, I’m tired and I’m sure everyone else is too, so instead of writing any more, I’m going to share with you some of my collection of shadows. The shadows come only when there is light. They are everywhere and the are too easy to miss, and maybe no one but me finds them captivating. But here they are in case.
writes, in her beautiful, elegant, captivating book, Chasing Fog, of her fog self. Perhaps what I have here is a shadow self - but they are never shadows directly of me. They are, instead, small things I saw, that gave me pause. They feel more honest than a simple silhouette.I will - I write it here as a promise, to you, to me - make these into a photo book at some point. A little book of shadows. For now, here are a handful - moments snatched as I rushed out the door, as I got into my car, as I edited black words on a white screen, as I spun through the year.
It is not what I normally offer you, but I hope you can take something from it, even if it’s a simply a moment of rest.
Beautiful, Bonnie. So ethereal, haunting, actually very calming. Delightful.
I love soft-edged shadows. These are lovely. x