Monday, November 6, 2017

time was, is.

ian posted this old photo today on fb
and it all came back.
farm children
sheep & lambs
my papermill and house.
old manure spreader made into a wagon
and me photographing a living.
this was early spring.
 my living is different now
more quiet
but maybe, just maybe,
less loving frolicking. 
this is late autumn.
 time passes and your heart will break 
and heal
over and over
and you will,
if you're lucky
become real.
it's good work.

11 comments:

Liz A said...

I miss East Coast autumn ... here the live oaks are still green, so thank you for these images.

Even so, our grasses have turned as yours have and the spring-to-autumn metaphor of living has been much on my mind

Velma Bolyard said...

thanks, liz, for checking in and telling me this.

Mo Crow said...

love the subtle colours of your land & how they reflect in your art

Velma Bolyard said...

mo, thankyou.

Hazel said...

Time whooshes and whirrrs, rolling & crawling. I love seeing your seasons here.

Velma Bolyard said...

hazel, and why oh why and how do we keep track of it? and how is memory woven in?

Hazel said...

maybe memories & dreams for the days to come are the warp that hold it all together?

Judy Martin said...

becoming real -

and serene I think. xo

Velma Bolyard said...

hazel, how i love that
judy, maybe, or at least some of the time.

one small stitch said...

love old photos, been looking at of few of my own and the memories flood back. I think of weaving as a metaphor for life - the warp is fixed, plain or patterned, coloured, striped and textured. The weft is what you do with the time and talents that come your way. Wild and wonderful, plain and simple.

Velma Bolyard said...

jean, yes, you have said it perfectly. weaving a life.

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