When I am in the presence of the robin, I simply am. Without the ‘I’. That’s it. That’s enough. Although we are so obviously very dissimilar, there is this notion that ultimately we are of the same. Only expressed differently. Home is same. I see the blue marble without borders or countries when I look into its dark eyes. I sense the unfathomable mystery behind our very existence. And that truly is home.
If there’s one thing I’ve rarely been attracted to photographing, it is flowers. With the exception of sunflowers. And dandelions at their last grasp of the familiar world, the only world they have known, before the winds pull the seeds from their place of origin and carry them to unknown
I am looking at this beautiful natural balancing act that played out in front of me one day in late June. I am grateful I can look at it again and then again this crispy cold October day…
So this is how you clean your feathers and bath in the rays of the early summer’s sun. I hadn’t known this friendly winged one for long before it displayed the utmost trust by making itself entirely vulnerable in my presence by splaying itself on the ground like this, trusting
It had stopped raining. The summer storm had settled too. And my little young friend the winged one with the big courageous heart flies over and says hello before settling on a branch, all buffed up and starts twittering without catching its breath between each note, telling me all about
Winter went, spring happened, a whole lot of other things happened, and then June arrived and in the midst of it all, this beautiful little curious winged one all of a sudden sat on a branch next to me, still with its guardian parent looking after its safety and therefore