You.
You.
You.
You have loved me
like mountains do …
Tag: Virginia
the unflinching honesty of fresh snow…
I go out walking in the white — shocked, as always, at how it erases what came Before… And how it reveals whatever came After. On its clean slate, I can see clearly the crease made by the wing of a low-flying bird. The tracks of even the most soft-footed fox. The bullethole of each […]
Flashback: An Invitation to Look Again …
Just over a year ago, I posted this little story. I stumbled across it again yesterday, and it still feels thick with magic, mystery, and fearless everyday wonder. Enjoy, friends … * This is how it happens: I am out shopping, late Sunday afternoon, when I see on the shelves a little oval mirror that hangs […]
Whiteout …
Watch the snow come… Watch it swallow the blue hills… Watch it erase the horizon, snuff the sound of the day in silence: Watch me fill the silence with song. ❤
Off the grid …
For the next four days, I’ll be cozied up in a quiet cabin with T and a few special friends. While it may be a little quiet around here for the time being, know that I’ll be scribbling, shooting and contemplating, with hopefully lots of joyful moments to share on the other side. Happy […]
Runes …
I almost miss the magic today. It’s cold — great gusts of wind tearing through the clouds, tossing the treetops. Even in my down parka, I’m shivering. But I go out anyway. I walk down to the woods. Tramp through the brush for an hour, trying to catch a little beauty through the viewfinder. But […]
A Backward Glance, in Black & White …
The New Year comes in cold: the air brittle and white. Empty. And perhaps it sounds strange, but for now, I like the emptiness, and I’m in no hurry to fill it. My friends rush back and forth announcing resolutions — buying sneakers and juicers and gym memberships. And hear me: those things are beautiful, too. This […]
The Body Electric: Day Twenty-Nine
We run in the dark: Just me and T, our feet slapping the wet pavement. We run through quiet streets still aglow with holiday lights. Bright orbs as big as pumpkins bob from the trees — a neighborhood tradition — and as they sway gently in the six-o’clock dark, their reflections shimmer in the puddles. And […]
ASHLEY WILSON FELLERS 