Tag Archives: winter

returning to simple pleasures

an old farmhouse and trees in the winter with a backdrop of newer farming techniques in the distance

an old farmhouse and trees in the winter with a backdrop of newer farming techniques in the distance

it has been a while since i posted here, not for want of posting, nor of creating, but for lapses of focus and the need for other things. life is an interesting conundrum at times, but this has been the one hiatus, of all of them, during which my mind was ever here, and ever fixed upon these images i have planned to renew, relive, and to eventually publish.

there is not much to this image that the caption does not reveal. i avoided working with this set of photos for years due to the power lines and the hassle they represent for photo editing. but upon reconsideration, i’ve decided that i like the mix of old and new…at least in this one. now, those power lines really are no more intrusive to me than the round bales in the background that belie the current state of things. they compliment the age of the structure and the warp of its roof from years of neglect and piles of drifted snow, at least in my mind.

it might just be an excuse; regardless, due to the low-contrast light at the time this scene was captured, i settled for the minor triumph of extracting the colouration that i did.

it begins to snow this evening, as i work within these old images of even older things. i’ve held a fondness, and respect, for the snow, even from a youth which was nearly devoid of it. to me, the snow is at once a cleansing blanket of ephemeral purity and the harbinger of that slow but temporary death which eventually gives birth to the springtime: that transient life we hold and cherish and revel within, at least until it rushes away again, beneath the next year’s snow.

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solace, twain

solace, twain © 2014 Jered Dawnne

solace, twain © 2014 Jered Dawnne

i didn’t know, when i first saw these trees, how much they would stick with me. this original photograph is from 2006, about two-and-a-half years after i’d moved to the property this photograph was shot from. i didn’t actually risk the trespassing to shoot these trees from several angles until we sold that house another two years later. so before i left, i made one final trip around the area and saw the thing i was already pretty sure i knew—a thing i suspected, but couldn’t really see from our property: the two trees do not actually entwine above the ground. i’m sure their roots are all wrapped within each other, but above the surface of the earth, both trees are independent, though obviously complementary.

i managed to recover the raw image from a drive i thought was dead last night and was very pleased to rediscover this particular image. when i shot this, these trees were still an “it” (a double tree) to me. retouching it last night, i could only think of it as “them” (two separate trees), despite knowing they are fundamentally entwined beneath the ground. with some minor manipulation, i was finally able to bring out what should have been more than a suspicion to me at the time. the specific direction of the wind that morning caused the rime to build only on the north-most tree.

for the time that i lived there, these trees meant a lot of different things to me, but in these latter days, it has come to represent living here in a generally simplistic sense. i’m fairly well engrained within the community, but i very much stand alone. the challenge, and the joy, are the various collaborations within our differences, the strength we draw from one another, and the way we shape the wind.

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