The first days of spring always remind me of the years I spent racing bicycles. Living in the northeast, most of my winter training took place in the basement. Cold, dark, and unquestionably lonely. But come March, regardless of whether spring was early and the temperatures warmed, or winter clung, keeping snow on the roads, I would join my training partners outdoors to begin putting in the real miles.Read More
My eyes close and a sense of weightlessness washes over me. In an instant, I'm carried upward by the breeze, into the atmosphere, swirling about the wispy clouds. I navigate with my thoughts, moving over the buildings and treetops, free from gravity and inertia. I try to hold onto the feeling, but as my grasp tightens, my eyes open again.
Flipping back through the archives of my photographs, I came across this one from the summer of 2012. We were driving back from a late-season vacation, passing through the little towns of New York's southern tier region, when a sudden craving for ice cream descended upon us. We slowed the car along Main Street and found a parking spot just outside the local sweet shop. With cones in hand, we walked along a dusty path to this magical little waterfall. There, cascading for all to see, but hidden in shadows.
If I listen carefully, I can actually hear the sound of the snow melting. Drip. Drip. Drip. Underneath the trees, with their shadows cast so boldly on the blanket of white snow, the earth is beginning to show itself again. For now, in just little pieces here and there.