A journal by Lisa.

A New Place
golden grasses in a field

Moving home from one place to another requires adjustment in various ways. The rhythm of life changes; where once my feet remembered a particular well-worn path, now a new one must be learned. Even the air smells different. The sounds, the people, the buildings around are not the same as those I have grown used to seeing for some time. It is not a sad feeling, for change is a part of life.

Although it has been months since I managed to bring my camera outside for a walk, the weight of the body and lens feel comfortable and familiar in my hands. The sun feels warm on my skin, this uncommonly warm February afternoon when the recent winter days have been so frigid. Snow powdered everything white just the other evening, but no trace of it remains. A hawk wheels and calls overhead. The plants are quietly budding, and some are just beginning to blossom.

dry leaf in hand
spiky plant
me in the sun
fuzzy cattail
little light purple blossoms in the grass
hawk against blue sky
dry leaves on tree