Like most things in life, water is good in moderation; beautiful when contained.
Liquid sustainment that is necessary for life itself.
On this August morning in Louisiana my weather app reads 92 degrees with 88% humidity at 8 a.m.
This would be why I’m not a fan of the South in the summer. This would be why I avoid being out in the elements at this time of year. This would be why air-conditioning is my friend and why I wasn’t looking forward to being outside for even one photo session.
However, I had a relative who was giving birth a few days ago and all through that day, as I was praying for her and thinking about her, images of water kept playing through my mind. Although it’s been 28 years since I last experienced it, I still very vividly remember the power I felt when my water broke and the process started, that rushing of the water.
Which turned my thoughts to a local dam I found by accident the last time I lived here, so I went out in search of it, remembering the rush of water flowing through it’s man-made barriers in an attempt to harness and control that particular element.
The search did not disappoint.
My memory also served me well in knowing this was a place often frequented by people with spray paint in hand and although graffiti has little to do with the elements, my camera also turned to the evidence of themselves they’ve chosen to leave behind. I suspect visiting this place might be a sort of rite of passage to high schoolers in the area. Perhaps that, in itself, is a sort of elemental pull to this place.
This entire photo shoot took all of 15 minutes and I was soaked with sweat by the time I was finished. Yep, I’m not a fan of experiencing the elements in the summer in Louisiana.
Headed up to South Dakota in a few days….highs in the 70’s and lows in the 50’s.
Places with those kind of temperatures in August are my new happy place.
This is going to be short and quick ’cause “hey, hey, it’s my birthday” and I have places to be!
One of my favorite childhood memories is the days when we would have big family picnics at French Park in Cincinnati, Ohio and our parents would turn all the cousins loose in the woods to hike the trails and explore the creek.
It was a simpler time, they weren’t worried about us nor about clowns lurking in the woods. And there was strength in numbers as the family was large and the pack of cousins around me was constant.
Hours were spent digging for fossils in the mud and overturning rocks, looking for the crawdads that hid beneath them. Cincinnati heat can be oppressive in the summer so the cool water running over our feet was glorious.
Every single time I see a creek it evokes a feeling of carefree happiness.
And nothing compares to the melodious sound of water gurgling over rocks.
And look who I have as my buddy when I’m walking the woods alone!