Skip to main content

February 2023 favorite photograph

 


Continuing with my favorites of 2023. This month I look at February. I somehow only took 6 shots, so the sample size is small, but the choice is still difficult.

Two of the six photographs were in black and white, and the others were in color. I took these photographs at O’Bannon Woods State Park on Saturday, February 4th, 2023.

The photo above was the one I chose for my favorite of the month. So why do I like this over the others? It simply made me feel the comfort I had in my mind of this place. I didn’t enter physically, but only in my mind.

The image evokes a sense of tranquility and wonder, capturing the beauty of a sun-drenched forest clearing. The blue sky and golden grass provide a sense of warmth and openness, while the dark woods and dappled sunlight add a touch of intrigue.

This morning the February wind bit like an icicle, whispering secrets through frosted pine branches. The sun shines through a blue sky, streaking with chemtrails left by recently passing airplanes. Before me stood a frost-crusted field. Undisturbed recently by man or beast. In the distance, a solitary barn stands. A small wispy ribbon of smoke rising from its chimney, a silent symphony against the wintery backdrop of the forest in the distance.

Like a secret, the barn nestles in the heart of the woods and emanates a comforting warmth. I can picture what might be inside: weathered logs glowing amber in the fading light, a plume of smoke carrying the scent of crackling wood and a promise of comfort. Inside, a fire roars, casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls, licking warmth into someone’s or some animal’s frozen bones.

This cabin is a refuge, a whispered respite from the world’s frigid grip. It’s a place where time slows, where breaths become visible like whispers in the frost, where silence paints landscapes in the cold’s stillness. A place for introspection, for peeling back the layers of the soul and letting the raw edges breathe in the crisp, pine-scented air.

I can imagine beneath the weight of a cold winter sky, worries lose their edge, replaced by the simple rhythm of fire and smoke. The outside world, with its hurried pace and endless demands, fades into the distance, replaced by the gentle symphony of nature.

This view and this image take my mind to a place of comfort. A place of warmth and relaxation. So, if you find yourself lost in the February chill, follow the smoke signals to the barn or cabin in the woods. Let the fire mend your spirit, let the silence speak to your soul, let the winter whisper its secrets in the wind. For in this sanctuary of wood and smoke, you might just find that February isn’t the enemy, but a gentle reminder that even in the coldest darkness, there is always a spark waiting to be kindled.

https://500px.com/p/timbindner/galleries/february-2023

Until next time,

Tim

 

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Leave

  I’m not okay. This week has been stressful. So much, in fact, I had to take a medical leave from Humana. It began today and will last through most of March. Though I am relieved somewhat, I still am fighting some of those internal demons that constantly haunt me. During my last visit with the doctor Erin, she knew immediately, without a word, that something was wrong. She noticed, and we discussed these stressors on several visits prior to my last one. It is not uncommon for me to face challenges and feel emotionally unsettled. I haven’t been okay for a while. Every morning, I am greeted with a racing heart and a wave of panic and anxiety as soon as I wake up. I feel as though my heart is a runaway train, racing uncontrollably and leaving me uncertain of its eventual destination. Whether it’s anxiety, fear, overwhelm, burnout, depression, ADHD, or simply the fast-paced world we live in today, my mind reached its breaking point. Overcoming and shaking off this feeling is like

Living with Unwanted Flashbacks

  We all have that dusty attic in our minds, where echoes of forgotten and moments of fleeting images gather. But for some of us, like me, that attic door swings open uninvited. Flooding my present with unwanted guests: flashbacks. These unwanted visitors aren’t here for tea and biscuits. Nor simply to say hello and wish me good will. They are here to replay scenes I desperately want to erase. ‘ I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember ’ is a statement that carries the weight of unspoken stories. A statement for me that shares stories of trauma, loss, fear, and pain disguised as fleeting sensations. Those vivid emotions and intrusive thoughts that flow uncontrollably into my brain. Often like a raging river, but other times like a dripping faucet. It can be the sudden smell of rain triggering a childhood storm, a car backfiring, echoing a violent argument or harsh criticism from a parent, or a familiar song transporting you back to a moment of heartbreak. Liv

End

I don't worry about the world ending.  It has ended for me many times and always started the next morning. Until next time  Tim