Last Light,Fading through black pine,Falls on bamboo.Back home in Portland and the Fall has drifted over the Northwest while I was away - the colors have not shifted, but the season has. Light is low, and warm, and gentle. There is no rush to it's traverse.
Once in a great while I happen into a place where I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of something that has gone before me. I feel the Light as if seen before. The Light whispers. And I just raise the camera and do as my soul tells me and in turn is being told - This is not the time to think, analyze, contemplate. This is the time to do as the Light inspires my soul.
