August 27, 2012

Out Of The Lake

Reluctantly we leave
—water dripping from
hands and chin, sand
coating our feet



51 comments:

  1. Love the serenity in this photograph, Emily.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lake Shetek, Minnesota. A favorite place.

      Delete
    2. Source of the Des Moines River.

      Delete
    3. Really? How have all these years passed without me knowing this? Thanks for that fact, David!

      Delete
  2. I love the notion of "reluctance". It has an almost mystical quality to it, a pure want, when want is somehow not possible or appropriate. The photo connected well to the words. Nice!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's a beautiful way to describe the word, Bill. I think I fully learned what it meant when I was in fifth grade, and I remember loving even the sound of it. It, and the end of summer, both have the air of the mystical about them, don't you think?

      Delete
    2. I imagine the end of summer in Minnesota is a monumental event. With the stout winters you have summer must seem pretty darned short. And, yes, I can imagine the reluctance one might have at the end of a Minnesota summer. Still, we anticipate winter with a little glee, don't we?

      Delete
    3. I suppose that's true! Especially after a winter like we just had...a few inches of snow at most, temperate weather... When that first blizzard comes, I will be out in it, pregnant or not! :)

      Delete
  3. Excellent, poetic tribute to the end of summer. Already I've seen trees with leaves that are blazing red. I want to shout, "Are you kidding? This is only August."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I know! We have a few trees like that around us, too. They are so beautiful, but turn slowly, turn slowly, dear friends!

      Delete
  4. i love this. reminds me that i need to write more poetry. such a nice end-of-summer-feeling.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I feel that way whenever I some how slow down enough to write it. A few words really are enough some times, aren't they?

      Delete
  5. Emily:

    Aaahhh... I know the feeling. I feel your knowing. How did you capture that with so few words?

    Richard

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I closed my eyes, and remembered being seven (and twelve and fifteen and twenty-six and thirty...). :)

      Delete
  6. Thank you for your comment on 'time for being' and for your kindness in stopping to leave a few words.

    I love the colours in the photograph and the beautiful simplicity and attention to detail in your words.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Marfio. This photograph captures a special place and time for me, so I feel that simplicity, too. Happy you stopped over!

      Delete
  7. Ah, the tender ache of saying goodbye to summer. Thanks for capturing it.

    ReplyDelete
  8. The quality of the light here is really lovely. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's an old-timey photo, actually. Film!

      Delete
  9. This is stunning! Wow, such amazing lighting!

    ReplyDelete
  10. The colors are amazing. Gorgeous picture!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Glad you like it. Thanks for stopping by and commenting, Kelly!

      Delete
  11. Replies
    1. All words that could be added to the verses above.

      Delete
  12. Poignant and peaceful. Your heart is in your photography. What a beautiful blog!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. What a nice comment. I think that is especially true when we photograph places that are a part of our past. You, too?

      Delete
  13. I would love to just pull up a chair, take a good book and a bottle of wine and just sit there for awhile, and maybe fall asleep.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sounds like a tempting activity for me this weekend! (minus the wine. :)

      Delete
  14. I would leave reluctantly too. That is a beautiful photograph and lovely poem to match it.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. For me, it's one of those photographs you can just look at for a while, letting the peace and quiet fill you up.

      Delete
  15. Your words apply so well in another context, too. I see your beautiful photo and feel the end of your summer, but here we have full summer yet, and the spectre of residents being pulled - reluctantly - from the homes that Hurricane Isaac has destroyed. They are dripping water, too, and coated with sand - even as the waters of the bayous roil against the levees that are their only fragile defense.

    But the poem works there, too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That adds an entirely new, heavier meaning to the verses, Linda, but I understand exactly why you would be pulled there. Such hardship for those bayous and water-logged elsewheres. Sending you blessings.

      Delete
  16. Replies
    1. Sometimes I think sunrise and sunset are magical, no matter where that type of light falls.

      Delete
  17. Wow, what a beautiful picture. God's country!!

    ReplyDelete
  18. Replies
    1. Thank you! Aren't lakes just wonderful?

      Delete
  19. Perfect. A perfect farewell to summer...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Beginnings and endings, all in one. Bittersweet.

      Delete
  20. I love lakes (we are staying on one here in Oregon)....and your sepia picture is remarkable. (I'm not ready to say goodbye to summer, but the beauty of this picture helps me get ready to adjust!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If only those of us in the north, at least, would never have to say a complete goodbye to summer... Hopefully photos like this will get us through the true below zeros. Hope you had a great weekend in Oregon, Sallie!

      Delete
  21. Beautiful Pic , and your words describes it perfectly.

    Thanks for stopping by and leaving the lovely comment.

    Glad to come over your space.

    Have a nice weekend. enjoy!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You as well, Vivek. Labor Day weekend was a pleasure, as always. So much to do, but also an extra day to find some time to relax and soak up the warm weather. Love that.

      Delete