A thousand words
The power of photography to encompass a thing sometimes takes my breath away. I do nature photographer primarily, but occasionally I capture a portrait that blinks back at me, breathes, smiles, walks away and lives its life. Sometimes I capture a picture of a person untouched by illness, radiant in health and purpose and joy. Mother, grandmother, student of life. Gifted, intelligent, curious, unbowed. Frank, devoted, tough, unselfish to a fault. Gardener, rock hound, babysitter, nurse’s aide. Poet, news junkie, car nut. Budding photographer in her own right. Daughter, sister, and widowed wife. Dreamer, wisher, child of God. Fastidious about her appearance, she was never really happy with my stringy hair. But she was always proud of me, fiercely. A staunch enabler of my dreams. She wanted the world for me, with no boundaries nor fences. Until cancer overtook her ability even to sit for her beloved roadtrips, she rode shotgun beside me on many a photo safari. For this photograph, I have more than a thousand words. This is my mother, Carol Cummings, May 19, 1937 to April 21, 2016.
Copyright 2016 RC