Fish Shacks at Willard Beach South Portland, Maine

 

It was cold. Below zero with a fierce wind blowing the sea smoke out to sea.Thermal underwear. Down jackets (notice the plural). Snow overalls. Impeccable boots. Heavy insulated socks. Rechargeable hand warmers set on high in the pockets of my third jacket layer. Neck Gator. Hat. Check.

But epic fail of forgetting the thin gloves I use in combination with the pocket warmers to get through a morning like this.

It's not that I didn't know what to expect.

By the time I tried to frame a few images the bitter cold was no longer cold. It was pain. Sheer pain pounding up to my wrists.

The other photographer out there at the same time attempting to be friendly? I apologize. I was in such pain I could no longer see. I could no longer think. I didn't have the bandwith to even be kind. I needed to get to my car asap.

The lesson. Pain evaporated my ability to see. Evaporated my ability to respond to kindness.

I raced to the car best I could and cried and cried and cried waiting for the pain to subside. Which it did.

And I am left with this lesson.

 

Love at first sight. Love at first light.

 

Today is a cold and grey January day filled with freezing rain but for a moment this morning the sky was enormously beautiful. Generously beautiful. So beautiful. And deeply humbling and all I could think is how, how could I do to give back? This was an enormous gift and how can I possibly give back to this degree? To those that much is given, much will be asked.

 

Years ago I officiated a funeral for a young woman who died of a fatal overdose...

 
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Years ago I officiated a funeral for a young woman who died of a fatal overdose. Her daughter, a teenager at the time had told me in a meeting 'I want my mom's funeral to be something to remember.'
The family handed flower seeds to all who attended that service, seeds carefully wrapped in paper origami flowers they had made. I'll never forget their attention to that detail. Them sitting together. Folding that paper. Tucking in perennial seeds.
After the service on a cold, windy day in early spring I planted those seeds.
Each year they return in my garden. Stronger and healthier and more beautiful than the previous season.
I am comforted by her company though I never knew her. To the daughter of this woman: your mom's funeral was unforgettable to me.