Dry Truth

The days twirl out like a leaf spiraling down - dry, dusty, sweet. The earth is still warm despite the cool of night and each morning renews the odors from the day before, crushed and lovely under feet. It is good to breathe all of this. For the eyes to gulp in the sun's beam. 

We've been laying up gems, treasures of the earth. If they last the winter, we will be happy. With food and clothing we will be content, because He never leaves nor forsakes us.

And then there are those afternoons now which are full-blown soft and sweet. Seeds scatter to the air, to the blue. In a few weeks, their downy wings will be wet and trampled underfoot, but for today they sail triumphant.

And that evening walk last week, when crisp winds straightened the field grasses, combing the landscape, letting her copper, stalky hair wave wild. 

"One reason I so deeply care for the camera is just this...handled cleanly and literally in its own terms, as an ice-cold, some ways limited, some ways more capable, eye, it is, like the phonograph record and like the scientific instruments and unlike any other leverage of art, incapable of recording anything but dry truth." (James Agee)