The trickiest of calls.
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@rachelpunturiero
The trickiest of calls.
Alone /surrounded.
On seas of big-grey clouds.
Autumn winds.
O’er yellow vales and hills.
"Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.”
~ W. Shakespeare
The waters.
. . . and you can see it in her eyes.
Honey & Wildfire
“Just because you are soft doesn’t mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the colour gold."
~ Victoria Erickson
The three of us took an afternoon drive down a seemingly endless, vine-lined road towards the east coast. The shifting light lead us down a rutted bank to sun dried grasses rustling in a stiff, warm breeze.
I had a lot of ideas about what I wanted to photograph but no real landing place. There were expressions I hadn’t captured before, gestures I hadn’t recorded, and stories I had never told. It was time.
Michelle and Marie made it easy. Each possessed a charm, presence and strength contagious and palpably golden. They were honey and wildfire incarnate and became the faces, legs and windblown hair narrating the language of ’Swim’.
I will rise.
Season of mists.
Sunken Wakas
My fascination of the Marlborough Sounds reached new heights in Autumn. To keep this part of the story short, I should tell you I worked and lived in the Queen Charlotte Sound and spent many afternoons hiking nearby lookouts and exploring quiet bays. But the surreality of being on top of clouds covering the sea-drowned valleys of three Sounds at sunrise was like none other. The way you see more when the view is shrouded, are grateful for steep, wooded hills, for mythical sunken wakas, for a friend to share it all with, and for being up-wind to the roar of frisky stags. When the mist is high there, you find a silence, you reach a height.
Bare skin in sunshine.
The turning of a leaf.
Sun tales.
Seek and find all the barriers.