You Can Sleep When the Day is Done

Sometimes in the midst of warmth and summer fun, we are reminded how fragile life is. When we lost Andy Griffith this week, I remembered the Dillard Song "There is a Time."  Fall comes and winter, too. And our loved ones go on to sleep. Maude, Don, Kathryn, Andy, James, Pearl, Beuford, Nora, Lucy, Teresa Shiflet, and many others. And others go on to wander when life is new for them.

Photo: James Wells by Billie Wells

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Play Misty for Me

When the storm hit the other night, we huddled together as it seemed the lightning was just outside our window crackling and crumbling the trees around us. In the heat and the storms, it's easy to forget that just as night slips into light, the mist and the morning are just giving us a peak into their inviting beauty.


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Waiting for You

Early morning always holds a special place in my heart. It's when the world is new and our dreams still linger in our minds. It's when anything is possible and joy and peace abound in our souls.

Here early morning is waiting for us to join and greet a new world of peace and possibility.

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Waiting for the Night

From the yellow house to the side porch, at night, there's a sense of longing and waiting. There's nothing like sitting on your porch at night, watching fireflies and feeling the darkness as if it were a being, an old friend, comforting and peaceful.

This one was taken a while and I had another picture in mind, but an overwhelming urge to put this one on took over. Tomorrow is the girl's 13th birthday and there's a sense of her waiting - impatiently and brooding.


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In the Valley of Love and Delight

Every morning as we got ready to go to school, I saw these two chairs and trees with a backyard that invited me in. I photographed it at different times of the morning to get the light right. Whenever I saw the two chairs beckoning me, I was transcended. To what I don't know. Maybe it's that lingering memory of my grandparents, born in 1902 and 1903, both sitting in their backyard together, he in is railroad overalls and her in a housedress and straw hat. They sat in lawn chairs together.

The story is that my grandfather was one of nine children who lived way out in Franklin and one day he laid down his hoe and started walking to Detroit. To join all the boys who migrated to make cars when cars were new. But he couldn't stay away. One day when back home he saw my grandmother, a woman with big bushy hair. He fell for her and eventually took her back with him to Detroit. My mother was born there but not long after they settled back home, in Asheville on Salola Street where they lived for 50 years.

These two chairs carry me back to a memory of a backyard where I saw my grandparents evening after evening for many years.

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