and then there was bread.

three days of flour and fermenting and water and salt. and rest and warmth and stirring then kneading. and reading and hoping and baking. portuguese mountain rye, a success. that smell! that taste! it's bread!

into the fog.

the mist is heavy and thick. it surrounds and i enjoy a disorienting moment of solitude. then someone emerges, a car drives by and i remember it's still this place, but in close up. moving through the fog, a patch of sunshine, oh it feels so good!, then back into the damp... so much mystery, so sensory.

cast back.

came across this photo in an album from last winter... a film photograph. thought back to winter time on the ferry, any time on the ferry. those are beautiful moments. the salt sea air. the white ship moving through the strait. time to look. time to be. and often a time to snap. countless photographs i have, of reflection in ferry window. it's a subject that i always come back to. the reflectivity of those windows, always conducive to an interesting frame. and the blue. always blueness. deep breath.

peering into the sunshine.

january 2. feet crunching in this white stuff that is so unfamiliar to us... a rare day in amongst 3 weeks of grey snowy skies... a welcome break. an opportunity to bask in this beauty. henning standing on the edge. arm up, shielding eyes, squinting into the sun-basked, white-glistening expanse of trout lake... all this in the city.