Photographed by Susan Koster
For years they knew nothing of each other
Through the familiar gates
Provokingly they streamed in
They collected their thoughts
Images seared into the conscience
Locked in a reflection
A wave to the past
The border of time collapsed
A strap of sharing
Timeless landscape of events sheltered
The touches of Life
Nurtured spots under shaded trees
Flanked by passions and noble living
Old friendships rekindled
New friendships made
non sibi, Not for self
Echoed from the Elm Tree
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Eyjafjallajökull eruption, Iceland
A photographic essay.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXUytoaA-r8]
Photographed by Susan Koster
For years as I ascend the Soufriere Mountains on various hiking trips I would always stop and watch the Pan American World Airways (Pan Am) plane wreckage on the south side of the 3002ft mountain. On Friday 17 September 1965 Flight 292 crashed into the Soufriere Mountains while flying from Martinique en-route to New York via San Juan, killing all on board. It was reported that the sky was slightly overcast at the time of the crash. Seeing the footage from the scenes of this weekend’s crash in Poland reminded me about Pan Am crash in Montserrat. We are informed that Poland’s President Lech, Kaczynski plane crashed into trees in foggy weather as it approached the Smolensk airport. I remember hearing stories told to me about the Montserrat crash and now thinking about the differences of this recent disaster I know the former calamity is dwarfed in comparison on many fronts but there is one similarity for me and it is the fog.
Do you know that there is no difference between the fog and clouds other than altitude? Fog is defined as visible moisture that begins at a height lower than 50 feet. If the visible moisture begins at or above 50 feet, it is called a cloud. I know from my own experience while hiking that sometimes one can barely see your arms while walking in clouds. There are also moments of disorientation based on the speed of the walk. Furthermore there are also times when you are tricked into thinking that you actually reached the summit. So the task that Captain Grzegorz Pietruczuk (the pilot) was entrusted undoubtedly not an easy one.
Let us pray for the souls of the faithful departed and the many who mourn the passing of their love ones in these and other plane crashes.
Photographed by Susan Koster
The passion of your influence
The feel of beauty
The synthesis of your anonymity
Such a frightening intimacy
Your pink like flesh
Conjures images
From the markets of Europe
To the shores of the Caribbean Sea
Your sweet ripeness
Captures, electrify thee.
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Susan Koster
I’ve been to a few places that seem no different than places that I have been to before. On the other hand some places give me a feeling that causes me to instantly fall in love with that particular location. Some places make me wish that I could purchase it right away because it resembles ‘a piece of heaven on earth’. There is nothing more peaceful to me as hearing the waves beat against the rocks. The rough ocean, for me, allows me to meditate on beauty, humanity and the enduring power nature.
Recently I flew over an island, the waters were tranquil and the turquoise waters seemed to whisper to me. The entire northern part of the island has a very rugged coastline which the locals refer to as “da nort side.” It took Columbus three days to coast this 60 mile shore. I am surprised that he did not just anchor his boat and build a home there.
He could have raised a few sheep and could have been the first to taste another mouth watering delight that I experienced on this island – “ Long Island mutton.
Turquoise water
Hear its burst of energy nearby
The rich coral rock glistens
as I sit and hunt the ocean
my thoughts where beauty lies
suspended, mellow
-
Poem by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Susan Koster
With blazing clarity
His eyes, they take you somewhere
Wide awake dreaminess
Compelled to watch him
He created many roles
Reminiscent of Tharp Classics
He choreographed my part
In unorthodox venues
We dance
The composure
In Seasons
Our movement a language
-
Poem by Brenda L. McCartney
“I celebrate your becoming. I look forward to the rest of our lives with hope and marvel at the possibilities.” Happy Birthday Enrique!
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