Adventures in longer time

A camera makes it possible to see a moment, and not just the seconds as they happen. I have recently bought a proper tripod and filter for my camera, and now that we are living in the Dolomites (Did I mention we moved to the Alto Dolomites for the summer?) I have so many beautiful waterfalls to make images of.

These ones show the difference between 1/25 of a second and 2.5 seconds.

IMG_4444IMG_4441

Down the mountain from there, after a huge hike that climbed 730m, we found this waterfall as a beautiful oasis on the way down the mountain. This was at the 16th of 18 kilometers, and sorely needed because we were so sore. Another 2.5 second exposure capturing how water moves if you don’t.

IMG_4484-Edit-Edit-2

Finally, a giant photo panorama with a lake. If time is longer, the water becomes like a polished glass surface and the colours extend. I like to look at this photo as a glimpse into the longer, nonhuman time of nature and the mountains.

IMG_4451-Pano

More long exposure time, please!

A Spring From the Winter that never Came

British Daffodils

British Daffodils

I know that it’s nearly been a year since I first set foot in England, because the daffodils are here again. Last year they were late because the winter had been so cold and harsh. This year they are early, because winter simply never arrived. One year ago next month, I set foot in England for the first time (the time before flying through Heathrow before doesn’t count). In one week, it will have been six months since I moved here. These daffodils will be fully open by then.

They'll open soon.

They’ll open soon.

Spring is practically here!

EDIT: And here they are!!!

The Last Collected Season

The last in the collection.

The last in the collection from Korea-December 2012

 

I have a habit of taking photos out the window of my room, wherever I live, to capture the passage of time and the changing of circumstances. This first began when I studied abroad for the first time in Perugia, Italia in the summer of 2007. Almost every day, I took a photo out my window toward the church in the parking lot below. Time passed so slowly and so quickly then, and five weeks melted before I could truly register what had happened.

Perugia, Italia.

Perugia, Italia-May 2007

When I lived in Ferrara, the dawn woke me with a brilliant omen on my very first morning.

First sunrise in my homestay in Ferrara, January 2009

First sunrise in my homestay in Ferrara, January 2009

In Puerto Natales, I watched the Patagonian skies warp and change by the minute. Time seemed a different animal there, unfettered by our petty attempts at clocks and schedules.

Chorrillos, Puerto Natales

Chorrillos, Puerto Natales-2011

I’ve collected every season here in Korea. It’s the first time for the same place for a full year, the same job, the same apartment…since I moved into my dormitory for my first year of university in August 2006. I’ve been on the road in one form or another for over six years. It’s strange and oddly beautiful that I’ve seen that little tree change from a single springtime blossom, to green and verdant summer, to burning fall, and finally silent winter.

The fogginess of 2013 has already invaded my life here at the end of 2012, with everything seeming to suddenly lift up off the ground and fly around in a storm of unstable circumstance and confused importance. Nearly nothing is certain. I was a bit naive in recent weeks, pretending to have a plan and a set idea of what would happen in the future. I must train myself to give that up.

Once again, I have no idea where I will be in six months, much less twelve.

I can’t decide if that feels liberating or like I’m being cornered. At times it seems both. Time doesn’t really care for my tiny confusions and my vacillation between alternative futures. It plays its longer game. One day a year from now, I’ll looks around and take a photo out my window, marveling at how long and short it’s been. It will all change, and yet nothing will.