Standing alone in the wet woods at twilight.
A string of porcelain disc insulators lies beneath a rusted tower, nearly buried in years of oak leaf litter.
A formerly high adventure, now tangled in the underbrush.
Cutting to the core, still green at heart.
April snowmelt slides silently over the dam at Shelburne Falls, MA and shreds into a twisting contortion of boiling power over the glacial potholes below.
Parked trackside on a spring afternoon.
Driving through scenic Pittsfield, MA recently. The weather didn’t help.
A long-forgotten pile of concrete blocks is bound to the forest floor with thick ropes of bittersweet.