simplicity series - The Sunflower legend
simplicity Series - Lotus Legend
Simplicity Series - botanical
Simplicity series - Monarch butterflies
Patience and Time - PArt one
Patience and Time, Part one
Recently, the Patience and Time series found a new home with Lightning Tree Therapy and Dream Counseling in California, a practice devoted to supporting grief and loss through deeply integrative therapeutic work. Because these images, at their core, are about what healing often asks of us—an honoring of seasons. The willingness to sit with what feels frozen, trusting that beneath it, something is still moving. Still changing. Still alive.
What appears solid may soften. What feels hidden may reveal itself. And within that slow unfolding—there is growth, there is flow, there is a quiet kind of beauty. If we’re willing to pause long enough to see it.
Patience and Time, Part Two
Lighthouse - The DReam Beacon
Patience and Time - sky Alignment
This collection spans years of standing under New England skies, waiting for a moment of alignment—something that, most nights, never comes. Because here… the Northern Lights aren't seen unless everything aligns.
Rhode Island sits far south of where the aurora usually glows. To see it at all requires a rare convergence—solar storms strong enough to push the auroral oval south, skies clear enough to reveal it, and darkness deep enough to hold it. Even then, what appears is often subtle—a faint breath of color along the northern horizon.
And that’s only the beginning. Clouds move in at the last moment. The moon rises too bright. Scouting an area with a wide-open northern horizon. Tracking forecasts. Watching solar activity. Knowing that even when everything seems right, nothing is guaranteed. The aurora arrives in pulses—appearing, fading, sometimes lasting only minutes.
Alignment is fragile. And then—once in a while—everything holds.
Standing alone in a field, feeling the cold settle in, the stillness deepens —you begin to feel small, but present. The sky is no longer distant. It becomes something alive.
The sky opens. Greens rise. Reds spill through the darkness. Light begins to move—slow, fluid, like breath. In those moments, you feel both small and deeply connected to something vast.
Sometimes a shooting star crosses the frame—a fleeting moment layered on another.
These images are about that rare alignment—when earth, sun, sky, and time finally come together. And you can’t help but wonder… how many others are out there at that exact same moment, looking up, watching the same dance, making the same quiet wish.
The Leaning Tree
The Leaning Tree
In Winter's grasp, the tree stands tall,
Snow blankets, wind's fierce call.
Against the storm, it firmly clings,
Resilient 'neath nature's wings.
Spring unfolds, yet still it leans,
A testament to hands unseen.
Wet Autumn days, the ground gives way,
But still, it greets the light of day.
Near Summer sun, a sudden shock,
The tree is gone, the waters talk.
Speculation fills the air,
Of what befell the tree so fair.
Vanished like a fleeting dream,
In nature's grand and silent scheme.
