Years ago I attended a photography workshop with a marvelous instructor, internationally-acclaimed nature photographer Freeman Patterson. Freeman was gentle and patient. He made complex matters simple. He suggested that we needn’t travel the world to shoot good photos. He suggested that we choose a tree, a place, a river, a hill, a flower, whatever appealed to us and shoot it in the morning, afternoon, evening, in summer, fall, spring, and winter.

I used to travel every year to different locations around this country for photo workshops. I won’t fly any more, and I cannot lug the equipment (I still use my manual Pentax 1000 camera and lenses) and standing for long periods causes my back to ache. So, I focus on a wide, fairly smooth portion of a river close by, and I shoot reflections. The mood of the river changes, as well as the colors, the reflected plant material, the light. I take a folding chair and sit in the shade on the bank and wait for the light to change, for a leaf to float by. Once, I watched a snake sun itself on a rock protruding from the water. I like the photo I have chosen today. I like its softness, its quiet sense of mystery. I hope you like it as well as I do.

July was hot, but I would hold onto it forever, just to hold onto summer. When I was young and first came to the US from the Virgin Islands, no one talked about layering. No one explained that I needed to keep my legs and my chest warm. I froze. I was in my forties and in Massachusetts one March with my daughter, Polly, who explained layering to me. It was a miracle. I could stay warm. Now, a day doesn’t go by in winter when I don’t thank Polly, as I slip another tee shirt over my undershirt and button up a warm, flannel shirt before putting on a thermal jacket. You got it! Raised in the tropics, we hot house flowers never quite get used to winter.

My grandfather and his five brothers migrated from Europe in the late 1800s to the Virgin Islands. That they landed there, and not in New York or Savannah, was an accident. The first ancestor was so ill on the ship that he disembarked in St. Thomas (a refueling port) and stayed. But five entrepreneurial brothers on one small island? So, four of them migrated to the Dominican Republic. I tell you this because the other evening, a cousin, born and raised in the tiny village of Samana, introduced me to his cousin, born and raised in Porta Plata in the Dominican Republic (and his wonderful family). I felt instantly taken into the bosom of family. I’d forgotten what that was like, and though they were visiting, they left me basking in the glow of belonging again.

Recently I visited Jackson’s Japanese Gardens and photographed lotus blossoms. There are several huge lotus ponds and a garden devoted to Bonsai. Mr. Jackson. graciously welcomes visitors and photographers to his gorgeous gardens, located on 19E the road to Burnsville, NC.

The Garter Girls, six Ohio ladies, childhood friends, and now fans of the Covington series, sent this wonderful photo of their fan club. Thanks Ladies.