Tag Archives: photography

we create to celebrate

December 31, 2015 Nan Lundeen

full moon over Yellowstone shot by Ron DeKett in 2015

Dear MooingAround family,

This New Year’s Eve I second-guessed myself about writing to you. I immediately thought, “Why should I write something? Who cares what I think on New Year’s Eve or any time? Isn’t it egotistical to think I have something to say?”

But is this the plight of all creative people—writers, parents, painters, farmers, caregivers, musicians, business folk—all of us here together on this small planet? We are insignificant and our work is insignificant, but at the same time, we are important and our work is important. It’s one of the great paradoxes. We liken individuals to grains of sand on the shore, yet each of us is unique and together we can build magnificent beaches—resting places for the soul and peaceful spots for storms of emotion, even fear and doubt that batter our sands, and also love and joy and hope that burn in our hearts.

Did you see the full moon on Christmas night? My husband, Ron DeKett, and I saw it rising orange and magnificent over the pine trees at our daughter’s subdivision in southwestern Michigan when we were going out to our car after a day of feasting and present-opening. We knocked on their living room window to invite our daughter, Jennifer, and five-year-old grandson, Eli, to come out and see the moon. The next time a full moon graces Christmas night, Eli will be age twenty-five. It was splendid when I first noticed it, but became even more beautiful when Ron’s eyes fell upon it, and we shared it with our family, just as he is sharing this spectacular shot of a full moon gleaming upon Yellowstone on his trip there last October.

Creative pursuits are like that—splendid when we are going about them alone, and when we share them, they become all the more meaningful.

May you all enjoy a blessed new year.

Nan

www.nanlundeen.com

nan lundeen, staff's contributions

a secret to good writing

September 2, 2013 Nan Lundeen

If you want to be inspired on a daily basis, marry a photographer, or at least hang out with one. You’ll get lots of practice truly observing what’s in front of you (and behind you and all around you). Because that’s what photographers do. And hanging out with a photographer provides plenty of time for contemplation (while they are sliding down into a bog to shoot a lovely little green snake and you are sitting on a footbridge, or they are setting up a tripod to shoot Joe Pye Weed and then waiting, waiting, waiting for a lull in the breeze so the photo will be in focus, or they are standing by Lake Placid at Greenville’s beautiful Paris Mountain State Park while you count the ducks). I hope you enjoy Ron DeKett’s photo of a yellow swallowtail and my poem, born of contemplating time, “Dance of the Swallowtails.” Please register on our site if you haven’t already and comment—when do you find contemplation time? Happy writing!

dance of the swallowtails

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for Ron

August 26, 2012

You stand on Lake Placid’s shore

viewfinder framing

clear water revealing

fish just hanging out,

four ducks sailing into what was nothing like

a South Carolina August afternoon

because the sun kisses gentle

while breeze lays ripples on wet

like your fingers ruffling my hair at night

when we’re falling asleep;

viewfinder framing

swallowtails—yellow wings flirting with currents,

they dance

circle

bob

tack

do-si-do

to a sound I am sure

means

peace.

…Nan Lundeen

nan lundeen, staff's contributions

poetry in the park

August 2, 2013 Nan Lundeen 1 Comment

Middle Tyger Library, Lyman, SC, by Ron DeKett

Here are the promised poems created by extraordinary ordinary people during the Poetry in the Park class I led in July at the Middle Tyger Library in Lyman, SC. Participant Marjorie Garrett wrote after the class, “I was quite impressed with what each person managed to write in such a short time.” I agree, Marjorie! After I told my husband, Ron DeKett, about the poems, he photographed some scenes in the park, which I’ve included with the poems. Click on the link after each poet’s name to read wonderful, spur-of-the-moment creations. Marjorie Garrett, “Whitewater by the Mill,” M.M. Griffin, “River Watching,” Mary Ellen Lives, “The Sign Says,” K.G. McAbee, “Dam,” and Chris Thackston, “Odd Number.” Please register with MooingAround.com at the top of the home page and comment, if you like. We promise not to share your email addresses. Thank you to all who already have registered. You are helping us build a creative community.

the sign says

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by mary ellen lives

Playing in or around

The river

Is strongly

Discouraged

It is not forbidden

It is not illegal

You will not be punished

The sign is not my mother

Spreading guilt

Like overflowing water

Brown with silt

It is not my father

A boulder

Beneath the white water

Chastising

The sign is calm

The sign is quiet

And only

Slightly

Discouraging

dam

by k.g. mcabee

Back in the day

The mills dammed the rivers,

Damning them to stone cages,

Funneling their freedom

Into bolts of cotton and linen and denim.

Now we free the rivers

From their rocky chains.

But are they happier?

Or do they miss

Their occupation, clothing the world,

Hiding its nakedness

Under the colors of the stars:

Red giant, blue dwarf, black hole?

river watching

1 Comment

by m.m. griffin

I hear cackles from earlier generations

and echoes of past conversations

in the water’s thucks and bubbles.

The voices are wet branches against the sky.

I see images of vaguely familiar faces

and distant places in the foamy water

crashing over rocks and swirling

in the river’s spiral.

I want to wade in the shallow water

and revel in the current’s resistance,

but there is not enough time.

I watch a man toss his rod into brown water.

After three attempts, he catches a small fish.

I try to remember something unseen

and wonder how far the river flows.

I want to stay and play for a while,

but I must go.

whitewater by the mill

1 Comment

by marjorie garrett

: Rock in the Park by Ron DeKett

That would be a fierce hydraulic

if you took it in a kayak.

I wouldn’t recommend it.

If you do, your judgment’s slack.

You will end up on a gurney

with a spine board on your back.

It will be a lonesome journey

to the rehab place and back.

summer solstice tree

4 Comments

Solstice Tree by Ron DeKett — Solstice Tree
Photo by Ron DeKett

Summer Solstice Tree

Saluda, North Carolina

by: Nan Lundeen

On Summer Solstice
this Blue Ridge
Mountain
stream
the tumbling
Pacolet
turns white
draped
over Pearson’s Falls,
turns dark
wending between
boulders

rolls under
leaved
limbs

past turtles
orange jewelweed
plantain leaf sedge
hydrangea white and wild
scent of mint

skirts sand
bearing
bobcat prints
black bear
scat
roasting

thrums
his jazz tune
ever improv
whoosh-slap-lap

nudges
a block
of mossy rock
set in by a childlike
God
one day.

Bravely
holding
itself above the fray
a tiny tree
rises
from
the middle of the block

rooted
in such a precarious
spot
eternal
in the now
having chosen
sun.

Mooing Around