This is it. Our last spring in Maryland.
Jane and I are moving to Boston at the end of June. With that move comes the end of many things: the end of eight years of living, growing up, photographing, and exploring in the Mid-Atlantic. The end of this page of the blog (at least for now). I won’t lie - it’s been a strange few months. I wish I could have done more, made more memories, said goodbye to a few more familiar places. But goodbyes have a way of sneaking up on you, even when you see them coming from light-years away. This one is no exception.
Unexpectedly, I spent the past month away from Jane, and away from our home, in order to self-isolate while working a nursing facility during the COVID pandemic. “Long-distance” again. Lots of quiet nights spent thinking, writing, and reflecting. I emerged from that motel room with a pile of new poems, and a renewed appreciation for what the word “home” means - and what we owe a place when we call it home. In a way, it made for a fitting end to my years of training in Baltimore - a touching bit of symmetry.
The pandemic, however, did not stop me from taking photographs. On the weekends, cloth face mask in tow (sewn by Jane from dress pants that I, uh… outgrew), I managed to spend some precious afternoons walking around my favorite park in the world. Spring this year was just as beautiful as every other year - maybe even more so. The vibrant procession of colors; the radiant flower crowns over the pagoda and the park house; the fine textures of bud and leaf and bark - they’re still here. And I will miss them.
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This won’t be the last post on the Mid-Atlantic blog. I’m in the process of preparing a final video, assembled from eight years of footage throughout Maryland and across the Chesapeake region. That will be the last. For now, I’ll end with a pair of poems from my upcoming collection, Leaving: Poems of the Chesapeake, which I think complements these photographs well. I will leave a link below once the book is available to order online.
Something Begins
On the lawn, the cherry trees will be in blossom
and the wind, warm with pollen, will ripple
across the koi pond in the courtyard.
From the tower, the sails will flutter like banners
to the west, they’ll shimmer, filling the harbor.
And in a quiet place – it could be this room, or another –
a dying boy will sleep, surrounded by love,
his lips dabbed with chocolate milk by his mother.
Something ends. Another begins.
Loop in Patterson Park
English oak, fountain rest
pagoda wears magnolia dress
cherry petals, hilltop breeze
daffodils by budding trees
henbits, nettles, playground carpet
creeping speedwell, azure pockets
ducks return, the green-winged teal
soccer cones set in the field
lonely willow, sakura tree
the smaller dog, the worse the greed
shade-lined path runs past the pool
morning bells, church by the school
back uphill, the steepest way
the skyline takes your breath away
