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I Forgive You The weight of the obelisk was a constant pressure on her roots. In some places, they even had to re-route. But she was flexible. The obelisk never seemed to notice. It sat in stony silence, except on Sundays and sometimes Wednesday evenings. If it knew or cared that its presence weighed on her so, it never let on. She was sorry for the obelisk. So rigid, so sameness of same. It couldn't move, couldn't flow with the natural order of seasonal things. It simply...sat. Finally, after yet another failed attempt to strike up an autumn day, puffy cloud conversation, she brushed oh-so-gently against the obelisk's brusk, cobbled shell... and whispered "I forgive you." ©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
Here They Come t seemed no matter how fast she ran, they were faster. One day, she decided to stop and face them... to find out once and for all: friend or foe?
Forest For The Trees Being able to see the forest for the trees Is the biggest gift of all. See the forest.
Over the Moon For You And I am, too.
Back To My RootsYosemite Valley, CA Wandering around this riverbed in Yosemite Valley, I found that I just wasn't makin' the magic with the grand sceneries. Everything of mine from that department; returned. Besides, my attention kept being drawn to the battle-worn details at my feet. This tree stopped me in my tracks. So many little movies started playing. I thought of all the stories that could be told with this simple image. But it also took me back to my own roots. Photography-wise, that's black and white. Deep. Rich. Thoughtful. Respectful. Revealing. Unapologetic. Wise. Black. And white. ©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
Swords Heavenward!... or Emperor Penguins. Nature makes the most gorgeous lines, doesn't she? I marvel at her imagination. Sometimes I see grand gestures; like here, a rousing "Swords to the heavens!" battle-cry. In this case, I also see emperor penguins. I think nature has a sense of humor. ©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
Big Dune In Monochrome Amargosa Valley, Nevada ©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
I Stay... I Go My Dearest, For all the loveliness of Here, there is ever and always something drawing me There. It is simply who I am. Love, Me ©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)

I Forgive You



The weight of the obelisk was a constant pressure on her roots. In some places, they even had to re-route. But she was flexible. The obelisk never seemed to notice. It sat in stony silence, except on Sundays and sometimes Wednesday evenings. If it knew or cared that its presence weighed on her so, it never let on.

She was sorry for the obelisk. So rigid, so sameness of same. It couldn't move, couldn't flow with the natural order of seasonal things. It simply...sat.

Finally, after yet another failed attempt to strike up an autumn day, puffy cloud conversation, she brushed oh-so-gently against the obelisk's brusk, cobbled shell... and whispered "I forgive you."



©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
I Forgive You The weight of the obelisk was a constant pressure on her roots. In some places, they even had to re-route. But she was flexible. The obelisk never seemed to notice. It sat in stony silence, except on Sundays and sometimes Wednesday evenings. If it knew or cared that its presence weighed on her so, it never let on. She was sorry for the obelisk. So rigid, so sameness of same. It couldn't move, couldn't flow with the natural order of seasonal things. It simply...sat. Finally, after yet another failed attempt to strike up an autumn day, puffy cloud conversation, she brushed oh-so-gently against the obelisk's brusk, cobbled shell... and whispered "I forgive you." ©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)

I Forgive You



The weight of the obelisk was a constant pressure on her roots. In some places, they even had to re-route. But she was flexible. The obelisk never seemed to notice. It sat in stony silence, except on Sundays and sometimes Wednesday evenings. If it knew or cared that its presence weighed on her so, it never let on.

She was sorry for the obelisk. So rigid, so sameness of same. It couldn't move, couldn't flow with the natural order of seasonal things. It simply...sat.

Finally, after yet another failed attempt to strike up an autumn day, puffy cloud conversation, she brushed oh-so-gently against the obelisk's brusk, cobbled shell... and whispered "I forgive you."



©Karen Hutton - Creative Commons (CC BY-NC 3.0)
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