weekly photography challenge | Mama Cormier

….thanks to Fandango for hosting FOWC

Since January I’ve experienced the death of 7 friends and family members. It’s only April and more people that I know have passed in the last three months than I’ve experienced in the last 10 years. Is that natural? Probably.

Is it natural to feel sorrow or surprise when you haven’t had contact with people for over 20 years and then find out that they’ve passed? Probably.

Is it natural to take pleasure from fond memories of people recently deceased? Probably.

People say that we’re at that age when this will happen more often. I suppose that is probably true but I’d rather not think about it. I still think of myself as being only in my 30s or 40s. Is that natural? Well for me it is.

As I look around I see beauty in the most unusual places, especially in nature. I love the look of dried leaves and isolated berries. For many it signifies ‘death’ but it’s just the natural part of the circle of life. I suppose it signifies that new growth or rebirth will soon happen.

Signs that new life is about to rise up:

…thanks to Snow from The Snow Melts Somewhere for hosting Friendly Friday

My photo walk takes place on Sunday. Friday and Saturday were exceptionally busy and I didn’t get out for my long walk. Today I made sure to get out before noon.

I left my house and walked toward the park that edges onto the lake.

I continued along Lakeshore Drive and turned onto 4th St. which ends in a dead end but the property on the east side is abandoned so I walked toward the lake again.

I noticed that a large flock of swans were swimming together at the foot of Prince of Wales Park so I continued east.

After taking a dozen or more photos I decided to continue on my walk along the shores of Lake Ontario before the swans decided they had enough of this intruder with her iPhone camera. You can see from one of the following photos that there’s still a little bit of ice hanging onto the shoreline.

As I left the park I continued through the neighbourhood until I reached a tiny parkette on Sand Beach Road.