Sunlight throws long tree shadows across a curving garden path.
Clouds close over the old barn as the sun slips under them. What is all this tumult and toil worth if we cannot be still enough to watch the sun set?A red barn and silo stand under a heavy sky as the sunset breaks through.
Green lamps glow down the length of Bates Hall, its coffered vault arching overhead.
A stone lion stares out in black and white, its mane carved in deep folds.A blue glass tower leans against the sky, seen from its foot.
Morning sun breaks through the branches of a spring garden.
To all my friends... a drink, glows in blue neon above the red DEAD AUTHORS CLUB.A gas lamp flickers at the entrance to a narrow, ivy-lined alley.
An empty fairground waits under a gray sky, a red shed and a windmill at its edge.
A church spire rises in the reflection of a glass office tower.Dew hangs on a spider's web strung between blades of grass.
Weathered barns and an old grandstand sit empty at the foot of the green hills.
Rain moves across the valley, the hills disappearing into gray.A duck rears up out of the pond in a spray of water, wings flung wide.
A storybook cottage with a thatched roof and stone chimneys sits behind a garden of purple allium.
Close up, the thatched roof ripples like waves of weathered wood.A white farmhouse sits alone across the winter fields, a white rail fence in front.
Rows of green banker's lamps glow over the reading tables.
Dusk settles over the hills and a lake far below.The last light breaks through the clouds over the hills. To the seeker, the divinity of light will change only from its source, never from its majesty.
Dead trees stand in the still lake, doubled in its surface.
A chandelier blazes with rows of round bulbs.Carved scrolls and leaves in dark wood, in black and white.
From above, a lone duct on a gray rooftop.
An ornate empty frame hangs on the barn wall, framing only the weathered boards. We make meaning where there simply is none.Trees and lily pads blur together in the reflection, like a painting.
Light falls through a doorway into a dark, empty room.
A bare trunk rises from the lake beside its own reflection.Old cedar shingles stacked in layers, seen up close.
Workers in hard hats stand high on the glass tower as it rises.
A spider's web stretched between green blades, catching the light.Dormer windows line up along the roof of a brick row house.
A lantern glows against the wooden wall as the morning sun breaks through the garden.
Star trails wheel across the glass dome of a conservatory at night.A stream winds through the grass, lit by the sun going down behind the trees.
An iron spiral staircase curls up the red wall.
Painted place names ring the dome around a gilded skylight.A stream runs dark through the snowy woods, a fallen log bridging the bank.
A heavy door stands open to shelves of archive boxes.
An abandoned barn slumps in a field of dry grass beneath bare trees.Water spills over the rocks and down the falls.
