Morning Coffee
Morning coffee. Our friend Scott arrived late last night. The weekend lies ahead of us, he stretches for a run, we converse. Photo by: @jeremywadeshockley
Ghost Ranch
Ghost Ranch. The red dirt under my feet was once under the feet of Georgia O’Keeffe & bore the weight of Mr. Adams tripod. A rare piece of earth, drawing artists then, drawing artists now. Photo by: @jeremywadeshockley
Gatsby
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . Photo by: @jeremywadeshockley
Lone Snap
Lone snag. I pull off the highway, my eyes fixed on the horizon, the vast space which easily consumes the skeletal tree. Frame, compose, recompose. Photo by: @jeremywadeshockley
City Streets
Exploring the city streets. Rachel and I set out on the town, drawn to the warmth of Santa Fe. In the years we have known each other, our lives centered around our home in Colorado, cut into the steep slope of a mountain, hand built. We have paid for this in both time and energy, …