I frequently think about time. How long it can stretch and, in the same measure, how quickly it seems to disappear. I draw constant inspiration from Claude Monet’s “Haystacks,” a series of paintings of the same haystacks across various seasons and times of day. Monet captured the shifting light and landscape through his focus on one steady subject. So I thought, why not try the same?
A year ago, I ventured to Concord’s Coeyman Park for the first time, weaving my way down the narrow path to the bridge off of Batchelder Mill Road.
My footsteps crunched over snow, a trail of prints tattooing the ground behind me. I arrived at the bridge to find icicles clinging to branches and a frozen stream humming as fresh water rushed underneath, unstopped by the frigid air.
A few months later, I sidestepped mud and searched for shoots of green protruding from the thawed earth, flowers poking their faces out to find sunshine and join the chirping birds in their joyful return.
In the persistent summer heat, I returned once again, this time to see the light glowing on the greenery, dappling the forest floor in a dancing pattern that seemed to buzz with energy.
The air grew crisp with promises of frost on the way, and so I made my way to the bridge one final time, with fiery leaves guiding my path, carpeting the soil, the roots, the rocks. Some trees had already shed their color, while others remained alight, alive with the full force of autumn.
Now I have four photos, compiled as time continues to ebb and flow around us like the seasons themselves.
So the next time nature sighs and ice melts to mud, sunlight shines on verdant branches with an extra sheen of brightness, leaves start to carry a russet tinge, or the first snowflakes fall from ashy clouds, savor the moment. Like everything living, breathing, navigating this tumultuous world we call home, it too shall change.
