A mirrored lake in the foreground has clouds reflected in it, and forested ridgelines stretch across the centerline of the photo, with a mirrored reflection in the glassy lake. — *Mist Rising*

Mist skates across mirrored water. Fish rise, dappling the surface and warping the reflected universe above. Leaves and buds burst in hues of chartreuse and auburn. Clouds billow across ridge lines, shifting shapes and shades.

I’ve haunted these shores and waters season after season. The visits resonate in my memory, distinct and alive. Otters slice through water. Great horned owls bellow against a silent, dusky night sky. Cormorants perch on partially-submerged logs. Watching. Waiting.

A macro shot of ferns, with narrow focus on one fern frond. The image is bright green, and the ferns look soft. — *Between the Ferns*

It’s an age-old tradition for photographers and fisherpeople to hide their secrets, as if sharing a location will shatter the magic of discovery. As I type, I find myself hesitating to give the name of this place, fingers itchy with the weight of my decision.

Perhaps I have no right to name this place, to call it out, to shout it to the wind in celebration or invitation. Or perhaps I’m crafting a half-veiled excuse, trying to give myself permission to exclude others from this nook of the world, this sanctuary. To hoard this treasure for my eyes only.

A forested ridgeline and blue sky is reflected on the surface of a calm lake. Mist rises from the lake, and the deciduous trees are bright orange and red with fall color. — *Mist Rising, Autumn*

And so I share this place as an offering. Perhaps one day soon I will set out on my seasonal pilgrimage, and I’ll find you on the shore, raising a hand in greeting. Perhaps one day this place will echo down the corridors of your memories. Our resonating experiences will be multiplied and transformed by the beauty of a shared moment.

I’ve always believed in the power and weight of words.

Moose Pond. Pittsburg, New Hampshire.

A water lily blooms against dark water and lily pads. The lily pads are dappled in water droplets, and they are green, orange, and yellow. — *Water Lily*

Come find me on the shores of mist-shrouded water. Join me in celebrating the places that fill us with joy, the moments that fuel our curiosity.

Walk beside me on this journey, in search of the unexpected.

Welcome to Twolined Studio, my friend.

Mist Rising

Valley of the Wolves

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