Category: time

2025, time

day and night

etikser
the first light of day, a golden sunrise
like the flip side of a coin
nightfall delivers glorious moonlight

It’s an addiction. The craving to go outside and catch the first golden light of dawn. Hours later, it’s the last few minutes of a long day, and I have to convince my ocean-breeze-tangled self to go inside, to leave a perfectly executed moon shining on the waves, even as the timepiece on my hand tells me I should be in bed.

A last glimpse of moonlight and the irresistible grandeur of the ocean and I head inside, reluctantly. Careful to pull the curtains open in my room, caution against sleeping in and missing the first sunlight rising again, over the horizon.

It’s an addiction…the ocean. A fabulous, senseless, overpowering addiction.

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© etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.

time

remembrance

etikser


Do we even notice the moments
as they dissolve in the wind?
So many lifetimes.
So many souls.
Time fades yesterday’s dreams,
the pictures we see as today’s memories.
Person to person,
age to age,
seasons scatter our precious images,
leaving quiet markers to remember
tomorrow’s history.

2021, space, time

continuum

etikser

In high school physics class, I did a paper on the theory of relativity. I didn’t choose the subject. It was a random distribution of topics, and I was lucky enough to get the theory of relativity. I did the research, I typed up the words and wrote sentences and paragraphs, and I prepared and delivered a presentation. Did I understand anything about the theory of relativity? No. I didn’t understand it then. I don’t understand it now.

After our stand-in-front-of-the-class presentations, the teacher asked each student a series of questions. So I read what I’d prepared for my report, and he asked me question #1, which I don’t recall at all. I spoke some words, because I was aware that words were required under such circumstances. But I knew, and he knew, I had almost no real understanding of the subject matter. I finished speaking and looked at him, and he looked at me with something like a blank look on his face. He said, ‘okay’, and there was a pause, and he moved on to the next presentation.

It’s called mercy.

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© Etikser. All Rights Reserved.

Not my artwork on the wall. It was mass produced, and I bought it years ago. All other photos and images here are my own. They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.

Please visit my other blog, Clover & Ivy, https://cloverandivy.wordpress.com.
I post mostly nature photos there.

seasons, time

transitions

etikser

I’m no good at transitions. A few days after Christmas, people are ready to move on. They throw out the wrapping paper, they recycle the boxes, they take down the tree. January 23rd, and I’m still trying to squeeze in every moment, every song, every note I missed.

That cricket. That damn cricket. The last cricket.

He had to be in the house. Sometimes I walked in the kitchen, and he’d stop, and then seconds later he’d start back up. That cheep was always good for a tug, or a smile, somewhere back in the emotional part of me. It was the sound of something vaguely reassuring. I don’t know, a warm muggy night? You go outside and it seems the whole neighborhood is asleep. Maybe a lazy pause in the dark, on the cement step at the end of the walk. He sounded like the moment you were alone with the trees and the stars and the balmy air and the sounds of the last bits of summer.

It’s one of those microseconds when you look up with hopeless hope that somehow there’s still some summer left. And that’s all it lasts. A microsecond.

That’s what blinks are for.

coping, coronavirus, life, time

time

etikser

March…May…July?

Yesterday morning, I had to take my car in, and I expected to see some traffic, surely, people with essential jobs driving to work. But no, I cruised through green light after green light. Traffic was even lighter than what I see for my weekly grocery trips.

I finally hit a red light, and looked out over the steering wheel to take in the trees along side the road. This was the first day that looked to me like summer. In a split second, it seemed, there was the aura of all we connect to green trees and warm breezes, and summertime. And without even the need to reconfigure my thoughts, an awareness of my evolving expectations of what this summer will be like.

Further down the road, a few people were out and about, individuals, walking or waiting by themselves, in the open air, and almost all of them wore masks. The trend towards wearing a mask even when you’re by yourself in the outdoors seems to be growing.

This is the way life’s been since the beginning of March. With cool weather dragging on into May, a Monday in May can feel like a Wednesday or a Friday in March, as if this spring will go on forever. Facing off with summer, it was like waking up from an afternoon nap feeling unsettled, and realizing you need to pull together enough focus, and enough energy, to make it through the rest of the day.

Photo from 2018