[A blog post in which I indulge in some good, old-fashioned, first-person sharing.]
Elk Mountain on a spontaneous morning hike. The mountains brought solace to me in a hard time over the past summer. I continue to find peace there.
My trusty chariot (actually, it hasn't been that reliable). It's a favourite possession of mine, having played a role in many an adventure and the development of my mechanical skills - and friendships. To many thousand more kilometres!
Casual street hockey in the Sears parking lot is a great way to bring friends together on a chilly weekend evening.
Sunset from the street in front of my humble, yet comfortable, basement suite. I have a good roommate now, which has been quite a blessing this winter.
Here's a recent project from work. I designed the graphics (which are nothing to write home about) and did most of the coordination of production and installation. Getting the LED screen to communicate with the computer on site was an ordeal, and when it finally worked I couldn't resist programming this message on the new sign.
Running, mountain biking, longboarding, and now skiing: I can't seem to stay away from activities that move faster than the regular pace of life. It's not that life doesn't move fast enough for me - quite the opposite. But for all its speed and fury, to fall in graceful arcs down the side of a mountain is an experience that beautifully counterbalances the pain of existing in a broken world. Wind, speed, and balance distill into something fleeting yet all the more precious for its brevity. Praise God for these good gifts.
I think trees are cool because all they do is grow toward the light.
shadow shoots ahead then grows behind again, ad nauseum, thorn in the side. width of empty sidewalk blurs. or the garbage on thursday, or a nameless neighbour - nod - man with dog.
street lights on a dark road.
scuffing shoes, just one pair running, hiding. daylight-waiting.