Memories of the West Boulder River, pastel, 2015. Original work, Lori Ryker.
It’s time. Time to consider direction and conception, where we are headed, and how we do what we do.
“Full Fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,
into something rich and strange,
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,
Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.”
Shakespeare, The Tempest
In Southwestern Louisiana where the wetland exists in a variety of conditions between water, earth and sky somedays it feels like I am floating with no definition between one and the other. And just when water fully merges with sky a sliver of land appears.