Easter Sunrise 2020

It's not uncommon for me to wake up at 2:00 or 3:00 AM and stay awake for awhile, then drift off again for a couple of hours. I don't even bother to call it insomnia - it's just my sleep pattern. And if you go onto Facebook between those hours you'll see plenty of others awake, too.

But today, when I woke up at 3:00 and then found myself still awake at 4:30, and realizing we were heading into a clear dawn, I decided to officially declare myself up for the day, grab a cup of coffee and pack my gear for Easter Sunrise 2020.

After considering various destinations via TPE (The Photographer's Ephemirus), I decided to stick to my tried and true Edgartown Lighthouse.

The morning was perfectly still - not a breath of wind, and I had the place to myself, all except for one other human being who I feared might end up wandering into my shot but who was just taking a walk and headed off down the beach to the left a ways. I was surprised to find myself alone down there. Somehow I thought this would be a hot spot for Easter morning photos.

These photos are a combination of EOS R with the 24-70, Lumix LX100II, and 5DMKII with the 70-200. I was happy with the performances of all of them. The only thing I might have done differently would have been to throw the big Sigma 150-600 into a back pack, but one: I didn't feel like hiking down to the beach with the extra weight; two: I figured the focal length would be too long for the amount of space I knew I'd be working in - which was mostly true. But yeah, I probably should have packed it. L-a-z-y!



North Water Street. It would have been just like me to have gotten distracted by this and missed the sunrise, but I managed to take one shot and keep on moving (my destination is not far from here), my eyes on the prize.







Looking towards Chappaquiddick.







I figured the sun would be coming up very close to the Cape Pogue gut, and I wasn't too far off. That would have been the case if I had set myself up at the town wharf, I believe.









This lucky gull is flying off with its breakfast - most likely a (unlucky) scallop. He will circle around and drop it onto the concrete base surrounding the lighthouse where it will break open and he'll feast on the innards. I wonder what gull was the first to figure out that survival trick.

A glance backwards towards my little town.
Happy Easter, everyone.

He Is Risen!

Good Friday 2020

A Good Friday unlike any other. I have to say, watching the various masses and liturgies in empty churches, especially during Lent - meant to be a somber and quiet time anyway - is quite powerful.

See you on the other side - in more ways than one.

Isaiah 40

Isaiah 40:4-5
4 "Every valley shall be exalted And every mountain and hill brought low; The crooked places shall be made straight And the rough places smooth; 5 The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, And all flesh shall see it together; For the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

These are the words that keep running through my mind during the current corona virus pandemic. For the first time that I know of, the entire world is focused on the same thing. We are unified in our concerns and reactions to the corona virus. We are unified in sickness and in death. We are all brought to our knees and the playing field is leveled; we are all in basic survival mode with pretentions and past differences set aside. No one is better or worse than anyone else, and no one is exempt. There is also a level of universal kindness in evidence that is quite remarkable - the valleys are indeed raised up and the hills are brought low. And while I am lonely, scared, and at times quite depressed about the situation, my complaints are insignificant in the face of what is going on because we are all in this together. Oh, I could complain, but the response would rightly be, "Take a ticket and get in line."

We are in the season of Lent, Passion Sunday today, to be specific. For the past five weeks we have been focused on the wilderness experience, Jesus' journey to the cross. Some of us gave up pleasures and abstained from familiar activities to join ourselves to Jesus' walk to the cross, not knowing that very shortly after Ash Wednesday we would all be plunged into an involuntary and even deeper level of sacrifice, including not even being able to attend Mass. While all of this is challenging and frightening - and this week and next are predicted to be the worst of the situation for the US, peaking during Holy Week, which also includes Passover, making this coming week doubly holy - I am more aware then usual of God's presence and his love- especially as manifested by our caring for one another other - something big is going on here! - and deep down, I know that we are going to be okay, that Easter morning - whatever the exact date - will come.

A blessed (and healthy) Holy Week to all.


Hosanna, Loud Hosanna!

Lent 2020

Yesterday, after a session of Jesus Play with my grandchildren, 5 year-old Zeke spontaneously took the bread (a piece of modeling clay) from one of the stories on display in my dining room and put it in the chalice, and then inserted the baby Jesus from the Christmas story. I'd say that Zeke, whether he knows it or not,  has a pretty good grasp of the Eucharist (this is all about 2" high). A blessed Lent to you. 

Ready for the Storm

I am (literally) in the upstairs of my childhood home, in the suite of rooms that was once my mother's, my brother's, and my bedrooms. I am (in my mind) eight years old. I am safe in my world, bolted in on a Saturday morning, left to my own imaginings, wanderings, creative projects, and songs; listening to the wind in the distance, awaiting the promised storm that will soon blanket the world outside my windows in pure white silence.





The voice of the Lord upon the waters,
the God of glory thunders;
the Lord on the immensity of waters;
the voice of the Lord full of power;
the voice of the Lord full of splendor.

(from Psalm 29, Grail version)

Saint Paul's in Harvard Square

St. Paul's in Harvard Square is my official off-island church home these days, and a couple of months ago, as part of a calendar project I was asked to help out with, I was turned loose with my camera in this magnificent church which is constructed of hand-carved marble, imported from Italy. The place is so massive and so spectacular that even after having spent three afternoons and many hours exploring, photographing, and viewing the columns and arches and porticoes from every angle, I felt as though I'd only scratched the surface.

St. Paul's is also home to a world renowned boys' choir school, directed by John Robinson. The boys chant the daily Mass and sing in a combined boys and men's choir on Sunday mornings. Heavenly (hint: run the recording while viewing the photos).

Once in Royal David's City