NOSTALGIA

Nostalgic moments can arise inexplicably, leaving you wondering why this particular scene drew you back into a foggy pool of nostalgic associations.

An old truck,

parked on a Seattle street on a cold winter day –

the electric wires overhead, the blue sky and soft clouds,

the wet pavement and

luminous light merge,

evoking a familiar but inchoate feeling.

A recognition,

re-seeing.

———-

Road trips evoke nostalgia, and also the familiar roads

traveled dozens of times from home to work and back again,

their curves and hills

lodged in my muscles

like a dance.

A fall rain shower washes out the details, and

the well-traveled path transports me

to a vaguely nostalgic place.

A place located in my mind and outside it –

here and now, time expands

through being

in a particular place.

A foggy window on a winter morning

is the softly translucent  backdrop

for buds promising spring. Suddenly

I’m nostalgic for everything green and

warm and

pushing past barriers – the whole gestalt of

springs past and future,

is evoked by tiny, frail buds

holding their own against

winter’s stubborn grays.

Through the car window,

glowing in evening light, a bouquet

of summer:

Queen Ann’s Lace, White Sweet Clover, Honeysuckle…

their fragrance, their familiar names,

gathered again

from roadside waste places that I’ve memorized

over the years…

A petal

falls

onto an old book.

Oozing nostalgia, it’s sepia pages provide

a pleasurable half

hour

on a summer

afternoon.

I might sit here to read,

but

this nostalgia is borrowed.

I took the picture at an estate sale in a Connecticut seaside town..

White

cotton curtains

floating

on a summer breeze;

the window screen

has

a small tear or two.

Flowers hide.

Another window screen,

another home – this screen

catching early spring raindrops.

As a child I gazed out windows,

shifting

my focus back and forth

between the details

of tiny screen grids –

and the big, beckoning outdoors,

far

beyond.

A nostalgia of rainy roads:

always

the movement, the shimmering movement across space,

and through time,

until the membranes separating locations and times are thoroughly soaked

and dissolved

into nostalgia.

MVC-862Fc

***

Take a look at this week’s Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge, overflowing with nostalgia.


50 comments

    • Thank you Kat. I do take some time choosing photos and refining the words. And I really enjoy the challenge of that. It’s even more gratifying when people make thoughtful comments like yours.

  1. Your superb photos are such exquisite and gentle soothers to the emotions of nostalgia, which as you say, always strike us unawares. I adore your second shot, which for me bears the nostalgia of wondering what was ahead . . . .

  2. Pingback: Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic | To Mother Earth, with Love

  3. I really enjoyed this. It was so quiet and peaceful and made me nostalgic for my own memories. Would you mind if I pinned it on Pinterest? It helps me find things like this later when I want to read them again.

    Nancy

      • A pin would show the photo and the URL of your website. Since you don’t have a Pinterest button on your blog, I would put into the comment box that this was repinned with permission. If you would like me to put more into the comment box, I’d be happy to do so. Here’s an example of a pin from my own blog:

        I certainly don’t have to pin it, but I did enjoy it very much. But once it’s out there, it could be repinned by anyone. Some people don’t mind and others mind very much.

        Keep in mind that I have my own body of work, so I certainly don’t need or want to take credit for yours. Here’s another pin from a fellow blogger that I pinned (so you can see how it works). She has a Pinterest button on her own blog, so I don’t need to ask for permission to do it.

        Let me know and thanks for visiting my own blog!

        Nancy

      • Sorry I’ve taken days to reply – have been too busy with work – but go ahead. I appreciate the effort you went to to explain this. Other people whose blogs I follow have complained about this sort of thing, so I was being cautious. I’m glad you enjoyed the post!

  4. Oh you did again. You have made me positively nostalgic. With the absense of particulars each and every photo can speak to us all. I could weave a tale to go with each image. And the rain drop window, oh how that conjured up a memory. Leave it to you to think of taking a photo through a rain dropped window. Love it!

  5. Yes, indeed, there was a bit of poetry in your images and words, Lynn…such a pleasurable read this morning…thank you for taking us/me with you on your reminiscences into those other times…..

  6. The past as a paradise it’s probably lost but his nostalgia is eternal.. through images, photos, memories. I really like the message behind the images and the words.

  7. hi Lynn, you’ve composed a wonderful nostalgic upload: I like your intro very much, both visual (the old car – flashback to my own childhood too) – and the poetic words: “An old truck, parked on a Seattle street on a cold winter day – the electric wires overhead, …”
    P.S.: thank you for your kind comments, especially to the ballad of RUNNING BEAR: some nostalgic feelings coming up, isn’t it?

    • Thanks Paul – I appreciate hearing your thoughts. It may be that part of what you capture so well, and so often, is also in that not exactly here- not exactly there space, so this resonates. That’s what I’m thinking anyway.


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