Jimmy
Wilson’s
The
Enchanted Forest
No.
8
Come
with us to a land of beauty.
A
place of gentle winds, vibrant colors and an abundance of nature…Of
honeysuckle flowers, magnolia and pine…A place Where you can sit and
hear the
oak toads and the meadow lark nearby.
Just
for a moment, leave your cares behind and join Photographer
Jimmy Wilson as he takes you into an enchanted forest. It’s a
magical place (Only Jimmy knows where it is) and there you can rest,
take a breath, and maybe even see a dancing butterfly underneath a
full moon, or fairy with light pink wings wave hello.
|
The
Mushroom by Jimmy Wilson |
The
Fall *
"It’s
the little things that matter, you know," Dad said one day while
walking me to the park.
He then coughed while the wind, that big wind gushed between and
through us.
"Like
what?" I asked.
"Oh,
like your little hand," he answered, squeezing it. "Like that
leaf. When it falls from a tree, it is at its most beautiful, it’s
gold and crisp and stays that way till it turns ash.᾿
Dad
stopped, took a breath and coughed a mighty cough. He pulled his
jean jacket tighter across his chest.
"I
see," I said, walking faster while his pace slowed.
"Don’t
forget that, sweetie. The little things cause I won’t ever again."
And
then the wind blew, harder now, and I smiled as I saw a swing, a
little old, a little rusty.
It
was cold now; how wonderful that cold was and behind me was dad who
seemed so small and so far away.
"Come
on," I cried out. "Push me."
"I’ll
try," he uttered.
"Like this swing and you pushing me. That’s a little thing, huh?" I
asked when he finally caught up.
"Yep,"
he answered, and up I went, as high as dad and as big as a tree. And
then it was the wind, that glorious wind, who pushed me, not my dad
whose hands suddenly slipped away.
*Written by G.L.
All
journal entries, videos, and photographic images copyright Jimmy
Wilson Photographs.
All
Rights Reserved.