There is a small lane that extends past our house. It has been through a lot recently - construction traffic, bulldozers, dump trucks. But slowly, the privet, blackberries, honeysuckle, rabbits, and deer are returning. Walking home on summer nights, this section of road is always the darkest. A mixture of nervousness and sanctuary. The canopy above open just enough to reveal the stars, not enough to show the moon.
There is a hill at the far side that Luca screams down on his bike. A few potholes that he knows to miss. At the top of the hill, a barn, and with older children I know it will become a hide-out, a camping spot, a source of endless imagination.
This photograph was made on the morning of commencement. A few clichés passed through my mind - the road ahead, traveling on, not knowing what’s around the corner, growth with a little lack of focus. Maybe it is just that. Even though I have put forth great effort in rejecting the clichéd photograph, I am comforted by this one. The light, the blackberry blossoms, and the haze on the left…all muddled and also centered by that dark spot on the asphalt.