Nature Photography Day

/ still a dreamer

Above, a view from a walking path that parallels the Delaware River in Frenchtown, NJ.

Each year, Nature Photography Day is celebrated on June 15. The NANPA, North American Nature Photography Association, was founded in 1994 to bring together people who shared a passion for photographing the natural world and a belief in its conservation value.

The first Nature Photography Day was established in 2006 to celebrate the organization’s love of nature and photography.

13 thoughts on “Nature Photography Day”

    • Are you planning on returning to WP? I wish you would. At least for your poetry. I don’t spend that much time on FB if I can help it, so I’m sure I miss what you write some of the time. Come back!😕

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      • That’s very kind of you, Jeanne. I found WP a bit pricey and wasn’t receiving many visitors when I left. I miss having a lovely place to share. I’ll try to send you poems when I post them. Facebook is not at all ideal, but it gets my poems to more of my friends. 🩷

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        • I would appreciate that. Yours has always been among the sites on WP that I liked the most. Something I found a while back, that there are many more people seeing my posts than I ever thought. They are quiet, and for the most part, don’t Like or Comment, but many hundreds of people see my posts all the time, from all over the world. Had you ever checked your stats?

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          • Not often. Possibly should have.

            This one’s nearing completion. Almost there… XO

            Birth Day

            Though she be but little, she is fierce!

            ~ A Midsummer Night’s Dream (2.3)

            Wm. Shakespeare

            It finally arrived

            in its perfect time —

            my birth day.

            I walked to the water

            (symbols matter)

            and I sat,

            on the day of my choosing,

            with memories

            collected over 71 years.

            I spread them out before me.

            One by one, I gave them

            time and space

            to tell me again

            how I had been silenced,

            altered, cut off at the path

            of my becoming.

            They were here to help me

            specifically extricate,

            with surgical precision,

            all the forced apologies

            of a lifetime.

            You’re just a girl

            —I’m sorry

            You can’t do it that way

            —I’m sorry

            You’re too fast, too silly

            Too weak, too strong

            Too bossy, too dependent

            —Again, I’m sorry

            Too loud, too defiant

            Too feminine, too tough

            Too romantic, too logical

            Too dramatic, too predictable

            Too impetuous, too fearful

            —I’m sorry, so very sorry

            Too deep, too passionate

            Too bawdy, too hesitant

            Too smart, far too smart

            Too spiritual, too heathen

            Too caring, too wild

            You’re not a good fit

            —I’m sorry, I’m sorry

            Too free, too restrained

            Too strong, too hopeful

            Too young, too old

            —I’m sorry

            Too intimate, too guarded,

            Too mercurial, too angry, too challenging

            You’re just not good enough.

            Who do you think you are?

            —I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

            Each oppressively prompted apology

            was untangled and gently extracted.

            Voices neither mine nor kind

            were meticulously separated,

            excised from the tissue of my being,

            and the design of my soul.

            It was exhausting, this being born,

            this paring down to the neonatal

            pure possibility of oneself,

            nakedly revealed and brilliantly shining

            after so many years of waiting.

            It was bliss.

            Each exeresis caused an inner shift;

            I was picking the pin and tumbler lock

            to my self.

            And at last the door opened.

            I looked at the mountain of apologies.

            I’d been lost in layers

            of beliefs and perceptions

            that were hand-me-downs,

            ancient, tattered, cruel,

            not mine, not me—

            a lifetime of ill-fitting prisons.

            I set them aflame,

            just there, on the shore,

            a dazzling bonfire,

            exploding sparks,

            my metamorphosis arrived,

            past sorrow to present joy.

            Then I danced with the stars

            beneath the bright moon,

            and lay down with my always/only self,

            and the fox stood guard,

            and the owl sang lullabies

            that married so sweetly

            with the music

            of the waves.

            I laughed,

            and wept,

            and slept,

            and dreamed…

            all night long

            I was baptized in my own name.

            In the morning,

            I listened.

            Then I cast off all the rules

            that had never matched

            my soul’s appetite

            and released

            all the answers

            that left me hungry for truth.

            And I walked the glittering shore

            and gathered all the questions

            that mattered to me—

            my first meal upon being born—

            and it fed and filled my heart,

            my heart.

            And I set out

            into my new year,

            to live my own holy life,

            chosen

            with no apologies.

            ~Kitty O’Meara

            Illustration: Arthur Rackham, Hermia, 1908

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          • I have to head out, and will read to my heart’s content when I return, but at the moment, the text is filled with erratic symbols. Are you able to see that?
            I’m all in with the line, little but fierce. Be back soon. ❤️

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          • Finally, I could sit down and read the whole poem. Kitty, so, so real. That’s the word I want. Beautifully written, but so, so real. And boy, do I get it. All too well.
            Happy Birthday to you, my friend, dancing in the firelight by the sparkling waters!

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          • Thank you, Jeanne! For all of this and all your gifts. I am so blessed to know you and appreciate you in my life so very much. XO

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  2. What a beautiful picture! Your photos of nature are always amazing. I can picture myself right there in the middle of them. So glad you don’t wait for one day to share them. Love you. ❤️

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