Before journeying to the Brooks Estate, I stood in the living room holding my camera, staring out through that rippled glass of which I’ve written so often. And as I swayed just a bit to change the angle of my view … well, the reflection of the white curtains in the glass and the twisting shapes of the trees, still mostly bare of any leaves, through the glass … they reminded me of many things, from running water to ballet dancers moving across a stage. I could even see singers with hands raised high and voices ringing out in praise.
Tracey in Maine 