July was promise, hope and possibility.

With the first of August came a growing anxiety. . . of summer half over, of goodbyes and endings. The preciousness of those moments of discovery — of frogs and salamanders caught, examined, released. The time of first times, first loyalties — first betrayals . . . time spent with family, fleeting friendships and hours exploring alone.

Always, always there was water. A lake, a pond, a creek, an ocean.

I yearn . . . I dream. And in these photographs I hope to revive summer memories, the mysteries, the magic and wonder. The mercurial perfectness and finite preciousness of August, or August as a state of mind warmly intertwined with nature’s essential elements.