Feature Photo Beth Blair, Photographer
The Airlie Oak
This is a beloved tree in Wilmington, North Carolina at Airlie Gardens. It is a Century Oak, meaning it has been here for more than 100 years. Can you just imagine what it has lived through and witnessed?
This image was captured almost as an after thought. I turned around and saw the light beaming around the tree. It was pure magic!
Suggested size: 16 ” x 21″
Other sizes and print options available. Please contact to purchase.
Beth's Blog Musings, Contemplation, Creativity ...
The morning brings many gifts to those who wake in the wee hours of the day. The solitude as the neighborhood sleeps or the pause before the first light are treasures known only to those who rise in the dark of the day. It can be a very creative time with the mind and body being fresh from sleep. The stirring of Dreamtime lingers at the edge of consciousness, and this creativity can be the muse or inspiration of art, writing, cooking, etc.
There is a moment of excitement when the light comes into the sky, and no two mornings are the same. This is a great time to meditate, walk in nature, or for some other spiritual practice. It is a time of the Self, solitude, not loneliness. Being a morning person is a practice that, with time, needs no alarm. There is a hunger to meet the morning, the darkness, the light, and the day. And with the quiet of day comes a richness that fills the soul.
As a morning person, I find that it has shifted over the years and even lengthened as I wake earlier. Walking at first light may seem routine, yet it is filled with something different each day. No two sunrises are ever the same. The pallet that is painted in the sky excites the artist in me. The quagmire is that life changes and time passes, and it seems to move quicker the more we rush about as society insists. Taking time as a morning person, for yourself before anything else is a powerful practice. It certainly is something to ponder and question, and even more to be experienced.
Have you ever been at the edge of change and felt so tiny? The magnificent possibilities are before you. They are breathtaking, and you freeze? I saw this child playing in the waves on Thanksgiving Day. It was cold, windy, and gray. She waded in and then paused, watching the wave roll in, then she jumped and laughed.
I find myself at this edge of change. I am uncertain of what will come next. I am in that child-like pause, waiting for the wave. During this pause, I am taking time with nature and art, opening the creative flow again and shifting my vision and sight. I see the light shining through, even when it feels a bit dark.
When I look at this photo of the surf on Thanksgiving Day, I am taken by the illuminating light and reflection of the water, the spots of sunshine trying to break through the dense cloud coverage. It feels hope-filled, brimming with the possible. Having the ocean as a frequent teacher now is such a gift. There are no two days the same at its shore. The beauty of photos is that they are snapshots of moments we can revisit, ruminate on, and learn from.
Are you standing at the edge of something? Are you taking a pause? What is brimming with the possible? Will you invite it in?
Peace and Blessings,
Blue Jean Oracle
Have you ever been called by a place? Do you know what the pulse of home feels like? Though both may add to the calling, I don’t mean a house or people. I am speaking of the rich and deep call of the land of a particular location. To date, I have felt this call for two places: Ireland, the land of my ancestors, and the place I now live in. It took me a long, long while to listen to this call of coastal North Carolina. I lived in this place half my life ago. I brought my son and husband, at the time, to live closer to our family. Life and living took me away from this place. I regularly visited until my mother’s death in 2012; my visits then became occasional. Each time I returned, there was an unsettling feeling, a nagging. It persisted for years.
It wasn’t until a conversation with the land in Ireland in 2019 that I could hear the call of Wilmington, NC. It whispered at first, not giving up on me. Finally, after the isolation of COVID, the chapter ending with my retirement from massage therapy, and a few other nudges, I put the process in motion to relocate. It happened so fast, the staging and decluttering a house I had lived in for 15 years and putting it on the market. All the pieces fell into place as my heart raced and panic set in. It was happening. I was finally getting something I truly wanted.
Friends were surprised, disheartened, and even almost angry that I made this “sudden” decision to leave a place I had lived for 25 years. As the saying goes, you never really know what another is feeling or thinking. You can never walk in another’s shoes. The truth is, with the isolation of COVID, I was more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. I didn’t go out much and didn’t see these friends that were surprised by my decision to move. I existed in a place that was “safe and familiar.” I was racking up debt, trying to make my way as a creative soul, and looking down many dead-end roads. There was no spark. I felt like I was pushing a rock up a hill. And I was tired.
When the offer on the house came in the first weekend on the market, I knew the universe was conspiring in my favor. I was nervous, anxious, and excited. I had no idea what I would “do” in Wilmington; I just knew I was finally going home.
More blog posts to come. Stay connected by following Blue Jean Oracle on Facebook and Instagram.
All Photographs are for sale.
Several print options are available: aluminum prints, canvas prints, and Framed Prints.
Please contact me for information and pricing.