Sometimes you just snap what you can, following your photography path and documenting each step. On other days you fall into a flow, visualising the image before you even see it, lost in a reverie and yet connected to every fibre of the . . .
Like my own Grandmother in mourning for her mother since 1953, each one is wearing black. They peer from a chair in their doorways during the day but in the early morning or late at night they come out of their cosy seclusion. While the men are down in the bars . . .
What is the dominant colour in your life? What is the light like? In my neck of the woods in rural Ireland, life is lived in green; 40 shades of it. It soothes in summer, bursts forth in Spring and any little shred of it is welcomed during winter. The skies are dramatic and varied. . . .
When you finally get to the top of the mule trails everything opens up below; the town of Kardamili, the church at the edge of the cliff, the layers of blue mountains behind. Land, sea and sky wrap around you. The scent of sage is the memory that will linger. That . . .
It's proving a challenge to capture the colours, shapes, and sheer abundance of the wildflower meadows and olive groves here; the scents underfoot, the way the breeze rustles the seeding grasses, the buzzing of bees. The sheer number and variety of flowers and plants . . .