I find it interesting the things that come to mind when I am editing my work. In this sand dune image, I was cleaning some dust spots off and noticing how the horizon line was slightly blurred. I remember it was quite windy this day, the persistent wind off of Lake Michigan that is known for sculpting many of the dunes on the west side of Michigan. On this horizon, there is a lot of blowing sand. Just a thin sand “atmosphere” of sorts. I remember being pelted with those bits when crossing the various ridges here. When looking closely at the bark of these tree remains, you can see the toll the blowing sand has taken on them. The bark is pitted, worn, and raw in spots.
Many consider the phrase “Sands of Time” to be sand falling in an hourglass, the fleeting time that we are all on this planet. It is much harsher than that. The sand is not encased in a protective enclosure just steadily falling away. It is out in the open, blowing and colliding, slowly ripping away and sculpting the surfaces it meets. Ultimately it ends up consuming and burying those things, perhaps creating something new. That seems much more representative of life.