David Fraser

A Place of Memories

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The mythology layered into my soul speaks to me about the garden, the natural habitat. I was one of the lucky ones standing knee deep in the Richmond Park grass left to grow naturally, go to seed, provide the shelter for herds of deer, somewhat wild. I remember the hollow oak, a hiding place more lofty than a castle's walls, safer than stone. The artificial pond remains an archetype, the dog, a friend for a week. At Brighton Beach the stuffed donkey came to life, its fur rubbed smooth like the skin horse from The Velveteen Rabbit.

Bald Eagle, Bolle's, and Telephoto

Learning to Hike in the Rockies

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