Nita Reitter

An old wooden door on a rural chapel holds the quiet memories and simple faith of a small farming community

The sunset behind a row of concrete grain silos paints the twilight clouds in streaks of plum and bronze.

The deep, resinous scent of unrefined cedar gum inside a cooper's tool chest smells of damp forest and iron.

We are the passengers on an overnight ferry, watching the harbor lights fade slowly into the dark sea fog

The scent of the high desert after a rain shower is the cleanest, sharpest air you will ever pull into your lungs

An isolated wood-fired pottery kiln tucked into a hillside fold glows with an intense, steady amber warmth

The steady, rhythmic click of a marine tide gauge recording the midnight surge echoes inside the concrete pier

The sky at first light is a delicate blend of lavender, peach, and soft gold, waiting for the sun's arrival

The scent of an old canvas rucksack is a nostalgic mixture of dried oilskin, paraffin, cedar smoke, and wool

A heavy padlocked timber gate at the trail's end marks the boundary where human roads yield to wilderness