The grace of age

I love having a close look at people's hands, especially those of elderly people. You can guess a lifetime of stories from them.

My maternal grandfather has fascinating hands: he worked the farm most of his life and his hands were gnarled, a bit mishapen, darkened by days on end in the sun. His grip was incredibly strong, yet when handling us as kids, so very gentle too.

I caught this lady with pure white hair, painting a very delicate picture on a slate of wood. Her concentration was intense, but a smile graced her face, as if thinking of a pleasant memory that was just hers to enjoy.