New Eyes

Christmas Eve and all is quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me. With all my children grown and gone there are no kids, no wrapping paper scattered around, no dirty dishes in the sink, no voices downstairs playing video games and no traditional sticky spaghetti for dinner. Life is an ever changing canvas, isn't it?

The other day I was shooting portraits of my granddaughter - she's a bouncing, laughing, always in motion little girl of 26 months. Smart as a whip and a lot of fun to try to lasso down for some photos. I found myself fuming as I snapped frame after frame of her, trying to catch her at rest - to freeze her in that moment. I finally said in a stern voice, "Look at me WITH YOUR EYES, Alex." This is what I got. Okay, not what I thought I asked for but you have admit pretty darn funny. It wasn't until tonight that I realized how much her reaction to my request is how I should look at the changes in my family and life.

So what if the holidays and life in general are different now? It is how you perceive it that makes it okay or not okay. Alex heard me say something about looking at her eyes, so she pointed to them! I say I want my holidays to be loud, full of my kids and family with messy paper and ribbon all around. Well, its probably never going to be that way again so I should listen to what I really mean. I want the feeling that goes with all those things. I want to hear their voices and know they are happy and safe. That is do-able no matter where in the world they are on a particular day. I just have to remember to smile and pick up the phone or turn on the web cam. And, oh yeah, I can always make sticky spaghetti - it's my specialty...Merry Christmas!

Fire Monster

What is it about fire that fascinates human beings? Is it the heat, the color, the power that emanates from it? The pulsating of the flames, the sound of the cracking destruction that it causes? I watched in awe as our solstice bonfire kept us, the entire lot of us, at bay around the flaming monster that was created when twigs and branches were thrown onto the almost living, breathing entity. A few of us were baiting it - loading it with fuel and then raking it down into a glowing circle only to reload it with crackling and sparking wood, watching it grow powerful and bright again.

As I stood just outside the glowing circle of light, I realized that there was a predictable cycle of flame and fire, sparks and embers. When the fuel was tossed on, the fire would first go down and then sparks would fly into the black of the night sky just before the roar of a renewed flame would fill the air and smoke would come next, sometimes a lazy white curtain, sometimes a black dense fog. Then it would settle into flames that were low and in same ways softly comforting only to eventually need to have more fuel loaded onto it to get the embers back to flame. And the cycle would start all over...Why are we so fascinated by fire? I think it is because in a lot of ways it is like our lives: Light the fire, feed the flames, tease back to life and rake out the coals. Predictable? Yes. Boring? Never.

Inspiration Hits When Least Expected

Inspiration - where does it come from? That's what I am thinking about tonight. Sometimes it hits you at the oddest times - a phrase, a ray of light or even another person can trigger it. Anyway, I was already thinking about this earlier today after someone mentioned that they had been inspired to do something by the grey, rainy weather. Seemed odd to me but, heck, who am I to decide what inspires someone? So, I brought these thoughts home with me as I drove through the foggy downpour and suddenly I felt inspired myself. I became all wrapped up in the idea of photographing our Christmas lights in the rain. Not a truly wise activity if you value your camera equipment but that didn't seem important at that moment. I was intrigued with the thought of encasing my gear in plastic and putting myself in my waterproof shoes and just going for it! So when I arrived home, I dragged everything out into the waning light of the winter afternoon, rain pouring down from the heavens - my camera wearing it's lovely shower cap cover and I took photos of those darn lights from every angle. Hmmm. Nothing I had photographed was turning me on and discouraged, I found myself getting ready to quit. Then out of the blue "IT" happened - I forgot to remove the plastic shower cap from in front of my lens before snapping the shutter one last time. What appeared on the back of my camera was an abstract image that was exactly as I was seeing the image in my mind's eye! I was excited again! So, off I went to re-take all the images I had already done - happily dripping wet and cold but my soul singing - INSPIRATION! It sometimes comes from accidents of life and an open mind....ah, inspiration!

Christmas Cards and the like

CHRISTMAS CARDS - Two words that either inspire great dread or great joy depending completely upon your mindset. I am going to admit right here in front of all of you who might stumble upon this blog, that I love Christmas cards. I do. I love creating my own personal greeting card for those I care about, using my limited abilities as an artist but enjoying the tactile feel of the papers, the inks and oh yes, the glitter! Every year I spend hours combing through my photo files looking for the one or two images that convey the way I feel about the season. Sometimes I choose a simple landscape - snow on my house or a pine bough covered in white. Sometimes I chose an event - the stagecoach in town giving rides for free or my husband dragging the Christmas tree along the path after cutting it down fresh. This year I went in a slightly different direction with my choice but it is a clear picture of life these days - I took it while snowshoeing last winter - a lone person in the distance making his way up the glittering ( oh, yes, there has to be glitter!) mountain trail toward a patch of blue sky. A hopeful photo, I think. We all need a little hope; some positive energy; some beautiful sky to head toward! I always like to end the year with a smile and a look back but then I move forward toward whatever waits out there for us all. Ah, Christmas cards.

The Cantaloupe Moon

Photo by Catch-22 @deviantart.com

A friend shared this photo of the moon that he had taken on a particularly clear Oklahoma evening recently. After my initial "ohh, ahh" reaction to the crystal clear image and the beautiful indigo sky, I got to thinking - as I often do - of how much the moon looks like a cantaloupe. Seriously. Look at the shape, the texture, the lumps, bumps and even the uneven color of the surface. What is particularly striking about the moon in this image, is that there is a definite spot on the lower left side of the lunar surface that looks exactly like where the fruit would be attached to the vine if it were indeed a melon. I have heard people say that the moon is made of green cheese and I have heard of a blue moon but why has no one ever commented on how much like that wonderful fruit, the cantaloupe, the moon actually resembles? Hmm. Something to ponder on a cold November night...Garden of Eden, anyone?

Pink Light

Why is it that light changes so fast? It is a frustrating thing as a photographer and even just as an observer of all things natural - Right about the time you notice the color or texture of the light, it changes. Tonight the clouds were clearing after 4 days of freak early November snow and the mountains in the distance had this pink glow. Bright pink in some places, soft pastel in others, the snow covered mountains not white as one would expect. I have never seen anything like it. The clouds that hugged the tops of the peaks were a bit on the orange side with shades of pink in the undertones. The sky surrounding the clouds was a blue-gray, almost the color of metal. I reached for my camera and realized, of course, that it wasn't in my purse like yesterday. So I madly tried to feel for my iPhone on the seat next to me, all the while looking for the "best" vantage point to take a photo to memorialize this awesome moment in time. I pulled off the freeway and as I raised the phone to snap the image, the light was gone. Poof. Gone. All I have left of that little bit of heaven is the image in my head. I guess that isn't so bad.

Endings and all

Walking through my yard yesterday my mind went off in a strange direction - Death and dying. A cheery subject for a lovely afternoon, I thought to myself. You know those strange conversations you have with yourself from time to time, right? Anyway, the question is: Why is it that somethings die beautifully and others die ugly? I am not just talking about plants.

I saw these coneflowers near my driveway and my first thought was "Ugh, I am going to have to pull those OUT!" but I continued on my way to the other side of the house and as I looked up, I saw the most amazing colors in my Japanese Maple - Humm. Almost side by side, two ways to die. Dried up and hard or colorful and floaty. Is floaty a word? Now I know that the tree isn't exactly dying but the leaves are going to be dead and gone in another day or two - just another mess for me and my broom to sweep up! And yet, the coneflowers would remain exactly where they are until I physically pull them out of the ground. It's a puzzlement. So which is the preferable way to "go" I wonder?

Today I was once again in the yard and found myself looking at both the coneflower and the Maple. I had been busy all afternoon pruning, pulling, raking, burning, stacking wood and hauling...those brightly colored leaves, just a part of the burn pile now. The coneflowers? Still standing proud and tall in the flowerbed. I just couldn't bring myself to pull them out of the ground where they were obviously so deeply rooted.

I guess I admire the tenaciousness of the ugly death. That's the way I will go - prickly, hard and holding on to whatever I can find to keep me upright! Sorry kids.

Why Oh Why

I found myself sweeping the back porch this morning, fall leaves scattered around me like confetti after a parade or something - the two big girls sniffing around mildly interested in this odd human activity. The blond one settled down and watched from a vantage point at the corner of the deck, her dark eyes serious. The black one disappeared into the house for a moment and then she came swooping out the back door, tennis ball in her mouth. I knew what was about to happen but before I could do anything to protect my hard work, she tossed her head and the ball came flying toward me landing in the big pile of scarlet, orange and gold leaves. The black dog was not far behind. When she came up for air, the leaves exploded upwards, scattering and then drifting back down to the wooden deck from whence they had come. All my hard work was gone. Now, I like to sweep as much as the next person so I raised my broom in protest but found I couldn't bring myself to reprimand her. There was a simple joy that radiated from that silky black face, tongue hanging crazily out and tail wagging like there was no tomorrow. I found myself just staring at that silly dog and wondering why it is that some creatures can be so joyous? Why would the simple act of trying to entice a game of ball and landing in a pile of leaves make something so happy? Why do we humans not seem to have the simple ability to just be joyful most of the time? Why do we worry about the inconsequential like who took the garbage out, who left one square of toilet paper on the roll or my favorite, did you make the bed before leaving this morning? I don't know the answer but I know this: I wish that for just five minutes I could be that black dog and feel the joy of jumping into a pile of something and not worrying about what others will think.