Sea Blue Lens


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Photo-Heart Connection: September

Day’s End

I think that evening, here, is my favorite time of day. Everything slows down. Quiets down. The sun sinks low in the sky; the wind drops and the dust settles. The horses have been fed and contentedly munch their dinner, and I look forward to mine.

I go outside, camera in hand, and walk around the house and yard, observing how the angle of the light has changed since mid-summer, how much earlier the dusk falls. There are no clouds, but the sky begins to glow around the edges with the colors of the inside of a sea shell.

I return to the cottage and open all the windows as far as possible, to let in the cool evening air. The birds are silent and the nightly coyote chorus has not yet begun. The most noticeable sound is the water trickling in the fountain out front.

Peace seems to drift over the land. Perhaps that is only an illusion, but in this moment, it is enough. For me, the quiet is peace enough, and I will cherish it while it lasts.

Each month, the Photo-Heart Connection at Kat Eye Studio challenges us to look over our photos from the month and share the one that speaks most to our hearts. The choice often surprises me, and it’s not always easy to put words to that choice. But it’s a challenge that I really look forward to each month. I’d encourage you to try it.

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Creatures Great and Small

I have been amazed and delighted by the variety of wildlife (and not-so-wild life) I’m now living in close proximity to. Of domesticated furred and feathered friends in residence, there are 3 dogs, 5 cats, 2 pet birds, 1 pet rabbit, 7 chickens, and 2 horses.

The wild birds and small furry creatures outside my windows are always entertaining when I need a break from unpacking boxes. In fact, I find them a distraction from getting serious work done, and my camera is always close at hand. I have little experience with wildlife photography, and make no claims about the quality of these photos. In fact, most of them were shot through the front window. I’ve been recording them for my own amusement, and in some cases so that I could look them up and identify them later.

The birds and beasties below are just a sampling — there are many others I haven’t gotten on camera yet. And of course there are the ones that “got away” . . . like the roadrunner I surprised in my front yard a couple of evenings ago. I’m not sure which of us was more surprised, actually. I knew there were some in the area, but never expected to see one 20 feet away in my own front yard. Since I had only stepped out to retrieve the jar of sun tea, I didn’t have my camera in my hands. But there’s always the next time!


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Out to Pasture

Golden Hour

I’ve hinted around a bit that there are going to be some changes in my life. I will be retiring at the end of April, and a month after that, I will be moving from Southern Maine to Southern California. I am anticipating my retirement with unadulterated delight. I’ve always been one who has worked to live, not the other way around. To have the time to pursue all of my many interests, including photography, is my idea of bliss.

The moving part of this scenario is a bit more complicated. I’m excited about the new prospect in front of me, but at the same time, I’m leaving behind much that is precious. It will be wrenching to move so far away from friends and family that I love dearly, and from this beautiful, unique place that has felt like home since the first time I saw it.

This is not the first time I have uprooted myself and moved far from the known and familiar. I am a native Californian and grew up in the West, so in a way this is a return to my roots. I will be moving close to others who are dear to me, and I’ll make new friends; I always do. (That doesn’t make parting from the old ones any easier, though.)

I’m moving from a small town here to a small town there, and I’m looking forward to exploring that community, getting to know people, and finding ways to get involved. And, of course, finding new subjects to photograph.

My new home will be very different. Instead of a river flowing past my windows, I will be gazing at this:

New Morning

Instead of seagulls and mallards, there’ll be hawks and quail.

Callipepla californica

Instead of buying eggs at the health food store across from my office, I’ll be collecting them myself from the hens that laid them.

The Girls

Instead of a rented apartment, I will be living in my own little cottage next door to my sister and her husband. It has a patio, and a garden, and an apple tree right outside my bedroom window.

Green Delicious

And a fireplace. A real fireplace! The whole cottage has been freshly painted in my choice of paint, and is just sitting there waiting for me to come and make it home.

I will miss my ocean sunrises. But I’ll have mountain sunsets to look forward to. And stars like I haven’t seen since I was a child.

And the Sun Sank Slowly . . . .

And there will still be an ocean. It will be farther away — an hour and a half instead of fifteen minutes — but close enough so I can visit when I’m feeling parched for the sight and sound of my beloved sea.

Atlantic Morning

Pacific Afternoon

The “Sea” in my name will be a different one, but I will still be me, and I’ll still be here.

Adventure awaits!