Scene & Story: July 2017

Damsel Fly on Daylily

Once upon a time — well, actually, it was just a few years ago, but I love stories that start with “once upon a time,” don’t you? — anyway, once upon a time, an Older Lady (about 60-something) and a Small Boy (about 6) had a conversation while walking around her back yard.

Lady:  Look, a dragonfly.

Boy:  Aunt Lon, may I tell you something?

Lady:  Of course.

Boy:  Would you like to know an easy way to tell the difference between a dragonfly and a damselfly?

Lady:  Yes, how can you tell the difference?

Boy:  When you see one resting, if its wings are opened flat, it’s a dragonfly. If its wings are folded together over its back, it’s a damselfly.

Lady:  Oh, so this is a damselfly. That’s good to know. Thank you!

Boy:  You’re welcome.

I’ve never forgotten how to tell the difference between a dragonfly and a damselfly, and I never see one without remembering this conversation. Not so much because of what the boy said, as the way he said it. So polite, so careful and kind in sharing his knowledge to correct the lady.

Time darts and spins and flies as fast as any dragonfly. That formerly small boy will start high school this fall, and I know he will do well. I’m as proud as ever to be his honorary aunt.

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Click here for the Scene & Story link-up at Paisley Rain Boots.

Scene & Story is a monthly collaborative creation that Sarah Huizenga of Paisley Rain Boots and I dreamt up to encourage one another in our photography and writing. We’d love to have you join us! Share a favorite photo from the previous month along with a short story or description and link up your blog or Flickr photo. 

Scene & Story: December 2016

Balance

There she stands, that little squirrel, poised and ready to leap. Focused, concentrated, intent upon her destination, the next branch, the next tasty bud. I wonder if she enjoys the leap, that brief moment of flying through the air. I wonder if her tiny heart beats a little faster in anticipation of the launch.

I’d like to be as focused on my next move and as sure of my goals as this little creature, but human lives tend to be more complicated. What do I want to accomplish this year? What do I want to learn, do, create? What do I want to be? To become?

I ponder these questions as I stand poised on the edge of the unknown, at the start of a new year, another new beginning. My heart beats faster in anticipation of the launch. And I hope for moments that will feel like flying.

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It’s official, we have a linkup!
You can find it at Sarah’s Paisley Rain Boots blog.

**Scene & Story is a collaborative effort between myself and Sarah of Paisley Rain Boots. We encourage you to share a favorite photo from the previous month along with a short story or description and link up your blog or Flickr photo. Please remember to visit the other story sharers and leave a little love everywhere you visit.

Turn, Turn, Turn

This song keeps running through my head: To everything (turn, turn, turn) there is a season (turn, turn, turn) and a time for every purpose under Heaven. My favorite season has just begun. Fall always makes me feel a bit melancholy, yet excited and happy about the changes and new beginnings that always seem to hum in the air at this time of year.

Misty Morning  21/365

The last day of summer dawned cloudy and cool, with fog veiling the mountains. By mid-morning it had burned off, leaving a clear blue sky and a sun already shifting to the south. The air is cooler but the light itself seems to have a warmer, more golden quality even at midday.

Watcher

A few flora are flourishing despite the drought:

Yellow Spiny Daisy

Mystery Aster

California Buckwheat 23/365

Fauna are frolicking in the cooler weather:

Kickin’ It Up

The Bunny Hop

Fall visitors are coming back:

Woodpeckers and Finches and Sparrows, Oh My!

I’ve seen male and female Nuttall’s Woodpeckers here before, but only one at a time. I was really excited to spot this pair in our Charlie Brown tree on the first day of fall.

Right on Cue

This little guy, the first of the season, showed up the same day, just hours after I said to my daughter, “I hope the White-Crowned Sparrows come back soon.” They winter over here but leave in spring to spend the summer elsewhere — probably somewhere cooler, if they are at all sensible. I haven’t seen one since April. I don’t know why I like them so much. They sing the same few notes over and over, but it always makes me smile to hear it.

And last but not least, the apples have been harvested. We had plenty of help:

But we did manage to salvage a few for ourselves.

Last of the Harvest  22/365

At the beginning of September I began a 365 project, my first, with a small group of online friends. It has so far truly been a gift of grace, keeping my interest in photography up even while other concerns are occupying much of my thoughts and time. I thought I might feel intimidated by the group, whose work I already knew and admired, but instead I’m loving it! I’m being inspired and uplifted every day by their photography, while learning to look wider and go deeper with my own. I can’t think of a better new beginning for this fall.

Photo-Heart Connection: August 2013

Nest

This is one of the images from my every-day-in-August series that I wrote about in my last post. Towards the end of the month, it occurred to me that most of my photos so far had been taken outside, so I looked around the living room for potential subjects. I’m not much for setting up still lifes, so I wanted a subject I could shoot as-is, in available light.

Aha! The bookcase. My little bird’s nest under glass. Last year, when I discovered this little domed glass dish with a perky little bird perched on top, I just had to buy it. Inside it I keep a little nest that I found on a walk during my first visit here four years ago. It’s woven from grass and pine needles and tiny twigs, and lined with something coarse and fuzzy like raw wool. The eggs in the nest are from my sister’s cockatiel, who tries to make babies a couple of times a year even though she has no mate.

The resulting photo made me happy the moment I saw it. What surprised me about this picture is how real and three-dimensional the background appears. The rock and ferns are actually one of my own photographs, printed on canvas, which leans against the back of the bookcase. The light in that print seems to be coming from the same direction as the light from the window reflected on the glass, melding the two separate elements into a whole that enhances both of them.

This photograph combines a bit of my life in Maine (the photo on canvas) with my life here in California (the glass dome and nest), illustrating and expressing my love of nature, birds, and, of course, photography. It has enabled me to see a little collection of familiar odds and ends in a new way that makes me appreciate them even more. It reminds me to savor the small, simple things that bring me joy and connect my heart to the everyday world around me.

Linking with Kat Sloma’s Photo-Heart Connection for August.

That Sixth Sense

I’m still busy Finding My Eye over here. Next lesson: recognizing intuition. I’m finding this a hard assignment, which is odd, since I think of myself as an intuitive photographer. I seldom go out to take photographs with a goal in mind, but just meander along until something “speaks” to me and I think, “Yes! Try to catch that!”

But is that really intuition? When I take my eyes from the glorious color of the autumn foliage and look down at my feet at exactly the right moment to notice this:

Leaf Loop

. . . is that intuition or just a lucky chance? I still remember my excitement when I spotted it. Perhaps it was my intuition that told me it was a good subject for me. Perhaps a different photographer’s intuition would have told him to just keep walking.

I sometimes wonder whether what appears to be a “sixth sense” is simply the result of paying attention to information received, perhaps subliminally, by the usual five senses. A bit of barely-glimpsed motion or color that causes me to look in a certain direction, or a whisper of sound or scent that makes me turn around. But perhaps it’s intuition that tells me to pay attention to that hint of sensory stimulation.

When something tells me a subject would probably make a good photograph, is it intuition or just experience? In fact, Psychology Today’s website has this to say about intuition:

We think of intuition as a magical phenomenon—but hunches are formed out of our past experiences and knowledge.

My past experiences and knowledge tell me to continue seeking out places where the subjects that tug at my heart are likely to be found. My intuition nudges me to keep walking, just a little farther, just around one more bend, and look right over there. . . .

So glad I came this way!

Scavenging the Yard

Had to go on the Sunday Scavenger Hunt today. It’s a great distraction from the wind, which is driving me to distraction. Wind is my least favorite kind of weather. It blows here a lot, but usually doesn’t bother me. Today it’s got me a bit on edge.

Let’s think about something else and go hunting. This week’s targets were Yellow, Getting Ready, Bright, Teeny Tiny, and Connections.

Yellow:

Eye of the Beholder

I found this tiny “weed” blooming all by itself early one morning and thought it a lucky way to start the day.

Getting Ready:

Rest Stop

This beautiful bird is pausing for a drink, getting ready to head off to wherever. I believe it’s a female Nutall’s Woodpecker. My bird book says it’s “uncommon.” This is not its normal habitat, so for me, it was a truly special sighting. Please pardon the pink and green blurs — I was shooting from my desk, through the window, between the branches of the crape myrtle, which was blowing back and forth. Yup, it was windy that day, too.

Bright:

Rose Red

This rose’s blossoms are only a couple of inches across, but it’s the brightest, most vivid red I’ve ever seen. The camera hardly does it justice.

Teeny Tiny:

Eensy Weensy Spider

Luckily for me, and for it, this tiny spider was posing for me on the outside of the window glass. His body was barely a quarter of an inch long, and resembled a small freshwater pearl.

Connections:

Two-birds of Happiness

This pair of Western Bluebirds has been here all summer. I’ve also spotted a couple of juveniles that could be their offspring, though I can’t know for sure. It pleases me to think of the connections of this little bluebird family. When they spread their wings and fly into the sunshine, they are like pieces of the sky.

The common theme of all these images is the connection that I feel to all the wild things around me here. They are a distraction, too, but in the very best way!

Linking with Ashley’s Ramblings and Photos for Scavenger Hunt Sunday. Thanks, Ashley!

Photo-Heart Connection: February

Collection=Connection

Finding the photograph from February that spoke to my heart was not an easy assignment. Due to weather, work, and various other constraints, I didn’t take many photos in February. I didn’t want to use one I’d already posted before. What was left?

This is one I took for Scavenger Hunt Sunday a few weeks ago, but didn’t use. It’s a little vignette in a corner of a bookcase, a part of what I think of as my natural history shelf. These objects speak of my love of nature and wildlife. And each of them holds other memories, as well.

The two little birds and the frog are hand-carved from found wood by an artist in Eastport, Maine. My daughter and I visited “Downeast” for a week each summer for several years, and each piece commemorates something notable about the trip when it was purchased — the summer we saw flocks of goldfinches, the year the frogs in the pond serenaded us all night long, the time the woods were full of flitting chickadees.

The two small black books are from 1920, field guides to Western Birds and Western Flowers “of the Rockies and West to the Pacific.” They belonged to my grandparents-in-law, and there are penciled notes in the margins where they recorded dates and places of sightings. I’ve even added a few of my own over the years, and those bring back memories too, of other places lived, and long-ago camping trips when my children were young.

The white shadow box in the back contains treasures from closer to home: small shells and beach pebbles, tiny pine cones, a bit of driftwood, a moth’s wing. Just junk, I suppose, but precious to me.

Whenever I look at the objects on this shelf, I am reminded of my connections — and of my need to stay connected — to nature, to family, to my history, to the wider world around me and to my own inner self . . . to my heart. And that, dear friends, is exactly why I take photographs.

Linking to Kat Sloma’s Photo-Heart Connection at Kat Eye Studio. Come check it out – and even join in!

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Retracing My Steps

I just wrote a whole post about how disappointed I was in the photos I took on Sunday, when I repeated Saturday’s camera-less photo walk with my camera.

Then I picked out a few pictures that were sort of tolerable, and started working with them, and decided that maybe I liked them more than I thought.

So here they are, to speak for themselves.

Doesn’t look like a promising start to a nature walk, does it?

But it does get better.

You can sit here . . .

. . . and gaze at the town on the other side of the river . . .

. . . or imagine who might live in this hole.

Here’s that mushroom I told you about . . .

. . . and some really beautiful birch trunks.

A lovely lookout point, another good spot to pause . . .

. . . to appreciate another view.

Edgy red

Leaf rainbow

Grass seed

Softly colored woods

. . . and a single dead leaf to close this chapter.

(Almost) Photoless Photo Walk

So I took my camera-less photo walk for Kat’s class this afternoon. And let me admit, right up front, that I cheated. Just a tiny little bit.

Sorry, I had to do it.

I did NOT take my camera with me. I saw so many wonderful photo opportunities that, weather permitting, I’m going back tomorrow, with camera. But this sky was so strange! I knew it wouldn’t keep, so I grabbed it with my cell phone while I had the chance. Please forgive me — I couldn’t help myself.

Let me back up and start from the beginning. It was gray most of the day today. I didn’t want to drive anywhere. There’s a river walk that starts off pretty near my home. I’d heard that a local trails organization had done some work on the path, and I’ve been wanting to check it out. So I headed out this afternoon, thinking it would be a good opportunity to explore without getting sidetracked by stopping to take pictures every few steps.

I wasn’t expecting that much, honestly, because I’ve covered the area pretty thoroughly in the past. But the improvements to the trail were great! It used to be a scary scramble down a steep dirt path and over rocks, where it petered out a short distance later on a granite outcrop by the river. Now there are safe steps and handrails, lookout points, and the path continues on to join another farther up the road.

Some of the things I saw:

• At the beginning of the trail is a small hydroelectric dam that I’d like to try to shoot. There’s also a wall there absolutely covered in graffiti that might make for some interesting photos.
• A flash of vivid red leaves — just a few — caught my eye in a clump of otherwise drab foliage.
• Berries of many varieties and colors, from pale yellow to orange to fiery red to navy blue and black.
• A few remaining wildflowers.
• Some nice views of the town on the other side of the river.
• A boatyard with a number of vessels already shrink-wrapped and stored for the season.
• A variety of grasses and seed heads waving in the breeze.
• One beautiful golden mushroom. I regretted not having my camera for that, because I doubt it will look the same tomorrow.
• Remnants of old granite slab walls on the riverbank.
• A cormorant perched on a buoy, silhouetted against the sunstruck ripples of the river.

The path then left the river’s edge and joined a road that parallels the water. A sign informed me that it was a dead-end street, but much to my delight, though the street ended, the path continued. And that’s where it started to get really good!

I came upon a small, covered observation deck with a bench, where I sat for a time. The shrubs and trees were filled with the flittings and chirpings of small birds, something warbler-like. My son-in-law could have identified them, I’m sure, but all I know is that they were entrancing and made me smile.

And the view! I can’t wait to go back and try to capture and keep it. I already have it saved in my mind and heart, but I want to be able to share it.

On my way home, I stopped in my favorite local deli/wine shop on Main Street and picked up some homemade turkey stew for my dinner. While I was waiting, I looked around and thought that would be a great place to take some photographs, too. I plan to go back and ask if they’d mind if I try.

Overall, I have to say this was a much more satisfying experience than I expected it to be. I don’t think I’d have gotten as far or seen as much if I’d had my camera with me. And now I have the pleasure of having discovered new territory just a pleasant walk away from my front door, and the happy anticipation of exploring it all over again with camera in hand. That’s a win-win, for sure.

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Reflecting

I woke up to rain this morning, and a cool breeze billowing the curtains at my open windows. It’s a perfect day to tackle the final assignment in the introductory Find Your Eye course I’ve been taking:  to look through my  inspiration file and see what I can determine about my photographic style.

So, what can I learn from my own favorite photos?

What I see in my pictures is a reflection of my love of nature. There is, I think, a sense of solitude about them which is a reflection of my own nature. There is sky, water, trees, wildflowers, insects, birds, other small creatures.

There are images of the changing seasons.

I like details, texture, and color, from high contrast to subtle shadings.

There is man’s hand on the landscape, too, in buildings, fences, artifacts of various sorts. I’ve always been fascinated with shards and relics of the past. Again, it is often the details that capture my attention, the play of textures, or the way light and shadow define an angle.

What there is not…at least not much…is people. The people who appear in my photos seem usually to be a prop, a detail in a story, rather than the actual subject of the photo. Often they are strangers, in the distance, or out of focus. I am observing them, not interacting with them.

Nearly all of my photos are taken with natural light, and I do very little cropping or post-processing, except perhaps to straighten a horizon. One thing I have noticed through this class is that when I take a series of pictures of a subject, it is often the first image that makes the final cut. I’m not sure what that says about me or my photographic style!

I’ve really enjoyed this class, and am looking forward to continuing on to the next one.