Poppies, revisited far, far away…
Dreams of Fields
The very first set of poppies were taken in Bethania, NC at the home of gardening friend, in May, 2009, and you can see them if you dig back into the archives of this blog. My friend has a magic touch for color and design that stupefied me as I looked at them for the first time, and I spent two lovely early morning hours photographing them with my 200mm macro lens.
Several days ago I was in Provence, near Sault, looking for elusive lavender sitting in the fields, not yet in bloom. Here was a farmer’s field with wild European poppies instead, and they were equally enchanting. The challenge was the whipping wind, so I tried soft focusing instead of using my macro lens. With a 80-400 lens and a borrowed Canon D 500 focusing filter, I started to learn a new technique. There’s lots more to learn, but isn’t that the name of the game with photography? Using the focusing filter, the challenge is to get something sharp, sort of like a Lensbaby, I guess. I know two things that I’ll be ordering from B&H when I get home, the filter and a ring flash.
The Actuality of Actuations
Look in the Nikon manual, and there’s no mention, at least in the index, of “actuations.” Look on dictionary.com and there are no definitions. Go to Ask Jeeves and there are the beginnings of an explanation. An actuation is the actual shutter click, every single one, that your camera makes. I learned this the hard way last week in trying to sell my wonderful Nikon D 3 camera on Ebay.
Stupid me. I thought an actuation was the count number of pictures in files on my computer. Not so. So, in trying to sell my camera, I inadvertently gave the wrong “actuation count.” The guy who “bought my camera” has informed me of the error of my ways, and has asked for $550 back from our agreed upon fee. Right now I’m in limbo waiting to see if he wants the camera, or wants to return it to me. That camera was an extension of me. To him, it’s just a machine, perhaps a defective one in his eyes. He has until Wednesday to decide my fate. I feel so empty.
I love photography, I loved that camera, I have loved the promise of digital photography and the learning curve it takes to be a good photographer. I loved the fact that with a digital camera, I could take all the pictures I wanted to take. There is no film. I could just delete the bad shots. But now I’ve learned, for every shot I’ve taken, especially the bad ones, I must now pay the price.
I am struggling to rediscover the art and beauty after this most clinical of weeks. I have a new camera, and as I took some shots this morning, I felt a need to ration them. But just for a while. Why?
Last night we bought two new trees, a Nutall Oak that will grow 100 feet and far outlive me. The other tree? It’s an apricot, with the most beautiful blossoms, giving the first promise of spring after a very long winter. The tree, still lying sideways in the truck this morning, just beckoned me to photograph it. And so I did, perhaps 100 times. A tiny bit of the beauty and joy photography brings to my life, returned. I only wish that the new camera will have the soul of the oak tree, and the longevity, too. I do know that it can capture the beauty of the apricot tree, but with decreasing actuations.
The Old Red Barn
A family gathering in front of the homestead
Little did I know when my friend Carol told me about her husband’s family homestead that it would be a photographer’s dream!
Carol’s husband’s ancestors were among the first founders of Bethania, a Moravian settlement on the outskirts of Winston-Salem. The Moravians tried unsuccessfully to settle in Georgia first, and then moved to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, along with settlements in New Jersey and Maryland. In 1753, the first North Carolina settlement was established in Bethabara, followed by Bethania and Salem. The skeleton of the city of Winston-Salem was laid out.
The family history is fascinating. After settling in as a miller, Carol’s husband’s ancestor built a gristmill near Muddy Creek, a part of Forsyth county. Later on, in the 1800s, a fever epidemic caused him to drain his pond to please his neighbors! One William Leinbach moved to the property from nearby Salem and built a new log home, which is part of what still remains of the property. There must have been a wedding involved here. The family farm was built on a raised hill, above what was a familiar landmark in town for years and years, a farm tools company.
I am currently enrolled in a photography portfolio class at Better Photo. My teacher, William Neill, is an inspiring instructor and famous photographer. He won’t allow his students to be complacent, and old pictures just don’t meet his approval. Originally I had considered building a portfolio either of shots of the Blue Ridge or of the coast of North Carolina. This is not the winter to be going back to add to the portfolio. Last time I checked, most of the Blue Ridge Parkway was closed due to snow and other weather. The coast is even getting snow this weekend! So…a local theme just evolved.
I have visited the farm three times in the past 3 weeks, originally as the first flakes were starting of the “big snow.” It was a cold Friday afternoon after school. The next morning I raced to my car at dawn, envisioning fantastic shots in the newly fallen snow. After realizing how dangerous the conditions were, I barely made it home, my tail between my legs. It was Monday before I got out again, thanks to a school SNOWDAY! Many of the first shots were my favorites. Just two days ago, Winston-Salem was surprised by a very light dusting of snow, and I went back again. It was magical, perhaps bolstered by a little history lesson from Carol.
I look forward to a warm summer’s night for another visit, this time at sunset.
The remains of the old homestead
The old red barn
Home on the hill
Detail
Homestead and barn in background
Icicles by the barn
Locked forever
From the most recent snow, another angle
“Old Dogs, Children, and Watermelon Wine”
As a school teacher, I have plenty of children right at hand. Watermelon wine doesn’t sound too appealing; I tried pomegranate wine once and it was unmemorable. But…old dogs is my specialty. Boy, do we ever have old dogs! Two goofy golden retrievers, each with nagging physical problems.
Lester is 11, and Earl (the girl) is 10. Lester came to us first. He’s named for Lester Flatt. Earl was next, and we overlooked, as much as we could, the fact that she’s a girl! She’s named for Earl Scruggs. Yes, bluegrass is, or used to be a huge part of our collective lives. Her name was obvious to us even before we bought her.
Lester has a very strange skin problem, called granuloma. Granuloma happens when a neurotic dog licks himself incessantly…usually in the middle of the night, preferably while he’s lying on your bed. If you want to be enlightened, do a google search of granuloma. It’s not a cause, but rather, an affectation. A bad one. Poor Lester used to have the best fur in town. Now he has very little, and parts of him look like hamburger. It isn’t pretty.
Earl is way too fat. In the summer she’s a total jock, and will swim for hours on end. Last summer, she lost 6 pounds just through athletic pursuits. This winter she’s bulked up with our frozen environment here in North Carolina, and from finishing Lester’s food, which he abandons in preference to licking himself. Earl has $900 designer dog fur. After listening to her pant at night from under her furry self- blanket (while Lester was licking) we decided a week ago to have her shorn, so she now looks like a lab, not a golden. Then we noticed that she had a giant bulge on her under side, a scary sight. A trip to the vet assured us that she isn’t dying, just has a fatty area. The vet said she could have liposuction, for $500, and then a tummy tuck! It isn’t likely. Seriously.
A week ago I had a big photography assignment, and I had lofty ideas of going out and photographing a beautiful red barn in the snow. Problem was, I was tired after Lester’s licking all night and there were accumulated snowflakes. Driving was more treacherous than I could have imagined. All those years living in Buffalo gave me an inflated ego about my snow driving capabilities. It was a day off from school, and I had an idea that the red barn would be perfect with that new blanket of snow. Bad idea. I got stuck at a busy intersection and after 10 minutes of trying to free myself, I crept home, feeling humiliated. It was only 7 AM.
A Family Portrait
For the next 2 days I took pictures of Lester and Earl. Here are just a few. Notice their wonderful masks of white on their muzzles. A man who replaces watch batteries at the mall told me never to bring all my watches in at the same time. Seems that the batteries will all expire again at about the same time two years later. I worry that both dogs are ageing out at the same rate, and I am already getting sad, but both dogs have had a momentary reprieve. Let summer come!
Geneva at the New Year
We’ve been home for a month and a half, but the memory of Geneva has been filling up my hard drive ever since. The city is remarkable in every way: clean, prosperous, and inspiring. I just have to share some shots, despite the fact that it was misty and raining, sometimes quite dramatically. Snow and skiing never worked out during the two weeks in the Jura, but I would go back in a heartbeat. I feel certain that we will in the not too distant future. It must be my Swiss heritage bubbling to the surface.
Ominous skies and rain
Marzipan and chocolate good luck pigs for 2010
Lac Leman
One of the bridges
A Swiss clock
Holiday lights
Surrounding mountains
A five star hotel...or is it 4?
Swiss chocolates
Party lights of Geneva after dark
Chamonix, Mt. Blanc and the Mer de Glace
The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and it was time to venture out on a “village perche” trek after so many days of Christmas in our beautiful rented house. My true love gave to me the driving to Chamonix, while I sat and took pictures of the Alps at fairly high speed (both in the camera and from the Daewoo).
Driving into Chamonix was simply spectacular, and it was such fun to see the mountains in the winter time after summers of watching melting snow. There are mountains on both sides of the road, and it’s hard to know where to focus.
From the highway, with a wide angle lens
The first thing that struck us was how much colder it was, and after lunch we put on long underwear…a really good idea. The trip up the train was crowded and fast, and after passing the ski area, we began to notice that many of the pine trees seemed to be in distress. Is it the result of acid rain or something else?
Chamonix
Downtown Chamonix
Sick pine trees
At the top, the views are breathtaking, but the glacier has been shrinking drastically in my lifetime. The first time I visited the Mer de Glace was in 1966. From the top, looking down, it’s obviously reduced in size. After checking out the top spot and all the vistas, we descended on the tele cabine, and then began the 350 step descent to the bottom. I secretly laughed at the people passing on their way up who seemed to be panting. There were people carrying their dogs in arms. It wouldn’t have been easy with Lester and Earl, golden retrievers, but little poofy French dogs do well being carried. Still, while missing Bella, the wonderful wonder dog, we were glad that she as at home visiting her friend Phoebe.
Looking down from the top
Another family portrait
Summit
Previous line of the glacier
Climbers
Entrance to the cave
At the bottom (it takes some time to climb down 350 steps) we realized that we would have to hurry in the glacier caves, since the last ascent of the tele cabine is at 4:00, and it was then 3:30, with 350 steps to climb first.
The color show inside the glacier is fast paced and I was so happy to have a camera that can shoot at 5000 ISO. There is an ice fireplace, and a polar bear sculpture, and I admired the guy taking pictures using his tripod. I certainly didn’t envy him his trip back up those steps.
In the cave
Polar bear sculpture
Light at the end of the tunnel
All too soon, it was time to leave so as not to be stranded on the mountain. As you can imagine, the trip up, with snow, cold and camera gear was difficult, yet exhilarating.
At the risk of sounding political, it is truly frightening to see what has become of the Mer de Glace in my lifetime. It is still awe inspiring, but there is something funereal about signs we saw along the way: the lack of very much snow, the sick pine trees and the glacier itself.
Farges, France: A Holiday Tale, Week One
Who would have thought that when we “bought” two weeks in a French house at Christmas last April, that December 19th would finally arrive? From the abstract to the sublime, it finally is now!
It all began with a rushed driving trip from Winston-Salem to Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C. despite all kinds of weather warnings. As it worked out, the blizzard hit the east coast within hours of our departure. Whew!
Geneva was really cold when we landed, and we found about three inches of snow in France when we arrived at our fantastic house, complete with beautiful Christmas decorations and wonderful dog, Bella. It had always been lonely on trips before without a resident canine, so we’ve been in heaven with a small bed/ lap dog. We’re cozily settled in with a fire in the fireplace, but alas, probably no skiing.
Savoy cabbage
Snowy scene
Annecy shopping
Romanian cabbage
Swans of Annecy
Purple Christmas lights in Annecy
More purple lights
Lac d'Annecy
Buche de Noel
Sunrise at home
Bella, wonder dog
You CAN Go Home Again!
In two months’ time, we have gone from home in North Carolina to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, Kent/Northumberland, England, San Francisco/Berkeley, California and New Haven, Connecticut. All of it was wonderful, full of laughter and family and friends and way too much food. It has been a busy whirlwind of old times and new times, of special time with our grown up children and grandgirls, and visits with our mentors. There were obligations along the way, but wonderful activities that we just had to be part of. The days began to feel as if they were spinning out of control.
So…what to do about it, with a week of summer vacation to go before teaching, for each of us? The beach, Sunset Beach, here in our home state of North Carolina beckoned to our long term memories, and amazingly, there was a house, a small bargain house, just waiting to be rented at the last minute.
The instant we got out of our car and smelled the salt air and felt the penetrating sun on our backs, we knew that we had done the right thing. The familiarity after ten years’ absence has been amazing. All of the trips over the years to exotic and foreign places have been remarkable, but we had forgotten about the value of being close to home.
Stairway to Heaven
Sunset Beach Pier at dawn
Pier with Egyptian design
Gone fishing
Sunrise at Sunset
Marsh grass in back of our house
Sun Worshipper
Of course, we miss our family of old when Sage and John came with us, and sometimes brought their buddies here. We have reminisced about the shared dinners and the used up hot water, but right now we’re reveling in working on course syllabi and catching up on books and emails and camera manuals without any responsibilities. Best of all, after a summer of new beds every few days, we’ve totally relearned how to relax.
We CAN go home, and we did. North Carolinians tend to explain away their summers by apologetically saying, “We’re just going to the beach this summer.” JUST the beach?
Summer is Winding Down, Isn’t It?
This has been the summer of birds, bikes, brides and brilliance. It is with real sadness that I realize the days are getting shorter, and school’s right on the horizon, but the start up of every school year is magical and exhilarating. I’m just not ready…yet!
Since my last blog about birds, the bird theme has continued. Last week we traveled to Berkeley and San Francisco to visit John and Mattie. While climbing down from Coit Tower, high up on Telegraph Hill, we heard the famous wild parrots. They even flew over the tops of our heads, but it was impossible to take a picture before they were gone, elusive as they must be. Sorry Homer, I couldn’t capture your cousins, as much as I wanted to.
A Family Portrait at the beach
There were brides in our hotel, the wonderful Claremont Resort in Berkeley, and we saw at least three wedding receptions getting in gear in the lobby. I celebrated once again that I’m not a wedding photographer! There were plenty of them all around, looking stressed and serious.
Bikes began the summer with the Ironman in Coeur d’Alene, and bikes, highly stylized ones, were a big part of the four days in California. John, our son, is a journalist and video producer, and he had an important job on Saturday, to videotape and report on a Scraper Bike celebration. The video is finished as of today, and instead of me reporting about it, you must, dear reader, travel through this link to that experience. Mattie (a talented photographer) and I got out our cameras, and our shots are used in John’s video, but it’s his moving shots and music that “make” the experience. I’m in awe of the job he did with this, all while holding a video camera and skating backwards on inline skates. Consider carrying a borrowed video camera worth thousands of dollars on skates… I guess journalists do whatever it takes to get the story, whatever the story.
http://www.streetfilms.org/archives/scraper-bikes/
Other highlights of the trip were a trip to Sonoma, including a visit to a wine tasting, and the giant redwood trees in Armstrong State Park.
Nap under the redwoods
On our last full day, Billy went to Mattie’s French class, where I’m sure he talked too much, and I went to Link TV with John, where I watched him get covered in makeup, and then make a videotape asking for money (some things never change!!!!!)
Asking for money at Link TV
The last night, we took John and Mattie to a four star vegan restaurant in San Francisco, called Millennium, where we celebrated their second anniversary with organic vodka and organic espresso and amazing vegetables and grains. My starter was Fried Green Tomatoes with spicy Creole remoulade, arugula, roasted corn and leek confit salad. Main course was Mediterranean Stuffed Ronde de Nice Squash with bulgur, beluga lentil and walnut farce, sautee of roasted cherry tomato, zucchini and English peas, za’atar spiced tahini cucumber pickle, cardamom and parsley zhug, crisp capers and fried squash blossoms. It was an amazing experience. It certainly eclipsed tofurki. What a wonderful restaurant!
Blueberry glazed smoked tempeh
Seared Potato Scallion Cake
Mediterranean Stuffed Ronde de Nice Squash
Oh, to be starving grad students again…Or, perhaps not starving, after all…
Move Over, Alfred Hitchcock: A Bird Tale
Well, it’s been a whole week since the Farne Island experience in Northeast England. “See puffins, terns, seagulls and other nesting birds,” the brochure read. Oh boy, I thought, I’ll take my longest lens, convince my landloving husband to ride on a small boat across rough seas to Inner Farne, natural habitat and bird sanctuary just off the shores of Bamburgh, Northumberland. There will be amazing photo opportunities, a sort of secret place that no one has ever heard of. And, the National Trust keeps it protected from too many tourists, since it’s kind of expensive. I could hardly sleep the night before (actually, that was the case the whole trip!) and I was thrilled in the morning to find sunshine early.
Our boat left at 12:15, allowing us time until the 1:30 opening time on Inner Farne to cruise around seals and the other uninhabited islands in the Farne group. I thought I was so smart with my camera loaded with a 400mm lens, albeit not a great birding lens. We even carried my tripod, a big pain. I should have known, as I looked around the boat, that other people had the same idea. There was a golden couple, the most attractive travelers I’d seen, armed with huge Canon cameras, hiking boots and warm looking parkas. They were Australians, on an 8 week holiday in England and Turkey. The economy must be better in Australia than in the States, I concluded quickly to myself. But, they sure look like they know what they’re doing, I decided.
After circumnavigating the less significant islands, seeing the begging seals and noticing the smell of guano of the seagulls and razorbills, and guillemots, we finally approached Inner Farne. There were four or five other boats in the harbor, but still no alarms were going off in my head. “Wear your hats, everyone,” the boat captain warned us, as we approached the dock.
A view of the cliffs from the boat
The handsome dock hand
An incredibly handsome dock hand greeted us, and told us to be careful not to step on any just hatched baby chicks on the walkways. The nesting terns were in the middle of the hatching season. That was an understatement. Babies were everywhere, as were their stressed and divebombing parents, who aimed directly for our heads and expensive camera equipment.
Tern chick
Hatchlings emerging
Protective parent hovering over the nest
Tern dinner
It took 30 seconds to realize that a major photography workshop (s) were/was going on there on Inner Farne. There were huge tripods and camera lenses covered in camouflage that must cost $10,000! Pride goeth before a fall, I realized, and how insignificant and amateurish I am. I couldn’t even figure out where to try to aim my camera, what with 100 photographers in a very small space, and baby chicks underfoot, and shrieking nesting terns crashing against my head. My husband quickly disappeared, and I wondered if he’d been knocked out by a stressed bird. In fact, when I finally found him, he claimed to be cold, and I began to notice that a blue sky was turning to no color, and then gray at the horizon. At least we aren’t dealing with summer midday sun, I thought.
Wandering up the path, after enduring aerial assaults constantly, there was suddenly a sort of clearing, and then the puffin area! What comic relief. I even tried to ignore the man with the huge lens and a Nikon Professional shirt. I wondered who he is…someone really famous?
The Sigmund Freud model
Very quickly I realized that setting up the tripod would take time on those rocks, and I had forgotten the hex wrench and the foot on my lens was loose. It wasn’t a good time to have an argument with my spouse, who goes through life trying to fix things, especially since the clock was ticking and I only had half an hour left. So, hand held it was going to be, despite his loud protestations. Besides, I didn’t want Mr. Nikon Professional to even notice me.
The island was basically stone, but it was covered with weeds and there were small holes everywhere, which was shelter and egg hatching ground for the puffins.
Sand eels for dinner
Three Little Puffins
Group conversation
Odd Man Out
The weeds became beautiful over the hour or so we were on the island, and the Queen Anne’s Lace and thistles and chicory provided color in an otherwise colorless environment. Most amazing of all was a small church on Inner Farne, an ancient church, with beautiful strained glass and carved pews. What a juxtaposition of nature and culture in a tiny hostile place!
Church on Inner Farne with mist coming in
An unlikely place for stained glass
Ancient church
The guide on the boat over said that a banded puffin from Inner Farne had shown up in New South Wales, Australia. Is that possible? Had I been a bird on Inner Farne, I probably would have looked for a new house, too, what with the overpopulation of avians.
Looking back, I would have done things differently, specifically I would have tried to isolate the puffins more successfully, since a whole field of puffins gives the viewer a difficult time of where to look. I would have changed lenses to my 70-200 midway through, since getting up close to birds wasn’t a problem. Ha! Hardly! They got REALLY close. I would have worn a hardhat, and I would have changed apertures with great abandon. It was an amazing experience.
Just before we got back on the boat, we had to walk through the minefield again of terns. My husband acted totally unfazed by a particularly aggressive tern, and even stuck out his hand and thumb in an uncomplicated gesture showing his lack of fear. I realized at that moment that Billy was missing Homer, his African Grey parrot.
Hat's off to this experience
I have no problem with this
Napoleon did this
There must be something intellectual about this
Oh dear. If Joni could see this...
Head scratch
Homer plays this game with me...
Farne Island sentinel
The trip back to the mainland was shrouded in grey mist, and as we closed the doors of the rented car, the skies opened up. Didn’t the birds find cover in the driving rain?
