Atypical serious face

Is there such a thing as love at first sight?

Psychologists at Syracuse University claim that it takes only a fifth of a second to fall in love.  Elvis Presley told us that “Wise men say, only fools rush in…” Whatever. All I can say is “I can’t help falling in love again.” Thank you, Elvis.

Since my last blog in November, there has been something missing around the homefront, despite squawking, talking parrots and Earl, the girl, who has slowed down enormously since Lester departed this earth.

We joined the Triad Golden Retriever Rescue Group just days after Lester’s demise, but only half-heartedly. There have been many goldens up for adoption, but not one seemed just right until we received an email a week ago asking if we were still in the looking stage for a new, young dog. There was just something in the tone of the email, a hint of excitement, that made me respond, “Just maybe.”

The next day, last Saturday, we drove the 40 minutes to Greensboro and met “Charlie.” The connection was instantaneous.

We have now had Conway (aka“Charlie”) for four days and he already makes us laugh and slow down to pet him, and speed up to play with him. Although it’s only been four days, we already love him, because in his goofy golden way, he demands it.

He’s so tall, we don’t have to bend down to pet him, so long that he’s been described as a Georgia freight train, and so strong that we’ve been knocked into furniture and walls as Conway shows his enthusiasm for life. All of that just feels so normal.

Lots of people have told us that having a new dog perks up the older one. We’re not sure about Earl’s opinion of this upstart, but she’s observing the new jolt of energy and joy at home. Earl is counting the days until she can teach Conway how to swim, when the pool temperature reaches 60 degrees or so. We are reveling in the joy a puppy, albeit it a two year old, can bring us, as a hint of spring is in the air.

Daffodils

Staring at the Pool

2 year old gawkiness

When I found Ralph, a half starved freezing cold nearly hairless Irish setter, and brought him home, we found that he was indeed a canine of the ‘60s: he had hallucinogenic dreams and thought he could fly, from second story windows.  He and Carter made great barking music together.

Next was a biter, Celeste, and we had to hide her from the front door because she would great visitors with a cute expression and wagging tail,  and then chomp.  Celeste was named for Queen Celeste in the Babar books, but she wasn’t regal at all.

She was followed by Porter (Wagoner) and Dolly (Parton), another stray. Porter liked to break out through the front door, and it was said that he was the creator of a cute litter of puppies in the next neighborhood. Dolly was a lovely golden with a wonderful personality, but poor dog, she suffered from seizures her whole life with us.

It was in summer of 1999 that we found Lester (Flatt) in Davidson Country (home of the infamous Sheriff Hege, of the pink jails). A wise friend told us to pick a pup from the litter with a laid back personality, and not the friendliest and most aggressive one. North Carolina summers are hot, and Lester, 6 week old pup that he was, was sleeping in a cinderblock. Literally, in the hole. We knew he had to be ours.

As a youngster, Lester loved Shark, our grand dog who often came to visit. Lester would try to clamp onto Shark’s chocolate lab side, much to our chagrin. We took Lester to obedience school, where he was trained with a very well behaved pit bull. Lester would attack the pit bull with great energy, while I hid my eyes and my heart pounded! After I got over my fear of this strange training, I realized that teaching Lester not to jump was hopeless.

And jump he did, mostly into his beloved swimming pool, as many times in a day as we would throw the ball. Lester and Earl lived to swim.  They would let the grandes climb on their backs and travel, like dolphins, to the other end of the pool. Over and over and over.

A very young Vivi and Lester, engaged in a ball game

Swimming with dogs

Tennis, anyone?

Pearly gates are calling

Lester at his best

We knew as summer waned that Lester was hurting, but as long as he could swim, he was enthusiastic. How we dreaded autumn!

If you go back in this blog to last February, I wrote the love story of Lester and Earl (the girl).

November is a cruel month. Yesterday, after 11 and a half years of energy, bliss and joy, Lester left this earth, but only after surveying his yard one more time and his beloved swimming pool.

Winter has struck this household early.

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.

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.

With a touch of Topaz Simplify

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

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!

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.

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