Category Archives: nature

There is nothing …

like that moment when a locked box pops open.  When things that I thought I had no knowledge of became clear because there was a remnant of it somewhere in the recesses of my mind.  Something that had a familiarity about it, felt good, wholesome and real; that  lingered just beyond my grasp.

Having a key to open a lock is, for obvious reasons, optimal, but the key … who is to say, at any particular time, what that is?  As a photographer, I know a bit about light, shadow, depth and perspective, but in photography, the image is already there and I simply capture it.  It sometimes takes a great deal of work and, at times, planning and a hint of imagination; other times, it is just there.  Tonight, I found that I had the ability to capture another kind of image.  The one that lives in my head.  The one I can’t see with my eyes until I actually create it.  It was the closest thing I can imagine to writing a song, taking a blank page and making something that wasn’t there before.

Starting new things is often difficult for me as I lack something vital.  Confidence.  Confidence in myself, my ability, my strength and even in my weaknesses.  I find that I look, with distressing regularity, for an outlet to take me somewhere other than where I find myself to be.  I use words, images, nature, books and music to name a few, to transport me.  I seem to be  continually trying to expand my horizons; horizons that I am often afraid of because they force me to step outside of my comfort zone.  Expanding ones  horizons takes confidence, and therein likes a big part of the problem.  Why, I ask, would anyone care to look at photographs I’ve taken, read words I’ve written or hear of experiences I’ve had?  It is difficult, when something comes from deep within, to believe that anyone other myself has any reason to find it interesting.

Tonight, I learned a valuable lesson.  It came in the form of a charismatic genius.  An artist who opened his world to me.  His time, his mind, his talent.  And as I sat in the class, following the instructions he gave, I watched, in awe, as an image appeared on a previously blank page.  An image that wasn’t there before and emerged as I coaxed it with lines and perspective.

I was apprehensive about trying something that I had already convinced myself I could not do, but was willing, simply for the need to know, try.  I left my first art class feeling like there was nothing I could not accomplish.  I learned that I could, in fact, draw a straight line with a ruler and that the possibilities are endless.

The box I opened tonight wasn’t Pandora’s, for it was full of things that were inspiring and wonderful.  The box I opened tonight was was the one I drew by using the knowledge I have, the tools I was given and the instruction I received.

I am, for the moment (and the moment I am in is all I really ever have), at a place where I decide whether I will stay where I am or move forward and become more than I thought I could be.  When I went to bed last night, I felt broken.  That feeling carried over to the morning and self-doubt, my oldest nemesis reminded me that I had no talent or artistic ability.  This evening, that self-doubt took a serious blow.  I found it to be one of the most empowering times that I have faced in a very long time and I was reminded that I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.  Yes.  A long time, indeed.

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It’s raining, it’s pouring …

the old man is snoring.  I don’t know if he is snoring or not, but I have always been told, since I was but a wee child,  that he was.  Rain.  Something that folks in the East, Northeast and Midwest have had a fair share of this year and, it’s only January.  It’s easy to start hating rain, I suppose.  I know that it has thwarted a few things that I would have liked to do, but in order to appreciate it, one must look past the present situation of inconvenience and saturation to the beauty and bounty that water from the Heavens provides.

Rain is essential to all living things on the earth.  It fills up the creeks, rivers, lakes, wells, streams and it gives lifesaving water to the trees that I so adore.  I can only image the conversation the trees must be having, among themselves, at this very moment; knowing that their roots are full to capacity and there is excess to aid in the dry times that are bound to come.  They must be ecstatic even though there will be some, as in the human element, that will fall under the pressure that the reality of life deals them.  We, as the trees, begin to die the minute we are born.  This is a fact.

It is easy to decide that rain is a bad thing, but I love it.  I love the sound of it, the feel of it on my skin, the taste of it on my tongue.  It is such a beautiful thing, that which pours from the clouds.  It is true that, at times, rain decides to exhibit its power and influence; filling waterways well past their spilling points.  I don’t discount the damage it can do if it decides to go on a full-out tirade and at the same time, I watch, in amazement, at just what it is capable of.   A single raindrop, on its own, has little impact, but when paired with millions of others falling steadily; well, the result is astounding.

While under normal circumstances, without tornadoes, hurricanes or other brutal natural occurrences, rain is just …. well, it’s just rain.  Water that falls from the heavens and makes a sound that nothing else on earth can make.  How many people who will read this blog post will have a CD or some recording of a thunderstorm or rain for relaxation or meditation?  It is food for thought, anyway.

This is where the idealistic photographer steps in.  Yes, it can sometimes flood, but through the lens of my camera, it is astounding.  The wonder of nature as it shows its power is a beautiful thing.  Don’t get me wrong, I wish for no harm to anyone, but if it is going to happen anyway, I want to be a part of it.  It is during these times, when Mother Nature decides she is going to show off, that I am truly sorry I have a day job.  It takes everything I can muster not to pick up my camera, head out to anywhere and everywhere and say “to hell” with my job.

Reality, however, has a way of kicking me in the head and reminding me that it is prevalent in my life.  I, at times, hate reality and feel that it picks on me purposely just to remind me that I don’t have nearly as much control as I think I have.  What reality doesn’t realize, however, is that I’m not the one in control and it is picking on the wrong being.   When my experience and wisdom is cooked proper, don’t doubt for a minute that reality will have little bearing on where I will be or what I can accomplish.

In the meantime, I will listen to music that soothes me while the rain falls with torrential force and know that, when tomorrow dawns, if I am blessed to live, it will be a wonderful day; rainy or not.

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Isaiah 55:10 ~ For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater:

I am just as at home everywhere …

as I am in only one place.  As I look over the past several years and think of the places I’ve visited, it occurs to me that the short stay I had in those various cities and towns, in the air and on the roads simply wasn’t enough.  I needed more time.  Weeks.  Months.  Not just days.  There were things I didn’t have time to experience, time I wasn’t able to spend wandering around in and absorbing that which, although unfamiliar, was as familiar to me as my own backyard; people I didn’t get to meet and sit down with.  There was food I didn’t get to taste and sheer beauty, of which, I wasn’t able to become a part.

I suppose such words are those that only one with wanderlust can understand.  Everywhere feels like home, at least for a time.  The people are different but so similar, the air smells different, but is, again, essentially the same.  The roads all lead somewhere, the sun rises, the sun sets, the moon shines, the stars twinkle and even though I haven’t actually seen it yet, I know it is will be beautiful.  There really isn’t anywhere on earth that I can think of that I could lay my head and not, at least for a bit of time, feel at home.

Last night, I started driving for no other reason than to be somewhere other than where I was.  I was driving West.  No radio.  No sound at all except my wheels on the road and the thoughts in my head.  It was very cathartic.  After about one hundred miles, though, instead of continuing on until I came to another ocean, I turned around and headed from whence I had come.  It wasn’t my time to go; not yet.  While my family and friends are perplexed by my consuming need to go, I know in my heart that there will come a time that I will leave them.  It won’t be easy, but it will be necessary if I am to fulfill what has been predestined for me.

That sounds so mystical, but it isn’t.  I have dreamed of it my entire life.  There is nothing mystical about hoping to see a life-long dream fulfilled.  I sometimes feel selfish when I think this way, but I have to remind myself that there will be no one else to live the dreams I dream; no one but myself.  I will follow the will of my Father God where His wind takes me and I will do my very best to honor Him no matter where I lay my head.

There are so many places I want to go; some I’ve already been and want to go back again.  I don’t care, really, if I have a place, other my car, to rest when I get weary.  Where I stay is the least of my concerns; what I see, though, well, now, that’s a different story altogether.  It isn’t that I’m not content where I am, it is simply that there is still so much of creation that I want to see.  No, that isn’t right. If I only wanted to see it, then it would just be a passing thing.  I need to see it.  To feel it. To breathe it.  To taste it.  To touch it.  To stand in it; whatever “it” may be.  And need surpasses want on every level.

I consider the people of the world to be my family and friends.  I don’t think of them in colors, religions or nationalities.  They are just people.  We are not, in our hearts and dreams, dissimilar.  I suppose some of my optimism spills over into what I perceive the world to be, but at the end of the day, I need to know, to learn, to experience.  I want to see for myself and not rely on the eyes of another to mold my perceptions; not live vicariously through the stories that have been told.

There will come a time, if God wills it, that the places of my dreams will become places of my reality.  I can wait, for nothing  truly worth waiting for is time wasted.

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Proverbs 3:6 ~   in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.

 

There is something about snow-sledding …

that never gets old.  It takes me back to my childhood and brings great memories to mind and at the same time, lets me know that I’ve still got it.  Last weekend, my nieces, brother and friends were sledding on the best sledding hill in Scott County.  They had been on the hill the day before, so the snow was packed and slick, as it should be for an incredible sledding experience.

My niece, for whatever reason, wanted to ride with me down the hill on one of the runs.  Being that she is small (at seven years old) and I am not, I was a bit apprehensive that she would be  hurt were we to have a wreck.  But nothing else would do her, so away we went.

Nearly three quarters of the way down, we were lucky enough to hit a dip that caused us to go airborne.  While that would usually be a good thing, Sophie’s safety was my primary goal.  I had my legs around her and put my hiker thighs to work to keep her intact.  There was no way that kid was going anywhere.

We did go airborne.  And while airborne, we did a full 360, then bounced and continued on down the hill.  At some point, Sophie said to me “Nini, you are crushing my lungs”.  It didn’t matter.   At the end of the ride, even though we had an awesome wipe-out, she was secure within the confines of the inner tube we were riding on.  No injuries were reported and there was much congratulating and high-fiving between herself and me after the ride was over.

She said to me as we prepared to go again “Nini, I love you, but you almost crushed me with your legs and my mom would be upset if you had killed me”.  LOLOL … this amused me as she is only seven (six at the time of the ride) and had enough sense to know that sometimes, I go overboard in the protection department.  She didn’t however, fall off because she was caught in a vice grip.  How much fun that was.  I only hope we have the chance to sled down the hill again; next time though, I will  try not to hold her so tightly that she feels like she’s being murdered.  Now, all we have to do is wait on more snow.  Some things just never get old.  Sledding is one of them.

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As a photographer …

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days like today are off the charts on the  list of experiences that I don’t want to miss.  It was simply my good fortune that the company I work for decided to open on a delayed schedule, giving me two extra hours.  Two extra hours on a bright, sunny, blue-skied morning that followed on the heels of a big, heavy snow.  As I look out my windows, I see that overnight, the entire world has been turned into a painting and I, being mortal, have it in my mind that I’m going to try to capture it; freeze it as it looks to me.  Hoping to do it justice.

I know when I’ve nailed a shot.  I don’t know a photographer who doesn’t.  Ansel Adams was quoted as saying “Sometimes I get there just at the moment God wants someone to click the shutter”.  He knew. That moment the shutter snaps, I am without doubt that even if nothing else I have shot the entire day satisfies me, this one shot will make every minute worth it.

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There isn’t always “that shot”, though.  Some days, there is a handful of mediocre photographs and nothing that stands out.  There isn’t that one; the image that is full of words and in the words within the image, beauty.  That’s what I strive for, what I aspire to do; at times, it is all I can think about.   If only there was more time.

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This day, the epitome of a winter morning, the kind of day I fantasize about; today, pure and simply, leaves me speechless.  Let the images speak for themselves.

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A snow day …

doesn’t mean any less to me now than when I was kid finding out that school was out for snow, again.  While I could sleep in for a while, I was digging, instead, through my toboggans and gloves, finding a coat and locating my boots.  I knew, without even looking, that my friends were already gathering at the sledding hill.

The hill was very big and very steep and rather rocky in places.  It made for an interesting ride to the bottom on a sled, a plastic bag or an old tire.  Before long, the neighborhood moms and dads would build a bonfire and start the process of making gallons of hot chocolate.  Some with marshmallows, but as far as I’m concerned, there is no better way to ruin a good cup of hot chocolate than putting marshmallows in it.

Afterwards, when we were all frozen to the bone and caked with snow and ice, we’d head home, discard our wet clothes and stand in front of the wood-burning stove to warm up.  The smell of mom’s homemade stew would be thick in the air and life, at that moment, couldn’t possibly be any better.

It was a rarity, in the elementary school years, to go to school the entire month of January.  During January, that was a wonderful thing, as there is nothing quite so wonderful as finding out school is closed due to snow.  The wonderful part came to a halting stop soon enough, though.  In the spring, when the trees were budding and the weekend weather was perfect for riding bikes, skating and just being outdoors, the repercussions came.  School on Saturday.

What better way to torture a kid than to make them go to school on Saturday. I still have flashbacks of being in the classroom before eight am with a teacher who would rather be sticking needles in their eyes than to be there with us.  It was, after all, their Saturday, too.  It was bad, but not bad enough to regret the snow days.  Those are memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything.  I’ve just now come from outside where I held my face Heavenward and let the snowflakes fall on my tongue.  Being a grown up doesn’t change a thing; I still love a snow day.

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I thought I was prepared …

for the sheer depth of joy that would come with the total immersion of mind, body and spirit into the wilderness.  I wasn’t even close.  In three short months, I had forgotten the thrill of knowing the exhilaration of finding that there is nothing between me and nature except the air I breathe and my Pentax.   I had forgotten how awe-inspiring creation is when I can see it up close and personal.  I had forgotten just how alluring the smells of the earth in winter could be.

Today, however, I was reminded.   The sights, sounds and smells took me from my present self and put me in an altered state of mind.  One that thrives on finding out where the trail leads, then, when the trail has run its course, the adrenaline punching adventure of veering off to become one with the hills and valleys, the streams and creeks of my mountain; for today, it was on my mountain that I wandered.  My mind was peaceful, my thoughts were clear and my body strong as it responded to the challenges and physical demands of making my way through thickets and briar-laden brambles on steep, rocky hillsides.

The mind-numbing exhaustion of the past few weeks dissipated like fog under a summer sunrise.  With every step, I felt my energy level rise and my stress level fade into oblivion and it didn’t escape me that I can find myself in this same state of mind over and over; that nothing can happen to me in a week’s time that I can’t undo with a hike into places both known and unknown.  My mind is already full with thoughts of where I will go next week. I am blessed beyond measure by the simple things in life that God knows I have a need of.

Even now, I feel as though the energy inside me will simply burst forth, creating a display of light and shadow all around me.  I suppose, since there happens to be no other, more enjoyable outlet, I will expend that energy on laundry.  Pity.

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Psalms 96: 11-12 ~ Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea roar, and the fulness thereof. Let the field be joyful, and all that is therein: then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice.

Anticipation of its wonders…

nearly has me giddy.  It has been over two months since I have been out in the wild with my pentax, hiked a steep and winding mountain trail, sat on my favorite rock or stood in front of the falls.  I find that I am in serious withdrawal from the beauties and bounties of being alone in the midst of nature.  But the waiting is about to end.  After multiple injuries that kept me in a state of suspension on level ground, I am at the cusp of being released to return to my normal, weekend warrior activity.

The bone doc shakes his head at me each time I speak of climbing narrow mountain trails, scaling over rocks, holding onto trees to keep from falling backwards on steep paths and standing inches from the edge of a cliff just to get a vertical shot; he doesn’t understand that those things are as much a part of my life as the air I breathe.  He doesn’t understand that it is part of what sustains me. They make no sense to him and why, after all, should they.  I am part of distinct breed and we know what makes us tick whether anyone else does or not.

I long for it and longing is a very strong emotion.  I find myself thinking of the magnitude of loss that not having the hikes and jaunts every weekend have brought me.  No, it is not like losing a loved one or dear friend.  It is more like losing a cherished lover.  The envelopment of the wonder of nature is so complete that I feel untouchable when I am in the midst of it, held in the beauty and silence and soothed from every negative thought.  The silence of human voice combined with the chatter of nature is so alluring.  Setting up the tripod for long exposure shots, zooming in on a bloom, rock, leaf or whatever may catch my eye, is intoxicating to me; yes, I long for it.

It doesn’t matter what the good doctor has to say tomorrow.  I have been doing my own Physical Therapy and my shoulder is strong and ready to take on whatever comes my way.  I have already waited far longer than I wanted to.  I have exercised to way too many aerobics videos, practiced yoga until I can put my foot around my neck and into the opposite ear, lifted weights and performed hundreds of lunges and squats to keep my body strong.  I hate it.  Every single moment of it.  I don’t want to try to keep up with some bimbo that does things that make no sense and, regardless of how limber I am, I can only stretch so far.  I feel that I am well on my way to being a contortionists and warn my friends that they should not be surprised if they open a box and I am in it.

I have made an executive decision that I don’t really care, one way or the other, what the doc says tomorrow.  I am going into the mountain on Saturday.  I am going on a trail shoot and see what January in the mountains has to offer.  I have missed it more than I have the missed my dearest friends that I have neglected to keep in touch with.  Not great for their egos, but I’ve never lied to them before, why start now.  I think they know anyway; know that they take a back seat to the chance to get into the wilderness and see what waits for me there.  It’s why they are my dearest friends.  They understand me and, inexplicably, like me anyway.  Plain and simple.

While I still have a little soreness, the backpack will be a challenge.  But challenges don’t scare me, they inspire me.  So I’ll fill it up with water, toast-chee crackers, nekot cookies, a first aid kit, a few of my favorite lens filters and deal with it.  I’m already so excited about the adventure that everything else has suddenly become obsolete.  It just proves what I have said all along … I have a selfish bent.  And this Saturday, I’m playing the “me” card.  I have few responsibilities, when it comes to everyday weekend life, so being able to go where I please, when I please, for however long I please, is priceless.

Now to turn a complete 360 and change the subject entirely; I took out my Christmas tree tonight.  It was the first tree I have had in many years and the only one that has ever belonged solely to me.  I was apprehensive about putting one up at all.  I just didn’t want the past to become more a part of my future than it already is.  But I put it up, decorated it with only lights, and enjoyed it for over three weeks.  I now look out the unobstructed window and, with a regret I never imagined, miss my tree.  If I could have found a way to sustain it, I may have kept it up for months.  So soothing and comforting were the fading and blinking lights.  I don’t know for certain that I will have a tree next year as I doubt I will ever be as enamored as I was this year.  Taking back to myself what I had lost to sorrow, disappointment and plain disillusionment was one of the best things I have ever done for myself.  And I owe my dear friend, Missy, along with her young son, for picking out my perfect tree.  Many thanks in this shoutout to her and TAS.

Tomorrow is another day, and if I am blessed to live until then, I will embrace it and take it in as best I can.  My daily work has become a burden to me as I find my thoughts everywhere but where they should be.  It takes an enormous amount of concentration (which I am not know for), dedication, which I can  handle and people skills that though, I have a knack for, can’t find the passion that should be there.  In my heart, I am a photographer and writer; I am a nurse because I have bills to pay.  It didn’t start that way, but it’s how it ended up.  Anxiously awaiting Saturday when I will immerse myself in the beauty of winter.  I can barely sit still thinking about it.  That, in itself, speaks volumes.  That, in itself, defines a huge part of me.  My drummer, my march.  Selfish?  Yes, on some level.  Regretful?  Not a chance.  Bring it on.  I am willing and able.  No other requirements are necessary.  Praising God as I go and thank Him for all that He shows me.  I am blessed beyond anything I ever thought possible.  Yeah.

Little Stoney Falls, Southwest VA

Isaiah :12 ~ For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

On this, the first day of 2013 …

After The Storm

I haven’t left the house other than to walk to my mom’s for some sausage balls and homemade chocolate chip cookies left over from last night’s New Year’s Eve celebration.  But not leaving the house on such a dreary, rainy, wonderful day doesn’t mean that I haven’t accomplished anything.  I did a lot of thinking.  I thought about taking my Christmas tree out today.  Since it was, however, so rainy, cold and dreary outside, I decided I could handle looking at the lights for one more day.  I’m going to miss that beautiful old tree when it’s gone, but nothing can go on forever and while I love the tree, I have missed the view out the window.

Besides thinking, though, I got many things in the house done.  General cleaning, straightening and taking stock of my pantry.  It seems that I have some baking soda, a few bottles of spices and a bag of flour.  Not conducive to cooking anything of any substance.  I’d like to try to get back into cooking, otherwise, I may have to break my cardinal rule and eat a hot pocket.

Besides coming to the conclusion that there is no truly edible food in my house, I’ve been getting my hiking gear oiled and cleaned, ready to get back to weekends in the mountains.  I am confident that when I see the Orthopedists in a couple of weeks, he will clear me to get back to the trails and hard places that I love to go.  I was complaining a few days ago about the belligerent 9-year old I had to wrestle into submission in order to obtain a flu swab, but I think he did me more good than harm.  I actually believe he helped put that pesky, out-of-place bone back where it belongs.  Guess I owe the brat a thank you.

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I cannot even voice how much I miss nature, the mountains, the rocks and trees, the waterfalls, the arduous climbs and the smell of the earth in every season.  So far, I have missed Winter completely, but lucky for me, Winter really only officially began a few days ago.  I long for the bare branches of the trees as they stand sentry over a barren earth, biding their time until she blooms again, bringing forth life and a different kind of beauty.  She calls to me; Mother Nature, that is.  She calls to me as the light changes, shifting over the mountains, shadows forming and dissipating almost in the same moment.  I long for the adventure of what I will find at the top of the next hill, around the next turn, behind the thunderous sound of water falling for hundreds of feet.  I dream of standing alone with nothing but the glory of nature surrounding me and find myself nearly trembling with anticipation to get back to it.

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While I have been out of commission, I have exercised at home, keeping my legs and thighs strong and ready for the hikes and climbs that I so dearly love.  Yes, in a couple of weeks, I think I will be able to stop those mind-numbingly boring, in-home routines, strap on my heavy backpack without feeling like my shoulder will detach itself from my person, grab my tripod and head out with my trusty Pentax to see what I’ve missed while I’ve been gone.  I wonder if  my favorite places have missed me as much as I’ve missed them.  I’d like to think so.

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