Category Archives: travel

The Wonder of Nature, Baby…

a force to be reckoned with.  As Hurricane Sandy makes her way up the East Coast, I find it both exhilarating and humbling to follow along.  I have many friends, some in flesh and blood, and others on Facebook and Twitter that I follow along with.  I wonder and think about their well-being and hope they will be well and safe, but at the same time, well, what can I say?  I want to be in the midst of the waves and snow and wind and carnage.  I want to wield my weatherproof Pentax and document the most awesome entity that is called Nature.  It is in my blood, my heart and my soul and even though I have mixed feelings about it, it doesn’t change the desire.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that I knew, beyond all rational thought, that I wanted to be a photographer, but it was somewhere in the middle of Mrs. Duncan’s third grade class.  I was caught taking photographs of the classroom and of the teacher, and she took my camera away.  As far as I know, if she is still living, she still has it.  Documentation of life as it happens became a pure obsession, one my parents (as those long ago sought after piano lessons) thought would pass.  But it didn’t pass.  Instead, it became an inferno as opposed to a campfire.

As years passed and photography consumed me, it had to take a back seat to the reality of having to work to feed my family.  A day job has, as far back as I can remember in my adult life, been the bane of my existence.  I got married and then had a child.  It wasn’t in my nature to quit once I had started something, so even though I loved my daughter and tried my best to make my husband happy, I could think of little else than leaving it all behind to pursue my dream.

But dreams are just that.  Imaginings and hopes that may or may not come to fruition.  The timing, at that particular moment, wasn’t right and I had responsibilities that kept me grounded.  I have no regrets (well, maybe some regrets where the philandering, cheating, no-good husband was concerned), but as far as my daughter, absolutely no regrets.  She was,  is and will continue to be a driving force in my life.  I had pretty much given up the hope of ever being a “real” photographer.

Fate and destiny has a way, though, of cutting through all the nonsense and paving a way where there didn’t seem to be one.  God knows the most intimate secrets and desires of my heart.  I began creating greeting cards a few years ago and have, to date, sold well over 20,000 cards.  God has blessed me well beyond what I believed I was capable of.  I have recently signed up to be a part of the Virginia Tourism team and excitement doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel.

Saying things out loud has always been a problem for me, but writing about or photographing and then writing about them is as natural as the breath in my lungs.  I look forward to every new adventure, each new sunrise and everything in between.   One has only to look at two sunrises or sunsets in succession to realize that they are completely different and have very different things to say.  Many times, I have (much to my family’s chagrin and disapproval) made myself a human lightning rod in the midst of thunderstorms, but take not into account my safety.  As I see it, if I die while photographing the wonder of nature, it has been a good death.

My blog posts come from my own brain and my own heart and my own point of view.  While there are times that I am certain I step on the toes and belief systems of the people I love and cherish, I cannot stem what comes from my soul.  To do so would be to deny that I, in any capacity, cease to exist and I have worked way to hard to overcome such ideals to let them hold me captive anymore.

Funnily enough, this post began as encouragement to those who are about to face an awesome display of nature and try to survive, but, has become more of an homage to those who follow along.  I am honored.  I am humbled.  I am inspired.  Life inspires me and that, in itself, is one of the most wonderful things I can imagine.

What can you do …

when you are trapped between that realm of normalcy and  insanity?   A tough question with no easy answer.  After  years of battling hours, days, even weeks of rapid cycling, I still have nothing to offer.  When those times come about, it seems that we, as beings, cease to belong to the world around us.  Everything is distorted and there is no orientation or order to any of it.  It comes down to the ability to realize what is happening and take it, as much as possible, in stride, until it passes.  I’m sure there are many people who have no idea what “rapid cycling” is and do not recognize it when people they know are going through it.  To the “normal” person, it looks like acting out or even attention seeking behavior.  Without knowledge of the situation, it would seem, and aptly so, that the person you know has become someone that you cannot comprehend.  I suppose, without actually meaning to be, this post is as much for the people who cannot fathom a place of uncertainty,  and downright dubiety than for those of us who know it more intimately than we would like.

Rapid cycling is a real and, most often, a permanent thing.  I am blessed to only have this occur once or twice a year; not so in my youth as it would happen two or three times per month and could, in the worst of times, last a week or more.   It is not uncommon for rapid cycling to last for months or even a year, but for the rest of us, the lucky ones,  rapid cycling comes with little or no trigger and can last as little as four hours.  The mood swings are awesome and completely, enigmatically  exhausting.  By the time it is over, I usually feel like I have been ran over by a very large, heavily loaded truck.  My brain is foggy, my senses slow and my reflexes, at least for a short time, are nonexistent.  In the grand scheme of things, it is not dissimilar to a seizure that lasts for hours.  Right and wrong seem to meld seamlessly and, from previous experience, it is most important to try to maintain control during one of these episodes.  After all these years, I have learned the warning signs and work very hard to isolate myself, as much as possible, until it has ran its course.

I know, without reservation, that there are others who feel the same way.  It makes me feel extremely vulnerable to speak of such things, but one person’s experience can often mean the difference between making or breaking to someone who feels the devastating, overwhelming range of emotions that define who we are at a given time.  Everyone experiences, at some point, sadness and joy, but this goes beyond that.  It is joy that is so inexplicable that jubilant takes a back seat; sadness that threatens our very being and, in the midst, every conceivable emotion in between.

I subscribe to the supposition that most adults have, at this point, learned to recognize the warning signs and may even be able to pinpoint the triggers; for that reason, this post is not directed to you.  It is directed to younger people who have thoughts and feelings that they cannot understand and find that, when trying to describe it, the people they love and trust do not understand.  It is important to know that it is likely that they will never truly understand.  They will accept you, humor you, try to get you, but unless they have experienced the phenomenon, they will not ever really and truly know what you speak of.  BUT … that doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who do.

Look inside yourself, learn to know the warning signs and be aware of the consequences of rash and often, irrational choices.  Even when you feel out of control, at the core, you are in control.  The decisions and choices you make, the roads you take, the destinations you choose will all define who you are in the end.  Just because you have moments of weakness doesn’t give you free reign to make poor choices.  It is of inimitable importance that one understands the state they are in and realizes that the choices they would normally make are much, much more complicated during this time.

If I can do nothing else, I encourage everyone to learn about rapid cycling so that when faced with it, whether personally or through someone they know and love, they will understand that it isn’t something that can fixed by advice.  It can’t be fixed by instruction or direction and it has no understanding of “buckling down”.

It just is.  And, as quickly as it comes, it will end.  Have faith that God will not let you destroy yourself and know, with certainty, that this too, shall pass.  I tell you this from experience so that  you, whoever you are, will know that you are not alone.

I believe in an Awesome God and know that the experiences and trials we face will help us help others.  If I didn’t believe in God and the unshakable Spirit of Christ, then I would be certain that I was cursed.  But I am not cursed, I am me and I will make the very best of it that I can.  Be encouraged and then encourage others.  Your life will be richer for it.

If you listen …

you can can  hear the songs the leaves sing.  I suppose it comes as no big surprise that my blog posts this time of year pretty much revolve around Autumn, specifically  October, which brings with it the beauty of leaves that so many people, both photographers and just onlookers, seek out.  It is easy to find places to look at and enjoy the leaves on the trees that are turning colors of fiery red, brilliant orange and intense, glistening gold.  It is also easy to find trails to walk, especially around Southwest Virginia, that will take you beneath that brilliant canopy.

But those aren’t the only leaves that call to me.  One of my favorite experiences is walking along a mountain trail and have a gust of wind come up; one that blows a hard puff and send leaves spiraling out of the trees, floating and swirling as they fall gracefully to the ground.  There they make a carpet that can only be found once a year; a colorful carpet that transforms an otherwise brown and dying earth with a brilliance that cannot be rivaled.   In that carpet, it is not unusual to find mushrooms, acorns, walnuts and a myriad of other things that add their own beauty to that which is already there.

In the silence of a trail shoot when there is only me and what surrounds me, I listen to the sound.  What a symphony.  As the wind blows through the leaves, they rustle, talking back and forth, singing because, after all, this is their time.  Their moment to shine and take the spotlight.  And they sing because they know that even on the ground, they are spectacular.

They find happiness in falling and flying, giving way to freedom and pure unbridled joy.  At least it seems to me to be a joyful experience.  They look to be having so much fun that it makes me wish I could float from the trees, singing a song of thankfulness just to be a brilliantly colored leaf in October.  I find it exhilarating to speed around the bends of curves of leaf-covered mountain roads where leaves have pooled as though waiting for me to come along.

They laugh as I speed past, blowing them up and swirling them above the road and then back again.  Sometimes they find their way through the open convertible top and into my car.  They make me want to laugh just as, at times, the magnificence that I am allowed to be a part of makes me cry.  Not sad tears, but tears of happiness that I am alive and able to become, even for a short time, a part of Autumn.  I love being a photographer, especially in October.

 

Ecclesiastes  3:11 ~ He has made every thing beautiful in his time: also he has set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God makes from the beginning to the end

Today, I feel …

strong.  accomplished. motivated. tired. empowered.  It was a long day consisting of a long, difficult hike, mostly uphill, to be able to stand a bit closer to the sky and look out upon the beauty that lay below.  My trail shoots are usually five miles and under and while they are often to high places, with climbs and some measure of danger, today took the cake.  For eight hours, myself, my sister, niece and cousin trekked ten miles, mostly uphill, at a fairly steep incline.  At times, the steepness was such that holding onto trees or putting our hands on the ground was essential if we wanted to live to see another day.  It is, to date, the most difficult hike I have taken.  Had we decided to come in after visiting the White Rocks overlook, it would have likely been pretty much par for the course.  But no.  It wasn’t enough.  We went on to the Sand Cave.  I blame myself for it as I wanted so badly to see it and while we were there, we decided to bite the bullet and add an extra three miles to our adventure.  Knowing now what I didn’t know this morning when we started, I realize that in the future, I will go to one or the other, not both.  Actually, after having visited the Sand Cave, I can’t think of a good reason to go back.  Don’t misunderstand, it was beautiful, but it wasn’t what I had pictured in my mind.  The sand was deep and nearly impossible to walk in with shoes on.  I’m not a fan of sand in the first place, especially with shoes on, and this didn’t do anything to make me more of a fan.  The sand had the consistency of baby powder and didn’t stick to anything; a couple of stomps on a rock and all the sand feel off my shoes.  It was unusual and the ceiling and walls of the cave were spectacular, but still …  not a place I would purposely go to again.  The hike down to the cave was steep and, at times, treacherous, but the hike out was dangerous in the beginning and just plain exhausting by the end.  Already being tired and hungry (since as usual, I only had a pack of Toast-Chee crackers) made the climb out from the cave unusually strenuous.  The entire trail was rocky and rough, making it even more arduous.  The trail is listed as moderate, but don’t believe it for a minute.  It is, in places,  somewhat moderate but mostly difficult and not a trail I would recommend for amateurs.

Next weekend, I will go back to my beloved falls to see the foliage change and sit on the rocks for a while, enjoying the sound of rushing water and the complete solitude that I have found nearly every time I have gone there.  After today, it will feel no more strenuous than walking to the mailbox.

Let all creation sing a song
So that I may sing along.

Living for the Weekend …

isn’t really wishing your life away.  During the five long days between Sunday and Saturday, while I wish for the weekend to be here, I’m living.  Every day, every minute, I am going about the daily grind that is a big part of my life.  I wish for 5:00 on Friday starting first thing Monday morning.  I know that once Saturday comes, I will be up and out before the sun, doing, living, moving and embracing a beauty that otherwise lives in my head.

Occasionally something comes along that distracts me even from wishing for days off.  When that happens, there is little to do but hang on for dear life and ride the wave until it either drowns me or dumps me out somewhere; broken, blessed and sometimes disheartened.  Each failure and triumph is a lesson and my purpose is to learn them.  I have no illusions, however, that there are not others who feel this way.  Some  call us weekend warriors, some call us wannabe’s, some call us weird and unsatisfied and others just call us nuts. I don’t consider myself a warrior on the weekends, nor a wannabe, nor unsatisfied or nuts; I am just somebody who wants to see and do and see some more for the vastness of creation can never been fully experienced in a single lifetime.  I have difficulty staying in one place when I know there is somewhere else to go … and there is always and forever, as long as time lasts, somewhere else to go.

Some days I wish could go on for weeks and others cannot possibly end soon enough.  But inevitably, I know that if I can hang on for  a few days, (because once I’m set free I will be rewarded by one amazing thing after another) I will be set free as a bird from a cage.  I don’t mind working, not overmuch anyway, but there are many other things I would rather be doing.  A disheartening thing  for me is looking out the window and seeing the light change and knowing that, for the most part, I am missing it; as a photographer, watching the light change without me becomes, at times, physically painful.  At times like that, I wish even harder for time to pass.  I don’t feel bad about it and have no intention of not wishing for weekends.  The drum I march to may not be the same rhythm as others’, but it suits me just right and, at some point, they meet up anyway.

I’m not much of a joiner.  Where I am, for the most part, I am there alone.  I, unlike many, however, don’t mind being alone.  It would be a fallacy to say there was never a time I didn’t wish for company, for someone special to share the beauty that embraces me, in the recesses of my mind, like a lover …  but there is something so serene and renewing about being in the middle of a beautiful place in nature with nothing but the sound of the earth mingling with the music in my head to keep me company.  If anyone has ever stood on the top of a mountain, feeling the wind, lifting their arms and face to enjoy the sheer freedom of it … or  lying down in a field of blooming flowers, letting the sun warm their body even as the fragrance overtakes them … or standing close enough to a waterfall to feel the mist as it moistens their hair and skin as it plummets to a clear pool below, or feeling an intimacy that moves the soul and spirit in ways that were never expected or imagined; they understand.  They know what words can never describe.

These days, my time off is spent hiking in and around Southwest Virginia, not just because it’s where I live, but because it is a spectacular sight to see.  I pack my gear, put in my earphones and listen to the beauty of music while I immerse myself in the beauty of nature; a Pentax around my neck and my eyes always searching for what I wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t been looking.  That is part of being a photographer at the core of my heart.  Everything is beautiful, everything is alluring, everything is a photograph and nothing is too small to stop and admire.  During every moment, every adventure, every triumph and every disappointment, I know that I have been blessed beyond imagination by a loving God who knows what moves my heart and soul.  There are lessons to be learned and joys to be experienced.  It’s too late for me to change now, being as I’m getting old and set in my ways, so I’ll just go with it.  So far, it seems to suit me just fine … but eventually, the need to photograph will overtake everything else.  I feel, as I have for years, that this is God’s will for me.  He has encouraged me when I became discouraged and opened new doors into photography.  I am humbled that He would use me to encourage His people by doing what I love.  I am truly and excitingly and reverently and beautifully and gratefully blessed.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Robert Frost

Once a dreamer …

always a dreamer … Being a nurse for the past twenty-five years has been an experience in and of itself.  It would take a hundred blogs running every day to review the exploits that happen just in my little world.  But this isn’t about nursing, not specifically, anyway, but about a path not taken.  I have enjoyed nursing, for the most part, and would not want to trade the experience and knowledge I’ve gained over the last two and a half decades.  It just wasn’t what I wanted to do.

I had three goals when I was a kid and they were to sing, play the piano and photograph the world.  All three of those things took guts and I didn’t have any.  I had no nerve, little faith and plenty of fear.  So I took the easy road, leaving my dreams to wither and fade into the dust of my past.

It only took a few months to realize that I had made a dire mistake, but I still had no nerve, little faith and plenty of fear; I just let it ride.  As years passed, the dreams I left behind refused to be still.  It became apparent to me that a dream that really did fade into the past, forgotten, wasn’t a dream worth chasing anyway; my dream was banging at my head and my heart.  At every opportunity, I found myself with a camera in my hand.   Nature and created things began to be a central focus in my life and weekends were spent jaunting around looking for “pictures to take”.  I went to work every day and spent the evenings fiddling with the camera, playing with settings, learning, without really realizing, to do what I had always wanted to do; be a photographer.  I never learned to play the piano and I sing only at church, but those are but ripples in the pool.  It is the light and shadow that I love and am thankful that even though I was foolish and fearful once, God saw fit to bless me with what I wanted most.

I find comfort in the images He shows me.  I will continue to work as a nurse but on weekends, I’ll be in the mountains or wherever life might take me, photographing the beauty that is before me.  It brings me inexplicable joy to be immersed in the feel and smell of creation knowing that I serve the one who created it.    I don’t believe in coincidences so I can come only to the conclusion that this path is one that God chose for me and continues to bless every single day of my life;  I may not have had the guts  back then, but I have them now, along with the faith and nerve to do it and do it well.

If just one is encouraged by this post to put fear behind them and follow their dreams, then it has served its purpose.

I had the ability to fly all along, it was courage to spread my wings that I lacked.

this sounds like a Suzuki ad .. but truth is truth

Everything I know about Suziki, I have learned from this little red ATV.  I’ve always been a bit skittish with ATV’s because they can be, in direct link with the experience of the operator, unpredictable.  It can be said that it was with trepidation that I first drove this unpredictable vehicle.  I was pleasantly surprised that it went where I told it to go, didn’t spin, didn’t get stuck and didn’t make me feel like I was going to fall off.  The only thing I like better is the Ranger, but that is only for the windshield … I feel in control and feeling in control when I’m in a vehicle of any kind is important to me.  It makes me less afraid and that is priceless.   I’d still rather hike, but that isn’t always possible.  As a photographer, nature being a big part of the canvas,  this little number has been a handy tool when time was of the essence.  Thanks, Suzuki, for a sweet ride, for peace of mind and for letting me be in control.  As I said … Priceless.

To Paris (with a little help from my friends) via a Greeting Card

In the late spring, early summer of 2012, my daughter, a member of the UVA-Wise Highland Cavalier Marching Band, is going to Paris.  I am blown away by this and plan to give her all the financial help I can so that she will be able to go.  On my own, I cannot afford to pay for us both to go.  While I have a passport and have had the wanderlust for so long I can no longer remember when it started, I am struggling with the notion that I might not get to go.  It isn’t jealousy or envy, for I couldn’t be more happy that our Tay gets to go on such an amazingly incredible adventure.  No, it is the photographer in me that wants to see.  That needs to see.  That longs to see.  One of my most constant prayers has been to ask that my photography enable me to travel.  That greeting cards would allow me to go places that I’ve only dreamed of and to visit each place, across the globe, where my cards have sold.  When I pray, what I see is being able to just jump in my car or on a plane and go wherever, whenever, with only a few changes of clothes, my camera, my phone, my laptop and my tripod … just any old time and for as long as I want.  While I believe in my heart that such will happen eventually, as it was God who set me on the path of photography in the first place, and so I feel very strongly that it is He who has put this wanderlust in my heart, I have no doubt that photography will take me where I am meant to go.  I am hoping that it will take me to Paris.  I have a specific destination, besides Ardmore in County Waterford, Ireland, to pray about.  So I am praying specifically this time.  I am praying that the money I make on my greeting cards in the last quarter of the year, September through December will take me to Paris.  While I wish that hundreds of thousands of people would share this and would talk up Through the Eyes of the Spirit, I leave it to the Father, who already knows how it will end.

To check out the greeting cards, click the photo below to open Through the Eyes of the Spirit in a new window.  If you feel led to do so, share the link with friends and family.  God is in control, but your support and encouragement is appreciated.  While everyone may not understand the need to go and to see, some will.  As for me, being accepted, even when I’m not understood, is priceless.

My musings of DC

It’s hard to know where to start when there is what seems an entire lifetime of events… that’s, i know, impossible as the time was only 2 1/2 short days… so i’ll just start somewhere and see where the thoughts and memories take me.. what struck me most profoundly in this incredible metropolis known to the world as DC, is that I felt like I had been there before… I have dreamed of seeing this place since I was a little kid… about 7, I believe… so many times, in my thoughts and hopes, I have walked the streets of Washington.  Some of what I saw was exactly as I imagined and others were more than I expected.  The city itself, at least the part where the tourists go, is clean and depicts itself as a pinnacle of history, tradition, pomp, culture and breeding… a place that draws me to want to be a part of it, to submerse myself in the history and become part of something that feels incredibly special and, at the same time, strangely familiar.  The stark white of the buildings against, on the first day out, blue skies, and then overcast with occasional sunbursts, were impressive.  Massive things they were, standing at attention, endlessly awaiting what could be the most important thing ever to happen.  And smart in their black uniforms were the armed guards standing alert and ready at every federal building.  They patrolled the streets on bikes and could be seen everywhere.  They were unsmiling and quite intimidating… but helpful, mostly, when asked for information.  President Lincoln, sitting stoically in his shrine, was most impressive… I wasn’t really prepared for the massiveness of the statue.  I knew, of course, that it would be large, but this was monumental.  The reflecting pool was frozen, save a small area about five feet wide… the Washington Monument cast a shadow across the frozen pool, a reflection to come another day…The columns of the great buildings were huge and made me think of Coliseums. The people who lived there, and they were distinguished from the rest of us boobs touring around.. were, in my experience, very polite, though distracted with the daily grind and bustle.  What I found to be a cool thing to do, they found riding the Metro a chore and high on the list of “dumb things I gotta do”.  They seemed oblivious, for the most part, they were living practically next door to the President.  It was exciting to think that, at any moment, the President of the United States could pass right in front of me.  I don’t think I will ever forget the feeling of pride and eagerness when President Obama passed by in his motorcade right in front of our eyes.  It was a moment that felt fake, as though I would wake up in the real world… and what a great feeling to realize that, at this particular moment, I and my Pentax were in the real world and this was really happening… DC was decorated for Christmas with wreaths and red ribbons on many of the buildings, a stark contrast to the white… Lights adorned the trees around buildings and Christmas trees were in abundance all over the city.  The huge Christmas tree in the center of the Ellipse on the White House property was impressive, and once lighted, was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.  If the weather had held, we would have stayed one more day, taking a trip to Arlington Cemetery and getting a last look at the White House.  But, Mother Nature had other plans and instead of taking chances, we decided to leave early to beat the foul weather.  On the last morning, while at McDonald’s for breakfast, Taylor and I met a very nice black woman who sat and ate at the table with us.  She had lived hard years, at least that’s the story her face and hands showed.  Her name was Michelle and she was a wealth of information.  She has lived in DC her whole life and when I commented on how beautiful the city was, she laughed out loud and said “you han’t been dinetine has ye?”…  She spoke of her five grandchildren, her eyes lighting up as she told of each one and what they were doing.  She was excited that she was going to see them for Christmas.  We talked about the snow and she told of a big snow last year.  I don’t know if she was homeless… I didn’t ask her.  What I do know is that she was a fascinating, interesting woman with information about a place that I wanted to know about.  I wish there had been more time… I would have loved to have seen “her DC”.  I was reminded again, as she smiled over her eggs and hotcakes, that we are all children of God and He rains on all of us, wherever we are, just as He lets the gentle wind blow and the sun shine… just like He sends the north wind to tear at our hair and clothes and snow so thick that sight is impossible… He is too great to describe in a blog or a photograph… to omnipotent to ever begin to understand… but I know He loves me… and He loves Michelle… and all the others everywhere… He sees the happiness, discouragement, sorrow, joy… in Southwest Virginia and in Washington DC and on every inch of the world, both here and abouts…  I believe this with everything I am, was or ever hope to be… and I know He has blessed me beyond measure…  If this was it, I could not complain… for it has already been more than I had ever  hoped to dream for… Praising Him for blessing me in the midst of my unworthiness…

Washington DC… A dream realized

It’s nearly 11:00, and while I know I should be in bed, I find that closing my eyes, knowing that I am just a 5 minute ride from the heartbeat of this wonderful country we live in is keeping me awake.  I wasn’t sure what I would see or feel or think, never having been in or around DC before… Lisa and I both came to the conclusion at the same time, tho, that were mom here, she would be sick.  The metro sways side to side, speeds up and slows down, and often, we were riding backward… Once in the city itself, I was struck first by the cleanliness of everything.  The streets, buildings, lawns, vehicles… even the squirrels… it is all just busting at the seams in anticipation of something wonderful… or maybe that is me bursting at the seams in anticipation…  the streets and buildings are decorated with lights and wreaths and the effect, with the big ol’ buildings and the stoic trees, is a mesmerizingly fascinating one.  On our walk out and about today, as we scouted out the ticket pick-up line and seating for the tree-lighting, we saw the White House, the Capitol building (from a distance) and the Washington Monument.  There are flags everywhere, on every building and post and on many of the cars.  Statues and sculptures are everywhere… some of the people, whose likenesses are preserved in stone, I have heard of and others, I haven’t.  Around every corner is an aura of oldness… of traditions that haven’t been broken in decades and a pride carried on the faces and shoulders of the locals that says it ain’t planning on breaking them any time soon.  The trees, as I imagined they would be, are stunning.  An incredible contrast between the white of the buildings, the green (how they do that in december i don’t know) of the lawns, the blue of the sky and the thousands of Christmas lights and decorations, the trees stand sentry-like, guarding in their own way those that belong to them.  The White House is beautiful, but having seen photographs of it, that does not come as a surprise… but seeing it with my own eyes made me want to cry… I could scarcely believe that another one of my dreams had come true.  The level grounds surrounding it and the huge trees flanking it on every side made it even more stunning.  And if seeing the White House wasn’t enough, the roads were barricaded and the President’s motorcade came through.  While the tinted, bullet-proof glass offered little give where photos were concerned, President Obama is in the limo, behind the driver.  He is leaned forward slightly and, sorry, Mr. President, but those ears would give you away anywhere.  I am still excited about it… i don’t think it would have been any better if he had stopped, got out, and said, “why, Gina… don’t stand out in the cold, come on and I’ll give you a ride to five guys…”  Just seeing what I saw and knowing what I know to be true was enough.  And I waved at him… I waved at the President of the United States while standing in front of the White House wearing a goofy looking hat and feeling like the cat with the keys to the milkhouse.  A once in a lifetime opportunity… but then this trip is filled with them.  I am thankful that my loving God has blessed me yet again with one of my heart’s desires and that He showed me things this day I most likely would have missed if not for His blessing…  I am not worthy, and yet here I am… God is faithful…