Tag Archives: mountains

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.

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

Today I walked in the rain

One of the simple pleasures of my childhood was playing in the rain.  As I grew older, I still loved the rain but never seemed to make the time to just enjoy it.  Not run from it; not dread it.  Just embrace it.  So today, as the rain put a damper, so to speak, on my original plans, I decided to just go with it.

I decided to go on a trail I hadn’t been on before but thought I might know where it would lead.  The first hour went quickly and it was then I realized that the trail had been, for the last half mile or so, on an incline.  It wasn’t leading where I thought it would; curiosity pushed me forward.  The incline continued to steepen as I walked up and up, the rain falling softly around me.  The sound it made as it fell onto the leaves, trees and forest floor is one that I don’t have words to describe.  It is its own song; the music of rain, the orchestra of nature.

After two and a half hours and still no real clue where I was headed, I decided to start back down.  The trail was already becoming slick from the rain and with the overcast skies, darkness would come sooner than usual.  I plan to go back when I have an early start and can get to the trail destination.  It likely leads to the High Knob lookout, which is a mediocre destination without the tower, but I won’t know until I get there.

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.

Back to Reality

After a fun-in-the-sun filled week in one of the most beautiful places on earth, I and the family are back from Madeira beach on the magnificent Gulf Coast of Florida.  Back from paradise and back to the reality of my everyday life.  The sand was white, the sunsets were brilliant, the water was blue and the weather was warm. The colors of the water and sky seemed to merge, at times, so that discerning one from the other was nearly impossible.  But, paradise isn’t something that can be harnessed or held captive and there wasn’t a way to stay any longer this time.  Once back home, it didn’t take long for true reality to show it’s face.   I had to do two things last night that I haven’t had to do in a week… first, I had to run from a spider and second, had to turn on the heated mattress pad.  As I sit here this evening looking out the window toward the road, I find it hard to be completely happy that I am not looking out upon the ocean, feeling the humid air caress my skin and knowing that, in a short while, a new light show will manifest as the sun sets behind the Gulf and the sky turns a dozen shades of red, orange and yellow.  There are tractors in my vision as opposed to sail boats and fishing trawlers, tobacco as opposed to palm trees and dirt as opposed to sand.  While I dearly long for the sea, I cannot discount the beauty of the mountains and their likeness to the coast I left behind.  The mountains and hills, much like the sea, continuously roll and change, making the scene a little different each time I look at it.  Depending on the season, the trees display their beauty in the form of waving leaves, ripening fruit or their stalwart nakedness.  The fields will turn from green to brown, then will die away until spring.  The coast, however, will in some way, remain the same from season to season even though it changes from second to second.  While that sameness could get old for some, I find the beauty of a timeless place that changes with every roll of a wave, though it often goes unnoticed, to be a source of inspiration.  No matter how much the same something seems to be, underneath the sameness is a greatness whose workings are only known by God.   I’ve been to the sea, I’ve seen the desert and I live in the mountains… each one, though vastly different, is the same in that they call to my heart in a way that I never really expected.  I don’t want to stay in one place.  I can feel the wanderlust growing inside me and there will come a time, Lord willing, when I will get in my car with a few changes of clothes, my camera, laptop, phone and tripod and hit the road.  Where that road will lead me remains to be a mystery, one that I look forward to unraveling.  I find that waiting for that moment in time to become the present is likely the hardest thing I have ever done.  I don’t want to wait, but now is not the time.  When it is time, I will knowDaylight Moon and until then, the urge to go will grow and mature inside me so that when I go, I will know what to do when I get there.   I have faith in an awesome God who answers the prayers of His people.  He knows the deepest desires of my heart and the dreams of my spirit and I have no doubt that He will show me the things that I so long to see.  Until then, I will put the ocean away and embrace the beauty of the mountains with the foggy mornings and cool evenings… and I will wait.  Photography will take me where I want to go, I’ve no hesitations about believing that, and God will bless my photography so that it will glorify His greatness.  Yes, I will wait and while I do, I will continue to serve, worship and revere Him for all the things He has already shown me and thank Him for what is to come.

Spring on Clinch Mountain

Today, I took a walk on the wild side… the wild mushroom side, that is… Under the close supervision of my guide (and dad), Steve Minton, we went deep into the hollows of Clinch Mountain.  Although the mushrooms were in short supply, there was no shortage of sheer, springtime beauty.  The blooming trees are just starting, so the experience will last another week or so… the ferns are unfolding and the leaves are putting out… but more than the sights, there are the sounds and smells that make it, really and truly, springtime in the Mountains.  The brooks and creeks, thanks to the recent rains, were bubbling and laughing, teasing the rocks and the moss like a child with energy to spare…
The birds sang and the wind rustled through the budding leaves and still bare limbs making a sound, when mixed with the rushing water, that is indescribable and one of my greatest pleasures.  While the trail was steep and bumpy, the driver was an exceptional one and handled the Ranger like a true professional.  Myself, who is usually walking because I have some weird fear, rode with confidence and had a thoroughly wonderful day.  It wasn’t long after we’d stopped that Sophie announced her first find.  I wound myself around to where she and dad had gone.  It was then I heard him announce that there was a terrapin…  he stuck his head out for a moment, but soon decided he’d just soon be left alone…
Sophie decided she wanted to walk with me awhile so we started looking around.  She is eagle-eyes when it comes to mushrooms.  Though we only found a handful, she spotted every one of them.
The morel mushroom is called by many in Southwest Virginia the “dry land fish” partly, I suppose, to the fish-like taste of fried morels.  It is unusual for sure, and not easy to find.  But once you find a place they grow, you keep your mouth shut about it.  Least that’s what I was told by the guide.  Not long after, Sophie decided that she had seen enough mushrooms, had enough bug-bites and wanted to get in the cool… so we started down..  Not far into the descent, there were some ferns, just unfolding… one of the many small miracles of nature and one of my all-time favorite spring sights…

The descent ended in the pond field where we found and army of frogs all around the pond.  Since my zoom lens is temporarily disabled, I had to get really close.  Prayed that they wouldn’t jump on me, so I was pretty confident.  There were both disgustingly gross and unerringly fascinating… odd

The tour ended back at the farmhouse.  It seems that one of the most beautiful things was right here in the dooryard… my Mother’s garden…
All in all, it was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.  I learned so much more with dad, um, I mean, the guide, than I could have possibly figured out for myself.  Thanks, Dad, for being willing to teach an old dog new tricks…