Groundhog Day

                             

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Forgetting about Groundhog Day is typical for me. Having grown up south of the Mason-Dixon Line, Spring almost always seemed to come fairly early. Besides, it wasn't something you looked forward to with intense longing, almost desperate to escape long, dreary days of snow and ice. Our winters were fairly mild. Although we have four seasons up here, we still can't complain about long, bitter winters. We get off quite easy compared to those of you in the north.

So far this year, Old Man Winter has pretty much ignored us. We have had cold days and hard freezes at night —our lowest temperature of 9.6 degrees one night; yet, over all, winter has felt more like an unusually cold autumn. All that rain last year must have depleted our five-year supply, because we are sorely needing moisture here. Of course last year we had enough snow to last me a couple of years; but, this year we have so little it isn't worth mentioning. Since the old-timers in our valley tell us the colder winters are more typical up here, last year was a throwback it would seem.

I am not forgetting, however, that we still have February and March to go, and last year that is when we had the majority of our snow. I am not going to pack the snow boots away just yet. 

Deadline Pressure

I am feeling the pressure now. Our next Art Show comes up December 10 and 11 and you didn't need me to tell you that I came up with last minute "inspirations" and got myself in some deadline trouble. Tell the truth. You wouldn't believe it was me, if I did it any differently.

If I am more flaky than usual in the next several days, you will know where I am and what I am doing.

The photo above is from my last flurry of exploration with the LensBaby before my incarceration in the studio and office, sentenced to more days of mounting, matting, and framing along with sign production.

I was sick as a dog last Sunday, but refused to completely waste the day. Instead, I watched videos and read tips for using the LensBaby. Periodically, I put a couple of small items on the dining table and went searching again for that !?**@$ sweet spot.


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Me and My (Lens)Baby—Maybe

Since I took up photography, it has become a tradition in our family for me to choose a combo birthday, anniversary, Christmas gift near the end of the year. Moreover, I always manage somehow to get the present well before December 25th. This year the package came before Thanksgiving Day.

I finally took the plunge and asked for a LensBaby—Composer Pro w/Sweet 35, to be precise. I have had it for a couple days and I am as intrigued as I am frustrated by the lens. My struggles have me wondering if I am cut out to use this gear. I admitted long ago that my eyes aren't great—and there is even more than age at issue here. Nearsightedness. Astigmatism. Then, add the age on, for good measure. It's a challenge. Since I have had time for only a couple of brief sessions, I am withholding judgement; but, I am obviously not a natural with this. So far, this is as close as I have come to getting anything that I am willing to publish here.

I love the look and want this to work, but the manual focusing and that seemingly infinitesimal sweet spot is elusive so far.

Obviously, I have to set aside some time to give this a fair shot. I want to feel confident in my decision before I commit to keeping the lens or returning it. Defeat certainly wouldn't taste good. However, neither would stubborn denial.



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Update three sessions later: Since I like this photo better than the one above, I am feeling a bit more optimistic. Limited as I am by my eyes, this could never be my #1 lens. Still I am leaning more to staying with this. Maybe I will eventually get the hang of it.


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Final Step with the Camera Connection Kit

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After a Wednesday late-afternoon drive around Bear Valley Springs with the trusty old 40D, I decided it was time to trot out that camera cable and connect to the iPad. It was simple as pie. Of course, the RAW files from the 40D aren't 21 megapixels, but the operation went smoothly. I can see that it chews up quite bit of battery juice. I decided what the heck. I had come this far without using the desktop I may as well complete the exercise and process the small set of photos with Snapseed and FilterStorm.

In the interest of full disclosure, I didn't download more than half a dozen files on this trial run. That means I have no idea how this would work if I had attempted to transfer 50 or 60 files. I have read that this sometimes causes the computer to freeze up. I have also read that your RAW files are converted to jpg's as they are transferred and they are downsized. Both of those things make sense to me. Earl, have I got all this right? I think I read all this on Terry White's Adobe Photoshop tech blog.

I now pronounce myself ready to move to the next phase. Time to refine the basic skills I have acquired and begin planning a weekend trip. The fundamentals are in place. Soon I will be travel-ready and that means ready for traveling light. Should I tell The Husband? Yeah, I think he is already on to me.


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The Golden Foothills

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I have been seeing Highway 58 more regularly as a result of my physical therapy. Because I am so fond of the scenes along the way, this is not tedious for me. The seasons change and the look and feel of the landscape evolves. The rolling hills that, a few months ago, turned that rich—almost other-worldly green are now draped in golden brown with bits of deep rusty brown and and sprouts of a new, more subdued green here and there. To me, the foothills are equally beautiful now despite the change in finery. Simpler garb, in the eyes of some—less showy, but I find the hills equally beautiful with their starkness, clarity, and plain-spoken manner. The golden foothills rising against the blue sky have a regal quality and a dignity that is just as seductive as the exuberant and luxurious green of spring.

Along with the pleasure I take in the colors and shapes of the hills, I am fascinated by the fences that wander—in what almost seems an aimless manner—up, down, and across the hills—zigging and zagging for reasons that aren't obvious. I can lose myself in the patterns of those lines.

When I was a child, my family took road trips on weekends for entertainment. When conversation tapered off and my siblings were tired of playing, I fantasized about riding my dream horse through the fields that slid by. Of course, when my mount and I came to a fence—mostly plain and simple affairs like the one here—we sailed over it effortlessly, scoffing at boundary markers, and continuing our race with the car.

Maybe that is when I was first drawn to fences. After all, to a carefree child, they weren't serious impediments. They were minor obstacles—obstacles that were meant to be sailed over. Hurdles meant to be greeted with relish and vanquished with glee. Ah, all is possible in the mind of an innocent.

Art Conspiracies

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I have had something on the back burner for a few weeks and, just to be certain I have pounded all the life from this old metaphor, it has started to boil. It is time to drop a few hints. Why bother with a few hints, you ask? Why even bring it up if I can't tell the whole story? Obviously, you haven't been reading my blog very long. Otherwise, you surely know me better than to expect hardcore reasoning on matters of the heart. And this is a matter of the heart.

As for why only hints, this venture is a partnership. This isn't just my story to tell and many details are unsettled, so I need to wait until I can "spill the beans". I am only good at keeping other people's secrets. Any secret you shared with me might as well be stored at Fort Knox. I carry around secrets that are decades old. I have held onto some secrets until I forgot I ever knew the information in the first place. On the other hand, if it involves me, I am a veritable blabbermouth. If I don't drop some hints, the pressure will build in my poor little brain and I can't handle the extra stress.

Now you know why, here is the what. For the last few weeks, I have been conspiring with my friend C to take some control over showing our work. C is a painter whose work I like very much and C is a delight. It is a great combo. On Saturday, we took the plunge. We pitched our idea to the owner and manager of a local winery. When I returned and walked in our back door, The Husband asked, "How did it go?"  My response was, "It couldn't have gone any better unless Chuck (the owner) had written us a check purchasing all the art in advance."

I don't know much—which is helpful to a blabbermouth, but I know we are investigating the viability of scheduling this for October 1. (Yikes, that's close.) The manager will investigate possible conflicts with local events as well as events that might complement ours. This I know for certain: I suddenly have to switch gears. Big chunks of my time must be devoted to printing, matting and framing. There will be publicity to organize and a million (well, almost) decisions to make. Work not yet finished will have to be shelved for the moment. That won't be easy.

The best part of this, in my mind, is that we have taken action. Whatever happens from this point forward is a bonus.  We fretted over so few opportunities to show that didn't involve membership fees and restrictive contracts, or waiting for the once-a-year Bear Valley Springs show. And, we took matters into our own hands. It feels good to have taken the step. It is going to be an interesting few weeks.

What Is Your Story?

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Most often when I connect with an image it sparks my imagination and calls to mind stories. Characters and scenes often emerge. Sometimes, the stories are my own and powerful memories are evoked. On other occasions, the events involve imaginary characters. Some pieces set me off to pondering questions. Another will color the air, fill a room with its distinct atmosphere, and wrap me in a mood that may linger for quite some time. As I worked on this piece, a certain type of tale kept creeping into my head.

I wonder. What stories are suggested to you by this one?

Getting My Ducks in a Row

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Several days ago, we went down to Cub Lake to take ourselves and Galen for a walk. The ducks with their new chicks were the bonus for our effort. It was my first time in weeks to carry a DSLR outside the house and I felt I could only manage the 24-105 mm lens for any length of time. The result was that I had to crop these like crazy. Nevertheless, it surely felt good to have a camera in my hand. 

The brief outing whetted my appetite. The deer are moving about in the valley—mamas with their babies also; some hawks have been hunting in the field west of the house. It is time to be out and about with a telephoto lens.

I should be safe driving by the end of next week—the incision at the top of the palm is markedly improved and the thumb is doing rather well—working on strength and flexibility. Between the creatures close to the house and being able to wander around in the valley, I have hopes of some local exploration.

In the meantime, I am simply enjoying the fact that we are finally into a kind of Spring here. After a brief spate of hot weather, we are back into a cooling trend and, supposedly, we will see the upper 70's during this next week.

A Macro Kind of Afternoon

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Note: Finally discovered that the link was missing. Better late than never?

On Sunday, I was in the mood for something different. The macro lens sounded promising. Since it hadn't been used in some time, it had actually been put away properly in the storage cabinet. But once I dug it out and it was on the old 40D, I remembered why I enjoyed it so much.

We were blessed with a glorious, sunny day and I decided to spend part of it wandering around our place, looking more closely at some of the odds and ends on our property. What with all the equipment The Husband has for horse-keeping and his penchant for doing his own repairs and much of the building, our place is littered with a mish-mash of vehicles, trailers, tools, gears, bolts, and hinges. Then there is the odd collection of memorabilia we have acquired along the way. I have to confess that I am mostly responsible for the odds and ends on the patio as well as the two pieces of old rusty farm equipment out front. 

The sun was springtime warm that day; there was only the slightest breeze; and I happily puttered about feasting on details. Later, after I had processed the handful of images that I wanted to keep, I was still smiling contentedly. All in all, it had been a thoroughly satisfying way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Perhaps on another sunny afternoon, I will check out some of the things in the pasture. And then when the tack room is further along....

A Foggy Sunday Afternoon

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Saturday, The Husband, Galen, and I went to Cub Lake for a walk. Well, it turns out that much of the surrounding paths and grassy areas are now part of the lake. Thanks to large puddles blocking the way, the walkways were fit for strolling only if you were wearing mud boots. I wasn't. We didn't. Instead, we meandered about in the areas up above the lake and across the road. We came home satisfied enough for the afternoon, but wondering where we were going to take our family walks while the Cub Lake recreation areas dries out.

We decided, Sunday morning, that the places to check were the Equestrian Center and Town Campground. Both are at considerably higher levels than Cub Lake, and we felt confident that we would find paths dry enough for comfortable walking. By noon, the fog had rolled in, and the 40 degree temperature was long gone. By the time we finished lunch and got on our way, the outdoor thermometer had dropped to 28 degrees and was still falling. Additionally, the fog had obliterated from sight all our outbuildings, as well as the houses across the way, and a family walk was no longer quite so appealing. Still, it seemed like a good day to at least enjoy a drive around the valley. We haven't lived here nearly long enough to feel ho-hum about the scenery—fog or no fog.

For the first time in weeks, I grabbed a camera for the short drive. Just like "the old days."  The notion of photographing in fog was tempting for me, Sunday, and I needed to do a good test drive on that 40D and 24-105 that had taken a nosedive. Why not? So it was too cold for wimpy me to spend much time outside. And what if there would be no twisting into contortions to take photos out the window. (Uh uh. Not on my permission list yet.) It would be fun just to look—and perhaps manage a photo or two.

Well, you can imagine how long my resolve lasted. Because I had taken the precaution to bundle up as though headed for the North Pole, I survived popping out of the car several times angling for oaks-in-fog shots.  It was a fun drive. By the time we got home, I was looking forward to some time in front of the fireplace; but, I thawed out quickly. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon.