Paradise and Mush

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

It definitely ain't art, but I just wanted to show you one of the things I will have to leave behind at our little home. The Birds of Paradise were here when we moved in and they have survived all our sputtering attention and neglect. They have not only survived, they have treated us to a grand display of outrageous color each and every year. They will be sorely missed.

With the bedlam here, I missed an opportunity to celebrate a tiny anniversary this week. The post on the 26th was post number one hundred. I should have had a small celebration.

For the last couple of days even if I take a break to sit down at the computer, I stare at the screen, but nothing happens. My brain has turned to mush. I think one or two neurons might be firing—might be. This moving thing is for young people, or the wealthy. (Some days I fantasize about what it would be like to simply direct others to do all this work. I could just walk around directing others to handle the chores.) I have read numerous fascinating entries in the blogs I visit most days (all the Paul's—Butzi, Lester, and Maxim—have been posting some wonderful material. Meanwhile, Doug Stockdale continues to describe his progression as he develops a series and enlightens the rest of us in in the process. But, I sit like a lump unable to articulate my admiration for their work, much less add anything to the conversation. Since the 2008 Great Rebellion of my digestive system, those jolts of caffeine that can coax a few more neurons to fire are no longer an option. I would love to tell you stories about The Husband sanding and painting the front door (we are still tweaking and polishing); the relief of finally being on the market, our one day trip to Bear Valley delivering still more boxes. But, I couldn't do any of them justice. So, I will settle for letting you know there are stories—just not today.

The End of Phase One—Finally

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

The trees got trimmed; the deck got painted; still more boxes got filled; who knows how many trips were made to the thrift store to donate items that should have been gotten rid of a long time ago; furniture got rearranged and some was moved out of the house. We were pretty much there last week, but I got sick (stress does wicked thing to the body, doesn’t it?) and then we got inspired to do more. So, we spent another week, doing still more tweaking, polishing, and “set dressing”. The Husband and I are exhausted, but we got a passing grade. Whoopee! We go on the market this weekend. I know, I know “the market is dead”. Still, someone is buying, and we are prepared to be exceptions. The main thing is that phase one is behind us. Today, Carey, our LA realtor, (we have our LA realtor and our Bear Valley realtor—lucky us, both fantastic ladies) told us that sometimes going through this ordeal wrecks marriages. Now, she tells us. I think we were working so hard that we were too tired to fight.

The only photography I have done is taking pictures for Carey. (Hey, it was better than not taking pictures at all.) Actually, it was a great experience, since I knew nothing about taking photos for marketing a house. Because I had neither the time, nor the energy, to do anything fancy, I kept it verrrry simple and shot with the on-camera flash. Still, she liked what I got, so I guess I learned a few things along the way.

I dipped into the Colorado folder for the photo above.

KISS

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

I have been reading some of Mark Hobson’s posts at The Landscapist, and he has posted some very useful information for making a photo book. His choice among the POD printers is Shutterfly. Ding! I had completely put out of my mind the fact that a little over a year ago I ordered a book from Shutterfly. It wasn’t wonderful, but that was pretty much all my fault. I have learned a great deal since then—that seems like a long time ago. Besides, on that occasion, I simply used their templates, and I wouldn’t do that again. Still, I have some experience with that setup, and this would save me the angst of searching for the right printer and familiarizing myself with another printer’s format. I also found very appealing Mark’s suggestion to simply do the layout in Adobe Photoshop, forget learning another program, and feel free to keep the text to a minimum. Hooray! I’m in favor of all that. Perhaps, my favorite part of Mark's posts were his advice to keep it simple. All too frequently, I forget that old wisdom, KISS—Keep It Simple, Stupid.

The idea of getting 35 shots I can bear to have printed in a book is still intimidating. Plus, I will have to lay the book out page by page in Photoshop—I stopped with Adobe Pagemaker (that was way back) and never made my peace with InDesign. I can save that challenge for next year. Nevertheless, I feel encouraged. Now, if the theme I have in mind just holds up to scrutiny and we ever sell our house—and we ever move, and I ever have time to pick a camera again!

That Blasted Hourglass

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

Some people (Let’s face it women, mostly. Because, over all, we do more housework than men do. ) talk about housework being conducive to a meditative state. After all, you don’t burn a lot of brain cells dusting and scrubbing. The greatest percentage of your mind is free to wander.

Lately, I have been doing A Lot of housework and my mind is wandering in ways that are not necessarily productive. Now, some of the woolgathering is devoted to soul-stirring images of life in Bear Valley. Pictures of sunsets replete with breathtaking clouds swimming in shimmering golds, hawks swooping down in the meadow grass just beyond our back door, deer wandering across our pasture land and stopping to graze, our horses gamboling in the field with the Tehachapi’s as a backdrop—pretty sweet stuff. On the other hand, some stuff creeps into my head that is not so comforting. Lately, one image that returns all too frequently is that of the blasted hourglass of time. (Natuarlly, this is partially connected to The Book. SoFoBoMo, that is.) But, here’s what’s troubling. That sand in my hourglass isn’t passing through to the bottom slowly and smoothly, as it should. The darned thing is functioning more like a funnel—and I’m talking about a biiiig funnel—one you would use for flour, or rocks, for crying out loud.

SoFoBoMo Dreams—or Nightmares

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

Hard as I try to stay focused on cleaning the house (our realtor comes Tuesday morning and she is a tough grader), my mind keeps drifting to thoughts of photo books. Of course, I pretty much need a theme I can shoot in our new home in Bear Valley. By April 1, the date the SoFoBoMo season opens, we expect to be moving, or at least spending a great deal of time at our new place. Choosing a theme that tied me to my current area would be awkward, to say the least. I have tried to come up with a theme that capitalizes on the current chaos in my life, but so far, nada. More than once, I have “settled” on a theme, then picked at it a couple of days, and discovered it doesn’t hold up for me.

Yesterday, as I cleaned and listened to rock music from of the “British Invasion” on FM, my mind wandered as usual to the photobook, and I hit on another idea. (Must have been The Stones or maybe it was The Animals. Hmm. One of those themes might work in Bear Valley. No, not really.) Now, let’s see if this idea lasts more than two or three days. I’ll give it a few days before saying it out loud. In the meantime, I have been spending every second I can excuse from work reading the blogs of other participants. Everyone is incredibly generous with information and research. I am rapidly learning that the best part of this entire project is being a tiny, tiny piece of this great group-adventure. While I am nearly paralyzed with fear about this thing, I know I am going to learn so much that it will be worth the scare.

Several bloggers are posting useful information about the SoFoBoMo challenge. I have already mentioned Paul Butzi (The Instigator) and Doug Stockdale, who generously shares his thoughts about his own journey. In the last couple of days, Colin Jago has posted a list of all the participants with links and John Seltzer has created a new blog dedicated to SoFoBoMo, complete with a blogroll including all who have accepted the challenge. A great big "thank you" to all the guys who contribute so much. Of course, now any hopes I may have harbored about slinking along the edges of this, blessedly unnoticed, have gone up in smoke. John's new site is titled, "Tell The World". Now, it's official. If I make a fool of myself, the whole world will know.

Our Little Bit of Heaven

Well, folks, what do you think? We believe it has potential. Sure, there is a lot of work to be done, but it's a great location.

Only kidding. This is the real McCoy. This is where we will soon be hanging our hats.

You do know the camera can lie like crazy, don’t you? I feel compelled to admit that just beyond the garage (on the left side of the picture) there is a fence; and right over that fence, you would see our neighbor’s house, barn, and horses in their pastures. Furthermore, if I had stood on our front porch and taken a picture facing that way, you would see, all the neighbors’ places on the other side of the road. But, our place looks so wonderfully idyllic, so private and “country” this way. After all, I didn’t add anything to the photograph, and I didn’t delete anything after the fact. It’s just what I chose to leave out of the frame. Tricky, I know, but photographers do this sort of thing.

Even with the confession of framing the scene to best advantage, can you see why we call it our Big Sky country? At last, we have a place where The Husband can finally play at being gentleman rancher. Meanwhile, The Wife can chronicle the stories of “A Man and his Bush Hog” (that's the tractor, in case you know as little about tractors as I do), “The Gentleman Rancher and the Arabian Steeds”, and “The City Slickers Go Country—Sort Of”.

The SoFoBoMo Challenge

A couple of weeks ago, obviously in the dark of night, someone impersonating me went to one of my favorite blogs, Paul Butzi’s site (http://photomusings.wordpress.com/) and signed me up for a gigantic challenge. I know it was an imposter who did this dirty deed because I have better sense than to sign myself up for the SoFoBoMo challenge. I would have known better because the prospect of shooting and processing thirty-five images, laying out those images in the form of a photo book, transferring everything to a PDF file, and posting the entire thing on the web all in the space of thirty days is something only a really savvy or really foolish person would attempt, even in the best of circumstances. To begin with, I don’t fancy myself in either of those categories. But, more importantly, I am too shrewd to take on that sort of challenge while adjusting to retirement from my life’s work, packing and cleaning a household where stuff has accumulated over a period of twenty years, getting said house on the market, then unpacking and moving into a strange house about which I know little. I mean I have done some silly things in my life, but this is over the top. Still, here I am. My name is on that fool list—right there on the Internet for all the world to see. To make things worse, another favorite Photoblogger, Doug Stockdale (http://singularimages.wordpress.com/) has also signed up and knows my name is on that list. I suppose I will have to give it a go.

Sunsets and Surprises

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

For several days, we had planned a work-trip to Bear Valley for some errands. We needed to deliver a few boxes we simply had no place to stash (the storage unit is bulging and forget the garage), plus we had to buy The Husband’s tractor. It was looking like a pretty routine trip, except for the snow we knew we would find, and knowing that there’s a reason they call the hill between the house and the main gate “Domino Hill”. (Picture toppling dominoes, then substitute cars on a slippery road. Got it?). So, we scheduled the trip, canceled it due to closed highways (snow), and kept working. I was looking forward to seeing the house for the first time without someone else’s things in it. In a moment of giddy anticipation, I teased The Husband that when on the momentous occasion of finally entering our house—meaning it finally would no longer be just the house, but our house—he should carry me over the threshold. Sure enough, he narrowed his eyes and shot me one of those sideways looks that said, “Don’t hold your breath.” I went on with my endless sorting and packing and pondered whether I might see any of the critters we had heard about on our last trip. We had heard tales of raccoons, Betty, the Hawk (who perches on our roof scouting for taste treats in the meadow grass), mountain lions, brazen coyotes, king snakes, deer, and I-don’t-what-I-may-have-left-out roaming our little piece of heaven. The prospect of getting a picture of any of the above was delicious, so I stole time over the two days before the trip to format a couple of CF cards and charge batteries. Two days after the cancellation, we had a sunny day and took off. Ever the optimist—I stashed some camera gear in between boxes. I was hoping for a few minutes to do a little shooting before the light was lost and maybe a nice sunset, or even to spot a critter. There were a few surprises in store for our humdrum work trip.

After the long, but uneventful drive, we got past the desert and climbed to the snow. It was surprisingly deeper than the last time we were up there. Still, we zipped through the tiny town near our valley, and moments later we were at the entrance to Bear Valley. The moment we passed through the main gate, I began trying to remember how far it was to the infamous Domino Hill. But, before I had time to get anxious, we were there. The snowplow had done its job, and we continued to breeze along enjoying the winter scene around us.

Finally, Our House. Right there in our own Big Sky country. Then, as we made the turn off the road to our drive, we jolted to a stop. The small berm just off the road that had been left by the snowplow was a little high and six inches of snow covering our drive had not been cleared. Fortunately, it turned out to be a brief hesitation. The tires of the SUV (I had been thinking ahead when I picked that car) grabbed some traction, and over we went, then on to the back of the house where we planned to enter.

As we crunched through the snow toward our back door, The Husband suddenly stopped in his tracks, turned to me, and said, “Wait.” I stopped, not knowing what to expect as he approached me. Then, lo and behold, he swooped me up in his arms, and carried me inside! You should have heard the music swell! What can I say? The man is full of surprises—and many of them are deliciously pleasant. I wandered around for a few minutes in a daze, simply glowing. I was stunned by the princess-treatment, but mostly reeling from the realization that The Husband had actually heard something I said—and remembered it! As I regained my equilibrium, I watched the Prince, himself, begin to glow. Naturally, he wasn’t beaming with the satisfaction of having carried his princess over the threshold of his castle—thank goodness there are no stairs. Oh, no, nothing of the kind. He had easily forgotten about princely gestures. While I had basked in my princess-hood, The Husband had handed over the check to the previous owner of our house and was, as of that defining moment, the proud owner of a like-new New Holland TC29DA tractor—with a whole bundle of accessories. (Do they call those things accessories?)

It was a wonderful day—sunset and all. I think we are going back for Valentine’s Day.

Town Center Campground

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

I found another image from the Town Center Campground that I wanted to share. If you ever make it to Bear Valley, you may very well find me there. We were supposed to make a trip up there today for some errands, but some highway closures resulted in a change of plans.

Okay, back to cleaning, repairing and packing. I would so much rather make pictures!

An Original

(Click on the thumbnail to view larger image)

If Jim and I have our facts straight, this barn is the only surviving structure from the ranch that covered the valley we will be living in. The property was purchased and developed in the early 1970's. I am eager to find time for research on the area.