Down Memory Lane and into a Ditch

Paul Lester and Mark Graf are responsible for taking up a great deal of my time last week. On January 6th, Paul Lester set this all in motion by asking some interesting questions about the subject of all those photos that we never make public. Now, he couldn’t leave well enough alone, but continued to probe this issue until he got Mark Graf stirred up. Finally, Mark followed by challenging his readers to dig through old files and rescue some photos from “picture purgatory”. Naturally, Paul responded with a couple of beautiful shots that I almost certainly would have shown immediately. Irresponsible behavior, if you ask me. Sure, "picture purgatory" is a delightfully descriptive phrase and one that I will long use, but this business of tempting suggestible types to set aside their work and spend valuable time poring over old photos is inexcusable. No conscience, there’s the truth of it. Shameful.

Of course, all their talk got to me, and before I came to my senses I was turning on external drives that don’t always get cranked up and searching old files for lost treasure. Big mistake. Mostly, I realized that the photos I examined frankly are in picture purgatory precisely because they belong there. I did some deleting, but too many were left on those drives. I kept them because I found, repeatedly, that while I wasn’t moved to share the photos, many of them reminded me of a time or a place, and I wasn’t quite ready to let go of the memento. I did enjoy poring over a folder of photos from a shoot of one of our horses that had gone well. Then, I spent far too much time processing a couple of those. I am holding Paul and Mark directly responsible for my failure to meet those deadlines that I had given myself last week.

Dropping all the mock outrage, I will admit that I enjoyed very much the challenge and the trip down memory lane—thanks Paul and Mark (most likely, I wouldn’t have met those deadlines anyway)—and, eventually, I probably will dig out more of those shots to post here. The one that I ultimately chose for this post reminds me of the times spent at various points along the Little Tujunga Wash. This was one of those shots that I had pretty much ignored at the time and had forgotten about. It’s nothing special, but it reminds me of so many of the scenes from the wash and I enjoyed going back in time, for a few moments. Still, in spite of the entertaining trip down memory lane, most of my future time will be spent making more photos. Not because I need to, but because there never are enough, and I am no where close to being done with soaking up the world that I live in.

The Joys of Retirement

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Commit to new project. Clarify deadlines. Research completed. Progress underway. Delays encountered. Commit to another project. Clarify deadlines. Progress on both projects underway. Expand first project. More deadlines. More progress. Complete first project. Delays on second project. Add still another project. Attempt to juggle deadlines. Postpone one project. Research long-term project. And, so on.

Ahh. I’m enjoying this time to just sit back and relax. Now, I forget—did we end up bringing a rocking chair, after all? Must ask The Husband about that.

Angels of Ditson Street

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The last days of packing up the garden items were taken care of by The Husband long after we both were tired and completely burned out on packing and moving. He worked hard and alone on a couple of trips, leaving me in Bear Valley Springs since I was no help lifting the heavy items anyway. Because I wasn’t there to see things packed, it didn’t come as a total shock to me when I recently began looking for some things that I couldn’t find. Specifically, I was looking for the angel who guarded the furthest corner of the back yard—the area I called the secret garden largely due to its being shrouded in the limbs of the apricot tree and dozens of potted plants along with the old wooden garden furniture. The angel is tall and graceful with a lovely smile, and I always considered her the mother of all the wounded angels that I had collected over the years. Ultimately, we gave up the search and realized that the angel, along with a few other items, had been overlooked that last trip that The Husband made to clear out everything in the yard.

Hope was restored when I inadvertently sent an order to the old Ditson address. In a bleary-eyed moment, I obviously failed to notice that the ship-to address wasn’t current. Because the husband had an impending business trip to make to Los Angeles, it seemed that order would be restored. The angel would come to live with us and her little band of children; the package would finally arrive; all would be fine.

When The Husband arrived to pick up the package, as pre-arranged with the new owners of the house on Ditson, he asked about the angel and sure enough there she was proudly ensconced on the deck—perhaps lonely without her family, but still smiling and looking lovely, I am told. The gentleman assured The Husband that certainly it would be fine for him to take the angel, but just then the man’s wife came outside and was brought up to date on the conversation. The Husband saw her face fall when she heard the news and when pressed she asked if she could buy the angel, since she had come to think of her as blessing their new home. Well, The Husband didn’t have the heart to remove a blessing from the home of the new owners. They are lovely people and seem to be extremely happy and excited about their home. This was only their fourth Chrismas in the USA, and they are not only crazy about this country, but thrilled to have their very own home in such a beautiful place.

Of course, I will miss my angel, but she is still very much at home, and I will remember her fondly as she continues to oversee the little house that was our home for so many years. The story is a little late in the telling, yet it still seems a fitting one for this time of year. May our angel smile over the house and grounds, along with the new family, and may they all be safe and happy for many years to come.

Blogging While Under the Influence

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Frank Armstrong called attention to an oversight in yesterday’s post, but I am claiming temporary mental incompetence due to the influence of a stubborn and nasty stomach upset. Frank's comment, makes it clear that I left the impression I am dreaming of cameras and lenses. I meant to say that I dreamed of using my cameras and lenses. Omitting a critical word from a sentence is almost never a good idea. It leaves far too much room for wrong impressions.

Of course, I admit to fleeting daydreams about owning cameras that are more sophisticated than the ones that I own, but I am painfully aware of my own need to rise to the level of the cameras that I do have. When I daydream 2009, I am using cameras and lenses even more regularly than I do now. 2008 represented, for me, a big jump in the numbers of photos taken. I have reached that point now where it is difficult for me to leave the house without my camera. I feel a bit naked if I don’t have at least one with me. The 40D has made more trips now to the Tehachapi Albertson’s than I ever imagined. Although I don’t photograph every moment that the camera is with me, I do feel that I need it on my shoulder, just in case. While in 2007 I may have shot one or two days a week, I now take at least a few photos an average of five or six days out of the week. (Well, I confess that the last couple of days I haven’t picked up the camera, but I had, ahem, other matters to occupy my full attention.)

I still count myself in the early stages of this obsession with making pictures. I read, I experiment, I take hundreds of shots—each month, far more than will ever be seen by anyone other than myself. Of course, all this raises the question, “Why aren’t I a better photographer, by now?” That’s a question I am not ready to tackle today. My stomach isn’t steady enough for that level of self-examination.

Thanks, Frank, for sending me back to this post. I use daydreaming and imagery to point my consciousness in certain directions and without specifics I could succeed in aiming myself toward a ditch.

P.S. Doug Stockdale alerted me to a glitch here at Blogger. He tried to leave a Happy New Year wish and was repeatedly rejected. I hope that issue is resolved by now.

Happy New Year!

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Happy New Year to one and all.

I have been fighting a bug for a couple of days and guess who's winning. I'll be back soon—after my head and stomach stop spinning in opposite directions, with photos and cheery posts about what's happening in Bear Valley Springs.

I had been doing some reviewing of good old 2008 and thinking about what 2009 holds. While 2008 ended in what was not exactly the difference between a bang and a whimper—it was more of a dull thud, I am looking forward to to this new kid. I don't make hard and fast resolutions, but I am big on dreams and fantasies of what the coming year will bring. Mostly those mental images revolve around light, cameras, and lenses. But, that's just part of the bigger picture. I have already dreamed enough stories to fill up two years.

Happy New Year!

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An Old-Fashioned Christmas

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The Husband and I didn’t have any big plans for our Christmas, but we knew what we were having for dinner (the buffalo meat was on the counter thawing) and we planned to finish the 2008 Christmas Card Project—late, yes, but we hoped to be forgiven for the slip-up this year.

We had read all the storm warnings and it certainly sounded as though we were in for a big one, this time. But, typical of weather predictions, the forecast was way off and instead of “up to” twelve inches of snow, we got about two inches. There was something the weather channel didn’t predict, however, and that was the power failure. The power went off just before 4:00 PM and didn’t come back on in our part of Bear Valley Springs until 5:30 AM this morning.

(Stupid me, I had my computer on when the power failed—trying to get those last photos printed, along with the postcard inserts containing all our new contact information. The computer is fine, by the way, and I am busily printing again today.)

When it became clear that the power failure wasn’t to be a momentary glitch, we set about our preparations for coping. Using the battery-operated lanterns, we scrounged through the garage looking for the candles and the candle-holders that we knew were there somewhere. While we found the candles, we ended up mostly devising makeshift holders.

Our Christmas evening was our quietest ever. We had never had a completely candlelit Christmas. It’s one we will remember. After spreading the candles about and getting all the fireplaces going, we enjoyed Christmas evening—even if we did have simple bowls of soup for our Christmas dinner. It made us think of what Christmas was like long ago.

A Christmas Project

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Several days ago, The Husband got this crazy idea that we should make Christmas cards. Since I am normally the one with this very type of crazy idea, it's no wonder that I fell for it. Of course, with my particular mental problems, it has turned into a major project and I have been having a grand time. I am enjoying the process even though I made the undertaking for more complicated than it should have been; I’m still making cards; and, our greetings will now be absurdly late. Oh, well. When the cards finally do arrive, it will be the thought that counts. Right? Please tell me that’s not a lie.

In the meantime, merry, merry Christmas to all. And, of course, best wishes for a most Happy, Hanukkah.

Snow and Ice

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You know the phrase “kid in a candy store”? Well, that just about perfectly describes me during the past week. We had snow three days out of five and it only really began to melt yesterday. As we warmed up to 40 degrees yesterday, the sunshine has begun to have it’s way with the pristine white blanket covering the valley. Before the thaw began, I took hundreds of photographs. I took far more shots than will ever be processed, much less posted or shown anywhere. The joy was in the seeing.

My pleasure in the exploration was compounded by the fact that The Husband is also passionate about seeing. I think I have mentioned that he studied photography “in his youth” and while he lost his passion for the camera, he still has that eye. He drove—partly because he knows that I remain reluctant to drive when the roads are icy, but largely because he wanted to share in the seeing adventure. Having an enthusiastic companion made the adventure even more delicious. We drank in the sights—oohing and aahing aplenty; I squandered millions of pixels; ultimately, we came home each day tipsy from binging on the splendor of snow- covered fields and white peaks reaching toward the sky.

Winter Wonderland

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We have had our first snow of the winter. (Yes, I know winter hasn’t technically begun, but, like many, I have always thought of winter as beginning right after Thanksgiving, even though I know better.)

Bear Valley Springs has been a winter wonderland for the last few days. We have had just enough snow to be picturesque, but not so much that the snow plows are totally overwhelmed. Since we are on the valley floor and on the main road, the snow plow is here early and we aren’t snowed in.

Still, this morning while out enjoying the scenery in our new world, we began to ascend a hill that just yesterday had been completely safe only to find that today was a different story. With the temperature at 28 degrees, we came around a curve as we ascended the hill and saw not the blacktop with a sprinkle of gravel that we had seen yesterday, but ice. Because the challenge was too much for my car without chains, The Husband was forced to stop and cautiously back down the hill for several yards until we came to a driveway that would permit turning around. No more trying Oak Flat without chains in this type of weather. Not only are chains (or four wheel drive) encouraged for all of Bear Valley Springs during this weather, if you leave the valley in a two wheel drive vehicle and the weather gets really bad you may not be allowed to drive your vehicle back in. We have been informed that those who get stranded park outside the gate and hitchhike in on those occasions.

With several inches of snow having fallen over the last three days, I have been saying it’s a winter wonderland and it’s a wonder that I am living here. Funny about the resolutions we make, isn’t it? After one visit to New York City at Christmas time and an ill-advised youthful adventure that took me to a part of the Rocky Mountains far too close to the Canadian border, I had sworn never again to spend time north of the Mason-Dixon line. After all, as a Texan first (and that would be central Texas where snow is something you see every decade or so) and then a southern Californian, I am not built for cold weather. Of course, I will survive and I must admit that I find Bear Valleys Springs' winter attire quite fetching. I want to be taking photographs every minute. Alas, life interferes.

I did get a few other things accomplished besides taking photos of snow scenes. Thanks to the weather, I was able to draft The Husband for an indoor project. We placed some things up on the ledge in our living room. Our house is relatively new and the main living area has one of those graduated ceilings with a ledge at the higher end. While they are meant for decorating. I think they are best for collecting dust that I, for one, couldn’t possibly get to.

Now, this shouldn’t imply in any way that I am constantly on the lookout for any speck of dust in this house. Oh, if only ‘twere true. I’m simply observing that on those occasions when I am moved to dust, I couldn’t get to this ledge as it is about ten feet from the ground, and I don’t do extension ladders. I think I have a very good reason for my aversion to step ladders with my history of broken bones and mild fear of heights.

Besides, fortunately for me, The Husband shares none of my limitations. Thus, after venturing into our cold storage vault (that would be the garage) we dragged tons of stuff inside, separated it into piles on the floor and proceeded to decorate. I have been calling what we did ranching up the place. (Our house in Shadow Hills had a bit of a cottage feel what with all the trees, bushes, birds, and hummingbirds just outside large windows and sliding glass doors. Now, the look that felt so perfect for that house seems quite out of place in this house and on this place of land. Since we can’t possibly afford new furniture and new accessories, it’s time to improvise and create some new combinations of things we have. Goodness knows that with our garage stuffed nearly ceiling high we have plenty of stuff. I imagine this process will continue for rather a long time, since I have such trouble putting down the camera and getting away from the computer.