Window Seats and Bounce Flash

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The window seat in the title is obvious. The critter is Galen, the Shetland Sheepdog—obvious if you have read my blog for a while. The bounce flash? That's another story, but a very short one.

Shortest story first. When I first began getting the hang of using off-camera flash, I struggled, but I have learned some basics. I soon learned that it allowed me to get some photos that would otherwise be impossible, and I learned to take the bad with the good. When I took these photos just after Christmas last year, there wasn't nearly enough light in our bedroom to make a photograph and bouncing the flash off the wall allowed me to capture the moment. I imagined the pictures being something that would make us smile and remember the day Galen discovered the window seat. It would be a charming occasion to recall.

Hah! Turns out the window seat was not a passing fancy with young master Galen. He is quite taken with it, thank you. It makes a fine perch from which one can survey one's back yard. This is a most  important task, don't you know. There are birds out there that bear watching. Moreover, you can never tell when one of those smelly underground creatures will pop up out of one of those holes out there, or some cat will have the gall to ignore the fence. It pays to keep an eye on one's kingdom.

Alas, watching over an entire yard, in addition to one's humans (not to mention toys) is a considerable responsibility for a puppy. Having a lookout tower of sorts offers a welcome advantage to a dog of rather small stature. Windows are placed unecessarily far from the floor and give a poor dog almost no help at all.  A nice wood window seat is also cooler than the carpet, when one's belly wants a bit of relief from the heat. So, you can see that, all in all, window seats are lovely things.

Last night our watchdog decided that he needed Pony to assist him with his responsibilities. He jumped up on the window seat, holding Pony in his mouth, and settled down to the task of surveying his realm by the light of a full moon. By that time, The Husband and I were already snug in bed. I wasn't about to climb out from under the covers and try to make a picture. Perhaps the ones here will get things started and your imagination can fill in the details.

A Heartbreaker

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Had you met Giovanni, he would have broken your heart. You got to know this horse at your own emotional risk.

My friend at Silent Night Farms, L, rescues a lot of horses. I have watched over the years as the lives of numerous wild mustangs and abandoned animals were turned around by this generous woman. All those heart-warming stories have touched me, but none prepared me for the saga of this chestnut gelding.

For four long years, Giovanni had been starved by the excuse for a human being who owned him. When my friend took him under her wing, the young gelding was nothing more than a skeleton with dull hide draped over it. The veterinarian said, “This horse is dead. He just doesn’t know it yet. In the past, you have done some amazing work bringing horses back from the brink, but I don’t think you have a chance with this one.” L was not to be deterred. She continued to shower the shell of a horse with care; and, gradually, he began adding flesh to the bones. His pathetic coat acquired color and a hint of shine. His progress was slow and painful, but steady. Still, the worst news was yet to come.

The years of abuse and neglect had left Giovanni with severe neurological damage.

He was left unsteady, constantly trying to find his balance point, and never quite certain where his feet were going to land. But, he was kind, gentle, curious, and you couldn't help but fall in love. On our 2010 spring trip, the Husband went in the gelding’s corral to distract him from the fence, so I would have an opportunity to take some photos, and the chestnut began following him like a sweet and inquisitive puppy. I had trouble focusing my camera. Tears aren’t conducive to sharp photos.

I am always happy to have a camera in my hand, and when I am surrounded by beautiful horses—well, that's about as good as it can get in my book. I had left home confident that I would have a wonderful time at Silent Knight Farms—I always do. And, I always come home with stacks of bulging full memory cards and hours of processing work ahead of me. But nothing prepared me for photographing Giovanni—for the privilege of sharing time with this amazing animal. It was an opportunity that I will always treasure.

A few months later, the gelding with the indomitable spirit was gone. He had finally come to the end of his short and painful journey. I hope you enjoyed your lease on life with L, Giovanni. You touched all of us, and we won’t forget you. Your story reminds us of the evil of which humans are capable. Your courage, will to live, and gentle nature—in spite of your lot in life—inspires and humbles us. It was a joy to see the light in your soft eyes. I was humbled by my challenge and hope that I captured something of your remarkable spirit.

The Internal Fog

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Even with the sun shining brightly, there are days when I struggle to clear the foggy mist from my brain. In this case, the perpetrator of the fog was the surgery in November; but, there are many events that can produce an internal mist that engulfs the brain. I have always experienced a similar miasma after the loss of a loved one.

That period of stumbling about, losing one's way in the half-light, is disorienting, at best. Still, I like to believe that during that lost period, we are processing and sorting material that will shape us and eventually find it's way into expression, if we will only give it the opportunity.

I'm never wise enough to fully grasp the meaning of this experience, much less articulate it. I only know that once the fog has completely lifted, nothing looks quite the same. During the recovery period, I almost always long to "be myself" again.  Inevitably, however, when the edges of my world grow sharper and the colors more vibrant, I find that nothing is exactly as I remembered. Including me.

The Camera Gear Bug

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Late last Spring, I experienced a serious itch for new camera gear. Do you suppose it had anything to do with Spring. Like an allergy, maybe. New life? Growth? Whatever the rationale, I made one purchase back then that I am still very happy about. For some time, I had been running across rave reviews for the Hoodman Loupe and I was curious; but, frankly, couldn’t believe all the hype. Surely, it couldn’t be that good. Well, it is.

I ordered the Loupe for the scheduled trip to Silent Knight Farms knowing that, thanks to a full schedule, much of my photography would be done during the middle of the day. You know what I'm referring to. The time of day when viewing the LCD is frustrating at best, unless, of course, you find some deep shade close by. Although the price tag was enough to make me think, I placed the order. Having long been aggravated when attempting to check exposure in bright sunlight, I was motivated. Yes, I fully appreciate the function of the histogram—I have been relying on it for years. Still, I wanted a closer look at the images, and I wanted that look while in the heat of action. I wanted to see details that would help me make those on-the-fly adjustments, in real time. A little chimping sometimes saves me from exposure mess-ups. But chimping is pure frustration, if you can't see the darn screen.

When far from home, I am particularly reliant on my LCD since my laptop is four or five years old and doesn’t have a great screen. That top-of-the-line new laptop is also on the dream-on list along with that camera. Meanwhile, if on the road, I need to get by with reviewing images on a so-so monitor that gives me only a rough idea of what they will look like on my desktop monitor at home. If I were super-confident, I wouldn’t agonize. But, I’m not; so, I do. I need a little assurance that I have something to look forward to, when I get home—something that won’t plunge me into a deep funk.

The Hoodman Loupe fulfills that need and now looks like a super bargain to me. Like some others whose reviews I have read, I am wondering, “Why did I wait so long?! What a dummy! ” Thanks to the Loupe, I slept better at night during that trip. Back home, I found that, indeed, my images did look more like what I saw on my LCD than what I saw on my laptop monitor. Now, I am wondering why I waited so long to get the thing.

This Is Only a Test

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Click this link for more of my work.

I am experimenting with Blogger. My head is reeling. Hardly know my name.

A little bit of knowledge is a verrrrrrry dangerous thing. Furthermore, children should not be allowed to play with sharp objects.

And, yes, the photo was previously posted. So, sue me! Sorry, a little on edge. No matter how many times this infernal post goes up, try to ignore it.  

Honest, this phase won't last long. I only do this sort of thing on rare occasion and once I recover I stay away from sharp objects for a very long time.

Why Eat When You Can Run?

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If you ever consider getting a Shetland Sheepdog and do any research, some of the things you learn may give you pause. One is the issue of grooming. The Sheltie coat is thick with quite an undercoat. The other drawback is that Shelties (as they are often called) are extremely high energy dogs. You can either have a well-exercised dog and enjoy the relationship, or a dog who doesn't get exercised and drives you absolutely bonkers.

Galen is a fairly typical Shetland Sheepdog. Very thick coat and, unfortunately, we are not responsible groomers. Shame on us. Fortunately, the grooming hassle with Shelties is offset, in my opinion, by the unusual habit they have of bathing themselves. As a result, they stay surprisingly clean. In the exercise department, however, there are no mitigating factors. Too many hours without some sort of play and this pup is a madman. Furthermore, like most dogs of his breed, he has a bark that will make your ears bleed. Believe me, when he gets nutty, there is no peace. With some exercise, he is extremely well-behaved. Without his workouts, there is misery afoot.

Galen has a good appetite; but, with a choice between eating and running, it's no contest.  He is of the opinion that while food can always wait, one should never pass up an opportunity to get outside and run. We make it a point to see that our pup get gets some exercise every day. Although the Husband has carried the brunt of that workload for weeks, I am beginning to be able to pick up a bit of the slack. It is a joy to watch our energetic pup flying around his little domain.

You can see some more photos of Galen enjoying life, Sheltie style, at these links 6510 and 6528. The links will take you to two more action shots.

SanDisk and Shelties

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A belated but sincere "Thank you" to all who offered me information and the encouragement to switch to the SanDisk Extreme cards. I appreciate the responses to that long ago post. I finally got around to buying two of the Extreme cards and I am a happy shopper. Sure enough, the faster cards are not going to eliminate my yen for that 1D MarkII, but the superior performance of the Extreme cards somewhat eases the itch.

Truthfully, I couldn't manage a 1D now if one appeared on the dining room table. I am nowhere close to getting my reflexes up to speed, much less my arm and hand strength. But, I am relishing the improvement in those departments. I do enjoy the challenge of action photography.

When photographing a madly running Galen (or Lightning, as we call him occasionally), I genuinely appreciate any improvement in emptying that buffer. The upgrade in speed produced a slight twinge of pain in the wallet; nevertheless, I can't imagine now returning to my trusty old Ultra II's for action photography. Heck, who knows? I may end up with Extreme 1V's before you know it. Ouch, I think I felt that twinge again.

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.

Canon Tough

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I take reasonably good care of my cameras, but I most certainly don't baby them. They sit about the house, ready for action, and seldom see the inside of a camera bag. If we are going farther than a day trip, then I pack both the 50D and the now backup 40D along with extra lenses, flash, filters, extra batteries, battery chargers, tripod—the whole kit and kaboodle. Camera bags are the only sane way to go in those cases. Otherwise, you would find one or both cameras on a table or shelf close to the action. In the case of day trips, the camera is in my lap if I'm the passenger; and, if I'm driving,the passenger seat holds one (or both) cameras. You can see that I loathe digging in a camera bag when the impulse to press the shutter strikes.

Conversely, I don't treat my cameras roughly. I handle them with some thought, almost never change lenses outside the house or car, and it takes a quite compelling scene for me to use a DSLR in extremely windy and dusty conditions. All this means that I never really wear out a camera. My sadly outdated original Canon Rebel is in excellent condition.

Still, my 40D is strangely accident prone. When the camera and the 24-105mmL lens were only a few months old, The Husband and I were walking alongside a two-lane road in the mountains of Colorado. Naturally, I was absorbed in the scenery around me. Naturally for me, unfortunately, that meant that I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been to where my feet were. We were walking on uneven terrain that was at a slant anyway and I hit a patch of loose gravel. Before I knew what was happening I went down on the pavement, camera first. Eventually, I was grateful to find that the lens hood took the brunt of the blow—for the camera that is. I ended none the worse for wear—other than wounded pride—and the camera functioned beautifully the remainder of the trip. 

Late yesterday evening, I grabbed the 40D—that's where the 24-105mm lens was attached—and headed for the back door to see if I could catch some of the rich coral and lavender in the sky. To the west, the sunset wasn't anything to write home about. The clouds in the east, however, were a different matter. Quickly, I stepped outside and failed to give much attention to Galen who, of course, dashed out with me. "Whoopee! Outside! Playtime!", he thought. The pup sprang up, caught his foot in the camera strap that dangled down and Crash! Yet again, the 40D hit the concrete. It was a horrible sight. I saw the lens hood smack the patio surface, bounce, then it was the camera's turn. Shplat! With a thud the whole thing finally settled in a heap. 

Now, I really love having a second camera. Mostly, it's that lens-changing thing and I learned once that I don't want to be without a backup camera. Unfortunately, I can't brush off the cost of a new DSLR and a replacement L lens. My heart was right there on the concrete beside the camera gear. I scooped it up—the camera that is. (Who remembers rules about bending from the waist in a situation like that?)  Nothing obvious in the way of serious damage. A sizable ding on the body and some rather nasty battle scars on the lens hood, but the camera seemed to focus, the zoom functioned, and when I tried multiple buttons everything seemed to be in working order. Of course, I will do further testing of the battered gear today to make sure everything works, but I am reasonably assured that I got lucky.

Thanks Canon for making an affordable DSLR that will take some body slams and continue to do the job. Now, if you could help me learn to watch where my feet are and keep my camera strap out of puppy range....

How to Spoil a Woman

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Yes, The Husband gets a little grief here, now and then. But, don't think for a moment that I don't recognize and appreciate my good fortune. I know full well that he spoils me rotten. I am a very fortunate woman. Let me tell you about one of the ways he pampers me.

For far too many weeks (since late September last year), I spent more time in bed than is normal for me. That time in bed wasn't restful. It was only to minimize the throbbing in back and legs, and there was many a sleepless night. Recently, I am doing much, much better. But, when my back first got really bad, The Husband began reading to me to help us both fall asleep. Although the reading certainly doesn't stop the aching, it is a most healthy distraction from the fears enlivened by the lingering pain. 

We began this habit of reading to one another, before we were married. Back then, we read several books this way—trading chapters reading to one another. These days, The Husband does all the work. I sink down to snuggle beneath the covers and close my eyes, while he does a superb job of bringing the story to life. The day fades away as he reads,  and the pain loses ground to the unfolding story. Soon, I am lost in the make-believe world.

Currently, he is reading The Secret Garden, a book I fondly remember from my childhood. Because I have long forgotten the details of the story, Mary Lennox's adventure is brand new for me. I doubt that I was any more enchanted by the book back then than I am now. It's a  pleasant way to fall asleep—whisked away from my own doubts and fears into a magical world—far from harsh realities.

Now, that is how to spoil a woman.