Ah the fun that an old man can have with the simplicity of a small piece of an already beautiful thing. How light reflects, creates shadows, small valleys and rises. The color, already vibrant, can be made to seem to make a solid into transparency. All with the simplicity of a bloom and a small maglite. Add the fact that in can all be done within the comfort of eighty degrees when it’s 101 outside.
It somehow seems a bit of cheating the mindful practice, using artificial means to achieve what used to take hours of waiting until the natural light became what you needed or wanted. I long to be of the nature like Ansel Adams. I had read of the lengths that Mr Adams would go (or wait) for the images to form to his liking. But then I read his description of the making of his haunting image: Moonrise over Espanola.
From Ansel Adams, in Examples:
“We were sailing southward along the highway not far from Espanola(NM) when I glanced to the left and saw an extraordinary situation—an inevitable photograph! I almost ditched the car and rushed to set up my 8×10 camera. I was yelling to my companions to bring me things from the car as I struggled to change components on my Cooke Triple-Convertible lens. I had a clear visualization of the image I wanted, but when the Wratten No. 15 (G) filter and the film holder were in place, I could not find my Weston exposure meter! The situation was desperate: the low sun was trailing the edge of the clouds in the west, and shadow would soon dim the white crosses.
I was at a loss with the subject luminance values, and I confess I was thinking about bracketing several exposures, when I suddenly realized that I knew the luminance of the moon—250 c/ft2. Using the Exposure Formula, I placed this luminance on Zone VII; 60 c/ft2 therefore fell on Zone V, and the exposure with the filter factor o 3x was about 1 second at f/32 with ASA 64 film. I had no idea what the value of the foreground was, but I hoped it barely fell within the exposure scale. Not wanting to take chances, I indicated a water-bath development for the negative.”
Realizing as I released the shutter that I had an unusual photograph which deserved a duplicate negative, I swiftly reversed the film holder, but as I pulled the darkslide the sunlight passed from the white crosses; I was a few seconds too late!”
Please do not think that I am comparing myself to “Da Man”, other than we both use the same tool (of sorts), the likeness fades like an under-fixed print…..Peace Out †††
“WE BUILD TOO MANY BRIDGES AND NOT ENOUGH WALLS.” Isaac Newton…..
Oh how we say time flies, but then there are those days that just seem to stay frozen in time. It was just about two years ago that I had to put my good friend down. I still feel a little lost without him. I miss his fierce protection of all under my roof. I miss his smell. Probably only true dog folks can follow that, but every dog I have owned had their own distinctive smell along with their own pedigree of personality:
Samantha (the sweetest), Pork Chop (the happiest), Midnight (a troubled black lab I could never quite follow), Clovis (the only dog we ever paid for, unconditionally the smartest and who was so tight with his pack) and then comes Grace (our blue-eyed deaf rescue found abandoned at a West Texas railroad station and who is now my only four-legged shadow).
I have loved each of them greatly and differently. Each one has brought me their lifetime of joy and buckets of tears upon leaving. Clovis was my poser dog. Whenever I got out my Nikon, he was quick to notice and quicker to upstage anyone and anything.
Since I lost Clovis, I have not, with any degree of seriousness, picked up a camera. He just took that out of me. I have tried to shoot at some images, but every time I pick up a camera I hear his tags a jingle, a bump on the leg wanting to know where he should pose. My heart goes adrift and the camera back in the backpack.
I am a sentimental old coot and damn but I miss them all and can pull up many a tearful memory. I have to ask, how can a dog steal my vision? Hey, if they can steal your heart, vision is pretty much a simple task.
Get busy living or get busy dying!…”Red”…aka S. King
Peace Out, jasL
Red Rover Red Rover, let Butterfly come over. Year, I know pretty cheesy. Everyone around here gets kind of excited over this red clover that blooms for a short two weeks or so. I got to admit, it is a pretty plant with a real draw to the flying insects.
Enjoy the eye feast…...RESIST HATE……en theos †††……..jasL
Growing up in West Texas I would be more inclined to find a Horned Toad (“Horny Toad”) playing the part of a road pancake. The road killed Horny Toad would always pull at my heart. I don’t so much find that feeling with the amphibians here in Northeast TX. Perhaps it is my age or the sheer quantity of them that breeds my indifference. Whereas my dog Grace loves to find and nose around the toads that sit under our backyard lights. Grace will take the time to actually search them out. Where the horny toads were avoided by dogs, the horned toad was an unavoidable attraction for little boys.
I found this frog/toad shortly after a recent rain. After being flattened several times by passing autos, the sun then worked on drying him out and into his fossil appearing state.
Peace out….monos en theos ††† jasL
It seems a bit of an oxymoron have to work so hard at taking it easy, but I am having to do just that. Trying to find those thermals to drift upon. That downhill part of the hike, but any hiker will tell you the downhill portions are the killers.
“Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained.” Marie Curie
Don’t get me started on the search for the gift, that can be a real uphill hike.
Peace out….monos en theos ††† jasL
Following my recent panic attack, that was probably one of the worst I have ever had, I am working hard to get that peaceful easy feeling. To rest in the comfort of me.
I had someone email me a great story about panic attacks that gave me a chuckle so here is a share:
A man once had panic attacks, but eventually, with much struggle, stopped having them. Years later, he ended up in a hospital, pain in his chest, and his doctor comes in to explain that he had had a heart attack. The man says, “Thanks God! I thought the panic attacks had come back!”
You just gotta find a way to find comfort in your discomfort!
monos en theos ††† jasL
Ah yes, some days just don’t go quite like you planned. One day your running free in the jungle and then you felt a little stick and you wake up behind bars with dry hay to eat instead of the fresh garden in which you ran free.
I just got released from the hold of a hospital bed. I felt it was just another of my familliar panic attacks, but my BP went to 247/143 with a pulse rate of 133. I took my regular meds, but just could not get it down and the need to breathe was getting harder and harder. So, we call 911 and it is off to the hospital. A bunch of nice people ( the EMT’s and hospital nurse’s were just incredible), but I would have much met them all someplace for a beer.
The cardiologist was firmly convinced I had experienced a heart attack and must have some blockage in my heart. So, pokes, prods, needles, ekgs, cardiograms of several types and the worst a chemical stress test. So strange to be injected with a drug and see and feel your heart race to 150 beats per minute in less than 60 seconds. Kind of felt like a panic attack.
And in the end, after all the tests it was what I originally thought, a panic attack.
I wonder if the gorilla has figured out his dilemma?
I”m living life free, as it should be, just as I am……peace out….jasL