solitary perch

Friends,

I am saying a short and tiny goodbye today. Gonna wade out to that sunny warm rock and perch myself upon it and take a summer breather from the blogging. I have some other "things" that need my attention: other photo stuff, family activities, and my own personal care.  All good stuff, just listening to the whisper in my ear that is telling me to take a little blog vacation.

I will be back August 1st.

Until then,
t

p.s. One of my favorite things this summer has been to photograph Bean in her pink hat. I bought this pink hat for her several years ago and she has finally "owned" it. Makes me smile. :)

San Francisco

A little view from our hotel room on the 17th floor.

It was a dreary day this day, but nevertheless, the view of the city below us was worthy of a photo.

I have somewhat of a love/hate relationship with San Francisco. It is historically beautiful, yet wears its cracks well. It is a city of a hundred dialects, nationalities, social and economical extremes, all existing in a small footprint. Case in point: on our walk down to the heart of the city from our nice quiet Nob Hill hotel, I witnessed a man urinating in an open doorway, another sleeping on the sidewalk, and a host of women wearing Prada heading off to bar. We witnessed some drunk guys attempting street dancing for money, a disheveled woman wanted to sell us an old newspaper so she could pay her rent, and a pirate-clad mime completely covered in gold spray paint watching it all from atop his wooden crate. Hundreds of others buzzed around, in and out of stores, stood with mouths open, watched the drunk guys, and waited in line for the trolley cars. In the span of twenty feet I heard a handful of languages and yet ironically I was the one that felt like the foreigner. I always do in this city.

At one point I felt like I was an extra in a movie scene while I crossed the street and watched a man and woman carried on a petty argument...

He, hanging out of his 3rd floor apartment window:
"HEY! Where you goin'?! Bring me back a pack!"

She, standing in the middle of the intersection, in her bathrobe and slippers, waving a finger at him: "WHAT?! Don't you yell at me! You get your own pack you lazy SOB!"

No kidding...San Francisco is not lacking in character.

Yet this is the way this city is every time I visit. I now know why I enjoy the outer edges, the ocean side, the Presidio, the Marina...because the noise dissipates and I can smell the ocean, not feel overwhelmed or anxious with the disparity of the extremes. It breaks my heart to see broken people sleeping on the sidewalk, women trying to sell dirty newspapers (or their bodies) to pay for a meal. And yet this city is raw with the presence of them, and the Suits and Pradas that walk by them. I often wonder if I lived here if I would get used to it and settle into the chaotic collision of extremities. But then I conclude that I am perfectly content to visit and enjoy it in small bites, taking my lifetime to discover its historical beauty, cracks and all.

the golden gate (and possibly my dad)

This is where I will be for the next couple of days
celebrating my fifteenth wedding anniversary with my Pal....

No, not on a bridge.
But in a hotel room with a view of this bridge, which is much nicer than actually being on the bridge, if you ask me.

I have driven/walked across this bridge many times in my life and I have many photos documenting it because even if you live near this bridge, when you travel across it and under those towers, the sheer beauty and enormity of it is always breath taking.

But I have to say, that the last time I walked across I almost passed out...

First off, heights are not my thing. Adding to this fear is the presence of a suicide hot line number posted on signs along the bridge. Just thinking about people leaping over the rail crushes my heart with such sorrow that I wind up standing on this bridge with tears in my eyes, rather than enjoying the beauty from my perch.

Second, this bridge almost has a micro-climate of its own and it is often windy and cold up there. Sometimes the bridge is completely shrouded in fog. Unless it is an amazingly beautiful, unusually hot summer day here, you have to bundle up. The last time I walked across it, I feared my family would be blown right off it.

And thirdly, the last time I walked across it they had been doing some repair work on the pedestrian path  and there had been a story of a toddler who had fell through the construction cracks. I cannot believe I am even writing about this on my blog because it was a horrific story, but that story scared me enough to pretty much leash my children to me and swear that I would not walk across this bridge with them again until they had turned fifty.

Well now, isn't that pleasant?

Moving on...

So these photos were taken a month ago when we took the kids up north to a coastal state park. We were heading across the Golden Gate and I pretty much crawled onto my dashboard so I could take an unobstructed view out my windshield. It still has a little bit of a "through the windshield" blur to it, but oh well.

In the first picture (the one at the top of the post) you can see the top suspension cables and if you look carefully you can see handrails. Handrails. Without fail, every time my hubby and I drive over the Golden Gate we have to discuss them. Because there are people who actually walk up those cables to do inspections, repairs, and paint. Every single time we look at each other and say...

Who ARE those people?! CRAZY!


They are not me, that's for sure. This is why I will be enjoying the view from my hotel room this weekend. 


Happy weekend.
xoxo


p.s. There are many old pictures of the golden gate bridge being built. I just googled it. Go see for yourself the daring men who risked their lives to build California's pride and glory.

p.p.s. Top picture, bottom right hand corner, the man in the baseball hat, dark sunglasses, looking at the camera....I swear that is my dad. Go look at the last picture from this post and then come back here and tell me that it is indeed my dad. Different color jacket, but still. Dad???

trial and error

The photo below? A complete gamble and a fluke. A ginormous Redwood had fallen between two other Redwoods and Bean was using it as a balance beam. I was standing at the end of the tree that is about eight feet off the ground. There was no way I could position myself to a height that afforded me a good camera position so I lifted my camera up over my head and rested it on the end of the trunk and fired away. I could not see what I was doing and had no idea where the right focus point would be. This is the one that I liked out of the fifty I shot...

Near our campsite was a HUGE tree stump that rose twelve feet into the air. It was wide enough for about six people to circle it in a giant hand held hug. Somewhere in time someone had carved ladder steps into into one side so you could climb to the top. The kids loved it and I wanted to capture them climbing it. Because it was centered among some dense Redwoods it was mainly in shadows. To aim upward from my place on the ground meant aiming up into the brightly lit sky. If you know anything about photography you know that two contrasting and intensely lit (and non lit) situations creates an almost impossible exposure issue inside your camera's brain. To expose for both situations is an exercise in futility. So I stood at the base and shot through a million exposure settings and hoped for the best. When I got home I had to lighten the darkened tree trunk and shrug a "who cares" about the overly bright sky. I was happy just to capture three shots that caught the kids climbing.

Bean was following her Auntie across the ancient stone foundation stones and the sun and shade was intense. (Insert a repeat explanation about two contrasty light issues here.) She was not about to wait for me to get my settings right so I just gambled. The stones are way too bright but I love this series. I love seeing my Bean leaping after her Auntie.

I share the above photos because I want you to know that I am not a perfect photographer. I take gambles and mess up my settings, still wonder sometimes what the heck I am doing. I share what I think are my best photos because I am proud of them, but also because I love them. 

When I began to delve into photography I came face to face with my limitations and constant failure (hello, I really didn't know what I was doing)  but the spark it ignited in my creativity was enough to keep at it. I never took a class (because of time, money, laziness, fear and loathing of homework) so all I had was myself and my relentless teacher named Trial and Error. And believe me, being a student of Trial and Error can be a bit frustrating. But she is a persistent teacher that works you hard if you refuse to give up. This blog is a tattoo upon my body of growth that bears witness to the fact that when I keep at something I will improve, but not without some "flops".

I used to go onto photo forums and compare myself with the million amazing photographers out there. I hung my head in frustration over my blown out highlights and my less than perfectly sharp photos. I tried out styles and techniques in an attempt to become what I thought must be a "good" photographer. And a lot of times I erased photos I liked because I thought they would not pass approval by some unseen photo critic. (Boo the unseen photo critic!)  But somewhere along my photographic journey I have come to a deep conviction that finding my voice and style is the biggest personal challenge that I can tackle because it is the only way to discover just how I was created to create. And it is the only way to maintain my love and joy and passion for picking up my camera.

I know that imitation my be a form of flattery but it lacks authenticity. In my opinion, to imitate is to be a second rate version of someone else...and to lead a less than satisfying life. The best you can do is to become a student of Trial and Error. Working, failing, gambling, moving, shifting, learning, listening, until you find that place that is uniquely you. If what you do is not "perfect" by somebody else's standards, but is loved by you, then it is perfect and authentically you.

Please know that I am humbly still a student. 

I pray that you too, will daily choose to find and embrace the perfectly imperfect, authentically beautiful, creatively created you.

Welcome to Monday.

xoxo

A little day trip to Fort Ross

In 1812, they landed on the northwestern coast of the Americas eager to expand upon their sea otter fur trade industry and explore what the Americas could offer. They traveled across the seas from Russia and  could not have landed at more beautiful spot along the American coastline. 

If you were a Russian sailor, fur trader, or one of the Alaskan natives they "brought" with them, you would have first built your settlement, your fortress, to protect you from the Spanish that had come from the south, or the natives that had been there since time began.

You would have established a home.

And a place to worship your god in the orthodox way you were used to.

Someone among you would have fashioned a bell to call you to worship.

(And it would ring two centuries later on a foggy July morning.)

Your settlement would extend beyond your fortress and travel south as you built your farms and your community. A walk along the bluffs, with a majestic view of the ocean, would be your daily dose of medicine. You would never tire of the beauty as you thanked God for leading you to such a paradise.

 

As those of your own passed on you would find a small hill to claim as a resting place. You would mark their graves with the orthodox cross, watching the community of the dead grow in numbers: a reminder that your home is not here on earth. 

You would have grown used to the hard work, the mild weather, the dance of fog and sun in the summer months, the rhythmic sound of the surf, the salt on your skin. Your life among the mild, peaceful, coastal  elements would have been in stark contrast to that of your country of birth.

Two hundred years later as I stepped foot inside their fortress, and walked the land they once occupied, it was not hard to imagine that they would have welcomed the change.

*******

For more info on Fort Ross, click here. For an explanation of the grave crosses, click here.

Ojai Oranges

On our way back from San Diego I stopped over night at my friend's parents' home in Ojai (O-Hi). 

Ojai is a beautiful small town tucked away in the hills outside of Ventura, along the southern coast of California. Imagine a quiet hill community (not unlike Napa) with ranch style homes built on Oak studded acres. Imagine a home that looked like something out of a Country Living magazine spread. Do not envision the frilly, doily, denim blue country spread, but instead, envision: big chunky, distressed antiques, vintage Americana pieces, spacious vaulted ceilings, beautiful handmade quilts, down covered beds, a stone walled terrace, a quaint little guest house, fruit trees...everything a ranch home would embody. I could have stayed for days. (I am going to invite myself back.) No wonder my girl friend held her wedding there many summers ago. (Why did I get married in a church??)

On the morning we were to leave my kids went out to explore the several acres of trees, gardens, and pathways. Bean immediately found the orange tree and asked for a bag and clippers.  (This girl will live on a ranch someday.)

Lining them up...

And I had to include a picture of her helper...

Truly the sweetest dog you will ever meet. She spent the entire time following Bean around and digging in the mud, chasing squirrels. Sweet Ginger.

Bean toted her ten oranges home from Ojai and the next day squeezed them all into yummy juice. That's my girl, living up to her McFruity Bean name for sure.

Tide Tag (featuring Rockin' ISO)

The sun slowly sank, illuminating the ocean with a yellow and white glow. The high tide rolled in, erasing all of our efforts: sand castles, sand "snow men",  ditches, sand walls and mounds. As I stood at the top of the stairs that led down from our beach house I watched the waves creep up to lick the steps and the sea wall boulders. What an amazing gift it was to stand witness to the ancient ebb and flow of the tide.

The light was so beautiful that I had to take a few steps down and grab a quick
shot looking northward up the coast.

As I was lost in my moment, two "bored" boys came up behind me and saw me dodging the waves, dancing up and down the steps, and decided to make a game of it themselves.
The game: how low could they go?

Safe at the third step!

Or maybe not.

When they tired of that challenge they moved on to climbing the rocks.

The new game: tide tag, or taunting the tide.

Picture below: hear me screaming, "That's right boys...RUUUUUUNN!"

If there is anything I have learned in life, it is this:
You cannot out-run, out-size, out-scare the tide.
Your best bet is to ride it.
Or, if you lack a surfboard, run for higher ground...and find a nonslip rock.

It's also good to know when it is time to listen to your mom and play it safe.
Because when the mom-worry kicks in it's time to come on up.
(Add to that, my light was fading and my ISO couldn't be bumped up any higher.)

Plus, if I had let them continue with their tide taunt-and-tag they would have missed out on this...

...God's very own, personally handmade, IMAX movie screen, complete with a VIP front row seat.
Is there anything more amazing than to be sitting on the edge of a continent watching the day fade and listening to the hush of the tide as it whispers good night?

No, there's nothing more amazing.

 

(Well, not true. I might have to add to it the people who make Canon cameras. I'd like to thank the unseen little engineer person who sits in a research and development lab somewhere in Canonville.  His or her achievement in the ISO department is soooooo appreciated. I would not have gotten any of these pictures without that crazy high ISO. That last picture especially--it was pretty much dark on the deck and yet I was able to capture the best scene of the day. Little engineer person at Canon...I know you are not God, but you rock.)

Making Palm Friends

On our way down to the most southern coast of California, Bean and I made a stop in Santa Barbara.

We made some lovely friends and Bean, especially, made a connection.

My tree lover (just like her mama)...

One last hug goodbye to her friends...

We had a fun time together, playing on the beach and sharing our little hotel room together. Of course she wanted to swim in the pool, watch a movie in bed, eat meals on our balcony, sleep in the middle of the king-sized bed, and write letters to the mermaids, so I tried my best not to pick up my camera while spending time with her. (But who could pass up sunset in the palms?!) The next day we packed up and headed south to meet up with our friends.  (More pictures to come!)

I am recovering from the hours stuck in LA traffic (you have not met traffic until you've met LA traffic) and not sleeping in my own bed. It's good to be home. And a clean one!

Hope you had a wonderful week and are off to another warm one.
Happy Monday!

xoxo