Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
if it’s just about the photography experience
It is morning
The sun,
Reluctant
Complaining
There is coffee in my future
Sparks of promise
Run through my veins
There are many things to be sad about.
There are many things to be grateful for.
We live in an amazing age full of promise.
What shall we choose to see and direct our steps?
Do stars come from chimneys?
Smoke bellowing blue.
Painting the night sky
Brilliant and true.
Ah, the milky way. Hidden in city light and revealed only in the dark night. Most tragically, not a candy bar.
Ya can’t take an oriole
And put it in a pigeon-hole
Bathing in a finger bowl
Eating taco casserole
What’s left of their sausage roll
Will end up in a cubby hole
Eaten on a kaiser-roll
A total lack of self-control
Hooded oriole –
Certainly
Beyond half full
Positive vibes
Bringing on the night
We live on a hill, so gravity reminds us constantly who is in charge.
Two nights ago, while planning the garden, a covey of quail waltzed through our conversation. Half a dozen females scurried to the fence and hopped onto the entangled foliage. Several males/females followed suit. Finally, the dominate male and his mate brought up the rear and joined them.
We were within ten feet of them and they took no notice of us. I held my breath the entire time…or maybe just kept still and quiet. The experience was prodding enough to take out the Z6 and make some work last night. Perhaps they will return and I can make some portraits.
Plans are for making
Constantly pushing
Constantly breaking
It was a Sunday. We spent the day prepping and painting. As the day was closing we sat at the top tier of the new property, exhausted. Peering through the trees, I spied the orange of the blood moon rising. A slight tinge rang up my spine. “I should be set up somewhere with a tripod and a decent lens making some images of this event.” It echoed in my brain like the nagging sore muscles that covered my body. It was a split second visceral reaction engrained into my psyche from the last eighteen years of concerted efforts in photography.
We drove home back to the old homestead of thirty-two years. The forty-minute drive was quiet. We were both thinking the same thing “what have we gotten ourselves into?” Neither one of us would say it. Now was a time for resolute dedication. There was no room for second guessing.
As I exited the car I gazed up at the beauty of that blood moon. It was so compelling and awe inspiring. It’s red-orange smokiness harbored eons of superstition and lore. Imagine entire kingdoms, generals and seers warning of impending doom based on the omen in the sky. Who could resist?! I made a quick monopod set-up and made some images with my 200-600. There was no getting focus, no matter what I tried. After several minutes, I gave in. I simply didn’t have the strength to continue.
That was twelve days ago. Since then, most of the paint is done. Much of the new floor needs installation. All of the baseboards need replacing. Today, one week after move-in we got hot water (another story). Yesterday, we figured out why our internet connection wasn’t working. We fixed it ourselves.
Tomorrow we finish cleaning the old home and turn over the keys. That little place is full of memories, laughter, tears, struggles and victories. Our grown daughters lived out their childhoods there. Now they have their own beginnings and it’s time for ours.
Tonight, I stood at the top tier of the property again. The mountain behind us is calling. It’s chaparral has its own secrets and tales ready to be seen and told. Soon enough, when the dust is settled and my knees are a little less sore we will meet and speak to one another. Who knows what will happen next?!
A very banal view from the rear of our property. Soon enough I can make time for good light.
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 