Hey, Little Fella

Sometimes when I'm lying in the grass peering through that big ol' macro lens I'm suprised by what I bump into.  Like this cute little guy.  I spent a full fifteen minutes watching him slide around in the mulch in my flower bed.  Fascinating. 

Had it been a garden snake?  I would have been fascinated from afar.  Very afar. 

Out Back

Winter may be kicking us around, but there are still signs of life in nature. If you look closely.

Bee-autiful

Ya' know, normally I hate sweat bees, but this one? Not so much. He actually looks kind of cute. Until he bites your behind.

Forgive Me While I Get All Philosophical For A Moment

In recent weeks as I've observed nature and watched young women dress up for prom, I've drawn some similarities between the two. Notably, we are often so distracted by the showy flowers that we fail to notice the beauty of the average bloom that worries more about being a part of the party instead of the life of the party.

It's a shame so many young women don't realize that the exotic flowers often fade quickly, and it's the quiet beauty and inner strength of the average petals that hold up the forest.

Sunday Blues

Sometimes we forget what we have in our own backyard. That is often the case with me. In this end of the state we have two large adjacent lakes that lend themselves to all kinds of fishing, boating and camping. They are wonderful tourist attractions that help many local folks earn a living. In fact, tourism is big business around here. We are lucky to have the lakes and the national forest surrounding them, and I often kick myself for not taking advantage of them more often. Some of the best camping and fishing in this country is literally minutes from my house.

The lakes are not without controversy. TVA flooded a great deal of private land decades ago to create the lakes area, and many people lost their homes in the process. Scattered throughout the area are small cemeteries that mark the resting place of families who once called that land their own. Many a jug of moonshine was brewed in those hills, too. Its colorful history makes it a unique place, and much of it sits in its natural state, dotted only by the occasional restaurant or marina.

I decided to visit the lakes Sunday since I was in search of some winter nature shots before the snow rapidly melted away, and I had exhausted all possibilities in the wildlife refuge near my house. I was not disappointed. The thing that struck me all afternoon as I stomped around shores and trails, trying not to fall into the cold lake water, was how blue everything was. Between the snow, the sun and the water, everything had a beautiful blue tint that screamed winter. It was a good reminder of how lovely this part of the country is, and since it is such a well kept secret, I thought I’d share it with you today, so you can see for yourself. I think I’m in love with the color blue.

Psst. I even managed a couple of sailboat shots for Oreneta.

It's A Small World

Dabbling in photography for the past year has taught me a few things about myself, namely that I tend to focus on small things. I’m drawn to the delicate and the diminutive. I just realized this a few days ago as I was going over some pictures I took in the woods behind my house. It’s probably something you noticed before I did, if you pay any attention to my nature pictures. I’ll skip the pun about not being to see the forest for the trees. You’re welcome.

In college, I spent a fair amount of time in the ceramics building, throwing pots on a wheel. There’s something you didn’t know about me, hmm? I loved the feel of the clay between my fingers, and while I tried my hands at large items, usually I reverted to small, delicate items, such as finger bowls made from slick porcelain that slipped between my fingers and required a light controlled touch to keep them from collapsing or spinning out of shape. At the time I thought it was comfortable to me because my hands were small, but now, I think it had little to with my hands. I think it was just more esthetically pleasing to me. I believe this because I’m still traveling down that path.

I have no trouble embracing that because even though I’m using a different medium now, focusing on the tiniest of things forces me to stop and appreciate things I would never have noticed if I hadn’t looked at them through the lens of a camera. For instance, have you ever truly noticed the fascinating textures and shapes in nature? In those woods behind my house, lies the rough:

And the wispy.

The curly.

The fuzzy.

The thin.

And the sharp.

There are gnarly things.

Things that are twisted.

And things that are stringy.

But the things I like best are the pieces of nature that seem to have human qualities, like tenacity:

Or warmth in the core despite the ravages of age on the outside and scars on the heart.

I’m amazed at what I’ve found by simply taking the time to look closer and longer at the things that are under my nose. It makes me wonder what I might have missed in years past in nature. And in people.

Seasons in the Sun

When I went searching for winter beauty shots Saturday, I immediately headed for the wildlife refuge near my house. I’m guaranteed to find some great nature subjects there, plus it’s a very soothing place to be. It’s quiet. There’s rarely any traffic, and I can stumble around the edges of the refuge without getting shot for trespassing on private property. People are very funny about having their property photographed, and there are a lot of gun owners around these parts. I spend a lot of time in ditches on public right of ways.

The refuge was beautiful in its winter dusting of snow. The sun shined brightly on the sparkles of crystal, and the snow had gone untouched except for the occasional deer tracks. My boots left the only mark of man, and I tried to step lightly. It seemed wrong to disturb the snow there. It was just a beautiful place to be, despite the frigid temperatures. I felt very close to God, and not just because I was praying for warmth.

I always find something new there to capture with the camera, but I especially like to revisit certain spots to catch a plant or patch of water in the different seasons. I enjoy seeing how things change from season to season. See?

The boat on the pond in the spectacular fall sun.
And again in the winter, covered in snow.

The fluttering leaves on the trees around the pond in October.
And the papery bare branches in January.

There’s more. Like that patch of standing water. Fall.
Winter.

The fences that surrounds it. Fall.
Winter.

I could do this all day. Fall goldenrod.
Winter goldenrod.

And my favorite. My beloved sunflowers. I have three seasons of these. Summer.
Fall.
And winter.

Cool. I must admit, this whole process has given me a better appreciation for winter. I'm not ready to say I like winter. I'm just tolerating it a whole lot better than I did last year because I'm pausing to examine it closely. I’d like to have photos of a few of my favorite "refuge" subjects in all four seasons, so I can display them in some way in my house. I need two more seasons. I can’t wait for spring. But I've gotta get some better boots.

Something Beautiful

"It's a voice that whispers my name

It's a kiss without any shame

Something beautiful

Like a song that stirs in my head

Singing love will take us where

Something's beautiful"---Something Beautiful-The Newsboys

The most incredible thing happened to me Friday. It had been a crazy, hectic day, and by the time it started to wind down toward evening I was pooped. But as I looked outside the kitchen window I noticed the sky and realized a beautiful sunset was about to happen. I stopped loading the dishwasher, grabbed my camera and headed down the road to stake out a field with a good view. About a mile from the house, I pulled into a rocky drive just off the county road, slammed the truck into park and bailed out, running to get into position. Then suddenly I stopped. And realized I was in the middle of thousands of bright, shiny sunflowers. They were everywhere. Row upon row of yellow blooms tilting in all directions. It was the most incredible thing I’d seen in a very long time. I laughed out loud at their beauty and how I literally stumbled into them.

I didn’t have much time, so as the sun quickly slid below the trees I lay on my back on the ground and started snapping away so as to catch the sky in the pictures.

Since they were in neat rows and growing in the wildlife refuge, I’m assuming they were planted on purpose. Whatever the reason, I’m glad they’re there, and I’m glad I found them. I couldn’t get enough. The daylight dwindled so fast I got only a few shots.

So I went back for more. Yesterday. When the sun was bright and shiny.
And it was just as much fun as it was the first time.
And just as moving.
I love the way the front row lines the road, waiting for passersby.
Bobbing their heads at cars and trucks and tractors.
From a distance they seem to go for acres.
And acres.
For as far as the eyes can see.
Up close, they seem to surround you.
And tickle your waist and chest. The bees and butterflies are everywhere.
The flowers are simply spectacular, and it’s difficult to describe how moving the whole experience was.

And for reasons I can’t explain I felt compelled to capture my joy.And hang onto it for future reference…when I need a reminder that the world is truly a beautiful place.