I’m going to save the best for last – the MOON

Cell phone update

The saga of my cell phone has  gotten ridiculous.  Time for husbands New Every Two, which really means Discount Every Two unless you want a toy phone.  I used the New Every Two as my husband has a new phone.  I got the Droid Incredible which I loved to pieces until I found out I could not put my bluetooth in my ear and say “Call ____.”  Sent back.  Credit received. Got the Blackberry Bold. What a clunker! Heavy, hard to navigate the icons – shame on them!  Sent back.  Credit received.  Decided to stick with Blackberry Curve.  Ordered the lavender one.  Started to program it but I couldn’t find the keys.  Ah – the keys were lavender too!  My current phone is a pink Blackberry Curve and the keys are not pink.  They are silver and black and I can see them without my glasses.  But lavender on lavender?  Can’t see with my glasses.  Sending it back Monday.  Down to one choice – the black Blackberry Curve.  I am waiting to order however.  Can’t take anymore of this.  And they better not charge me the $35 restocking fee for the Droid or the lavender Curve.  Now I will take deep breaths and continue this post with

ANTS

I need more deep breaths.  I watered and cleaned up outside today.  There were no ants.  There are now ants swarming all over the patios and lawns and everywhere.  I must have disturbed a nest or something.  I put a call in to pest control having made a command decision to damn the frogs and hire pest control if that’s what it takes.  Seriously, I hope Adam can find a way to not made the pond toxic.  We had such a bad infestation at our old house once that we had ants coming out of switch plates, and once I found my snake Jake covered with ants!  I grabbed that snake and put him under the kitchen faucet hoping he wouldn’t have a heart attack from the sudden change of temperature.  So I’m not waiting to see ants coming out of switch plates.  I hope Adam calls back even though it’s Friday night and we haven’t hired him yet.  Let’s talk about something more pleasant that won’t raise my blood pressure, which would be

Phonographs and Memories

Do you ever wonder if things you remember about your childhood were really like that? I have fondly told the story of how I would wake up every day and put a record on my phonograph first thing – the same record every day.  My parents awoke to “The King of France had 40,000 men; they marched up the hill and then marched down again.” My phonograph was hand-cranked.  I’ve wondered lately if I made that up, however.  I didn’t.  Because in the move I looked through old photos and there I was in my bedroom with the phonograph and you can see the crank!

Nice to know I remembered that correctly.

Watercolor

Watercolor is hard. I did a watercolor up at the cabin and I have no idea what it is.  I was trying to replicate a journal page but it’s not quite the same.  I don’t even want to learn watercolor – phew! My dad got a lifetime achievement award from the National Watercolor Society.  They don’t give that out very much.  I so appreciate his skill as an artist – a lifetime of work.

So here’s what I did.  Miss Know Nothing trying to learn from the website watercolor.com.  However, I don’t even think I held the brush correctly, although I did remember from time to time to try.This is my masterpiece.  It’s colorful, I can say that, and I used water, that much is true.   However, putting the water and color together is amazingly difficult. So, someone tell me what it is so I can explain it to others as if I did it on purpose.

I’m going to take out that yellow and reddish column.  Would it make any sense to all it Windows?

Now for the MOON

Oh my goodness gracious you should have seen Bakersfield’s moon last night.  My husband, who goes to sleep at 9:00, got up to use the restroom at about 11:15 and just happened to look out his window.  He came in my room and startled the heck out of me – I was doing something on the computer.  (Yes, we each have our own rooms.  It’s called snoring.) “Look at the moon,” he said.  Clouds, almost-full moon, I stuck my camera on the tripod and took 81 photos.

I’m only going to show you nine, and I don’t need to comment.  Just look.  Wish you had been here to see it in person with me.  The third one I want to title “The Mothership has Arrived.”

Goodnight, moon.

Has anyone ever told you to go take a hike?  I told myself to do that very thing yesterday.  About 1:00 in the afternoon I decided to find a trail my friend Chris McKee told me about. Just a short distance from the cabin.  I loaded my pockets with important things like my lipstick, my small camera, water, phone, car keys, and set out.

I was a good girl.  I let my husband know where I was going since I would be alone.

The trail of the bear?  That got me wishing I could see a bear but knowing I wouldn’t.  But I did want to and thought how I would jangle my keys and make lots of noise if I did see one.  No dice, though.

So I set out – I was walking too fast.  I kept telling myself to slow down, I wasn’t in a race, I should look around.  So I took many short breaks to look around me.  In “My Photo Tips” on the tabs above, which don’t seem to be working quite right – but I talk about that – always take a look behind, to the sides, etc.  I took my advice.

Here I am, on the trail and happy, wearing that damn shirt I bought at WalMart about 7 years ago for under $5 I think.  It won’t wear out!

Here’s the trail.

Elevation started about 6,000 feet and went up to over 7,000.

First I saw a bunch of pine cones.  All kinds – they should have been labeled.  Close up, a pine cone could be many things.

This could be little hillocks with just a trace of snow.  Or something.  I started wondering about Fibonacci’s sequence in nature and couldn’t believe math had entered my mind, or anything to do with it.  Anyway, I think pine cones follow Fibonacci’s  Golden Ratio.

Now this was cool.  What a great shape; such a graceful tree.

About now my knee was hurting a little.  Oops – forgot the Aleve.  I have chondromalacia patella in my right knee, whatever that is.  It’s an ailment common to runners; however, I never run.  I am overweight – but I get a runner’s problem instead of a weight problem.  Go figure.  Anyhow, I adjusted my gait a little and went on.

Look!  It’s a rock. A rock for the ages. (Slap myself.)  It does have an interesting pattern though, which I could tell you about if I was remotely interested in geology.

I have to digress here – when I was teaching fifth grade, I was almost the only teacher in the school who did science.  I found a tape in the library called Igneous Rocks - yes, a title to excite anyone – but it went with our unit so I showed it.  Who would have known that volcanoes fall into the igneous rock category!  It was the most popular tape I showed all year.  And yes, I do mean tapes.  Schools are always eons behind in technology.  I had to buy my own DVD player.

How about this pine cone?  It landed upright, apparently, when it fell, because I’m pretty sure it didn’t come from that little tree.

About now I was getting hot.  I’d only brought one bottle of water because I didn’t expect it to get hot.  I was rationing.  There was no trail map so I didn’t know how long this was going to be.  I’d picked up a pamphlet at the trail head and it had numbers where you could stop at markers and read about how it would have looked from the point of view of the Tubatulabal Indians who were native to the Southern Sierra Nevada.  However, I put the pamphlet in a crevice where I thought the next person might see and use it.  Why?  I never saw a sign post with a number, and the trail map said “not to scale.”

I saw a butterfly.  I saw a marker. Sign post #12.  Where were the first 11?  Now I wished I had the not-to-scale map so I could find out how many signs there were.

It was a beautiful day.  But I felt a little shivery.  Uh-oh.  It wasn’t all that hot, but I’ve had heat exhaustion three times previously and I know the signs.  I wasn’t going to take any chances. I turned around and went back the way I came.  I was probably almost at the  mid-point anyhow, but I couldn’t risk finding out.

Going back the same way had its advantages, however.  I saw these flowers – I think perhaps they are called Snow flowers although they don’t match google images exactly.  Anyone know for sure?

Here’s a close-up.

When I got back to the cabin (about a 2-minute drive), I looked online for the Unal Trail and found it was 3.6 miles.  I’m sure I went almost two of those 3.6.  I’ll go back another time.  I’m sure I’ll tell myself to take a hike again.

Waaayyyy too early (My granddaughter puts lots of extra letters in words these days. It’s the style.)

My first World Cup adventure was going down to Sandrini’s Bar at 7:00 AM to watch the opening game.  I admit, it was lots of fun, but it was waaayyyyy too early for me.  I’m usually lucky to be ready to leave the house by 10!  But I wanted the experience, and I wanted to watch South Africa play on their own turf.

United States and England

However, we turned on the United States/England match at a more civilized hour, and the first thing I noticed were patterns.  It was amazing.

I guess the lighting was just right to cast those shadows.  I could barely watch the game, I was so intrigued with this.  The players look like they are on skis.  Crossed skis going up and down the field.

I knew the shadows had to stick with the players, yet I still expected them to stay behind when someone moved.  I’d never quite noticed what a unit a person and his shadow is.

You see why I have the photos. I bolted for my camera and tripod because I didn’t want to miss anything, and once I started – well – I could have shot the entire game on the television.  Even the poor resolution was interesting – because the players look like they are outlined – an effect I think they offer on photoshop.

The most amazing things happen by accident.  The players are almost in a semi-circle in front of the semi-circle. Don’t you just love this? I haven’t seen shadows like this on any of the games since.

These were great – with two players so close, their shadow skis criss-cross.  I was still waiting for someone to walk out of his shadow – my mind still wanted it to happen while knowing that was ridiculous.

Reminds me of a photo I had fun with of my granddaughter and grandson looking at the Kern River, which I called Shadow Skiing.  I loved their shadows.  I think it’s in my art gallery.  I have to say, I am not a photo shopper.  I’m quite sure I could not recreate this.

I think I captured one of the big moments in the game by accident…

…judging by the look on this spectator’s face.

I put the camera on black and white to check that out.

It almost looks like a moving tick-tack-toe game.

Another double cross, and the guy on the left standing on the circle has one of his shadows obscured.  Well, I could go on ad nauseum, like I do with the clouds, pointing out how each shadow is different from another – but I won’t.

Commentators

The English commentators are so interesting.  I don’t watch soccer on television (I’ve watched plenty of soccer on the AYSO fields) so I don’t know what commentators usually sound like. I’m used to them practically screaming commentary in great excitement, like in Olympic skiing.  But these guys are more measured.  And they have a better vocabulary.

In saying something about the Paraguayans, the commentator called them “obdurate Paraguayans.”  Have you ever heard a sport’s commentator say the word obdurate?

They described the play of the Italians in the European cup: “They looked like dinosaurs.”

After Paraguay got the first goal today, all the players were jumping up and down, and the commentator said, “the Paraguayans are absolutely frothy.”

One more – the television focused on a fan in the stands in some sort of outfit – a mascot maybe.  The commentator said, “It’s not mandatory to come to World Cup matches in disguise.”  It’s worth watching the matches for the commentary, even if you don’t like soccer.

Leaving you with shadows

End of post.  Shadows and patterns.  Can’t wait for Portugal and Ivory Coast tomorrow – with Cristiano Ronaldo, one of the best in the world playing for Portugal, and Didier Drogba, an amazing player and humanitarian playing for Cote D’Ivoire.  At least I hope he plays – he has a broken arm.

I’ve posted these shadows before, but apropos of nothing, here’s a little Robert Louis Stevenson poem along with grandchildren and their shadows.  But you’ll notice that they are about to leave their shadows behind.  Stepping our from behind their shadows.

The Creative Every Day challenge for June is Bliss. (To learn more about this challenge click on the button on the sidebar.) Leah, who runs this blog, tells participants to completely ignore the theme, touch on the theme, adhere to the theme – lots of possibilities.  I frequently ignore the theme, but it’s a good mental exercise to think about these things once in a while.

I started thinking about bliss.  My first thought was it’s a scary word.  BLISS implies something big, something huge.  I think of Buddha, in the highest state of being, unruffled and untroubled, in a state of bliss.  The highest degree of happiness.  But in that happiness, you are so serene that you don’t need to define your state as bliss.  And it’s a constant state.  If you are always at that high, sustained level, the need to define the concept at all is irrelevant.  You are.

I know bliss as a small word, a lower-case word.  I don’t want to worry about achieving this elevated state of being; I just want to live with CSI – something I talked about in the post on courage.  And no, it’s not the crime show – for me, CSI is continuous self-improvement.  Maybe with enough of it, I’ll be in a state of BLISS, but now, my bliss is simpler,  composed of moments.

Being in a state of bliss may be akin to a state of grace.  I felt I was in a state of grace a few times, and I’m quite sure I can’t describe it.  I just knew it. It’s a sustained high level.  Maybe my bliss is just moments of happiness.

I pulled a few photos out of recent albums to illustrate what bliss is, at least for me.  Part of my bliss is being able to take photos.  Pictures tell the story.

Going outside today to take a look at the pond (I think I look for frogs as much as the cats do), I saw our first water lily.  It was incredibly exciting – a very small but very blissful moment.  You can dig deeper into it, however, extracting the pure bliss in seeing the wonders of nature – the complexity of flowers – shells – trees; the intrigue of the forest; the stillness of the desert.  Sometimes, when I’m in the mountains or at the beach and see something of extraordinary beauty, it’s too much to contain and I well up inside, shedding perhaps a tear or two.  Or more.  My dad understands this – it happens to him also.

My daughter sent this the other day.  Finally, in Colorado, it’s warm enough to bring out the wading pool.  Just seeing my beautiful, innocent, happy granddaughter is blissful.  The innocence hurts, but I know she’ll be ok when the day comes – that day that she discovers all is not well in the world.  But for now, what more can you ask for? Family, children, the blossoming of hope and love – it’s just doggone blissful.

This grainy cell-phone photo is on the top of the Westin Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles.  The bar revolves.  That’s me, two of my grandkids, and my dear friend Michael.  That’s bliss – being able to have friends like Michael, share experiences (we’d all been at the Black Eyed Peas concert).  Out of everyone I know, Michael is the closest to reaching the state of BLISS.  He truly is one with the universe, and I’ve learned much from him.  It’s also amazing and a little surreal that we can do things like stay at the Bonaventure, go to concerts, head out to Las Vegas for soccer tournaments, and order seven desserts for five people at a Japanese restaurant.  Food IS bliss.

The big sky days we’ve had in abundance this year in Bakersfield leave me in a state of pure, unadulterated bliss.  In fact, I’m thinking how to describe the feeling and I can’t – it approaches BlIsS.

This is a moment of bliss.  It’s my youngest daughter and her children with Jose, her ex-husband.  Lots of unpleasantness led up to their divorce, but it’s nothing less than blissful to me that they can come together as a family for Dax’s graduation, all smiles for the photo.

I gave a graduation party for Daxton.  The surprise guest was her eighth-grade language arts teacher, who had to stop teaching for medical reasons and couldn’t finish the year.  Pat and I have been friends forever.  Look at Dax – if that isn’t bliss, we’ll have to redefine the word.

This is my oldest daughter and her husband.  She earned her Master’s Degree last week.  But the smile isn’t just for that.  She and Matt are so in love that it’s almost painful.  He’s so tender with her and she with him, as they attend endless soccer games and raise great kids, that they are in a state of bliss – whether they know it or not  Which makes me feel overwhelmed with happiness.  Bliss.

Here’s some of the grandkids and friends in the casita, their little hide-out at our new house.  It astounds me that they all get along all the time and actually have fun together.  I think this makes me happiest of all – having the family love and like each other, through hardship and happiness.  It’s bliss.

More bliss – Jennifer’s graduation party.  How amazing is it to have a house like we do, be able to have abundant food, abundant laughter, fun, friends and family.  Bliss.

My parents at our house.  Mom’s 87, Dad’s 92.  Mom may repeat the same thing five times in a row, and laugh when she can’t remember the name of something (not realizing she can’t remember the name of almost anything), and Dad naps more than he’s awake.  But they are alive, healthy more or less, happy, and in love.  Married I think 68 years, they love each other more than ever.  This, to me, qualifies as bliss.

It’s total bliss to see something unexpected that takes your breath away – like this moon.  It’s blissful to not lose the sense of wonder.

That’s Jennifer, me and my friend Wendy. Wendy’s more than a friend, really – she and her husband and kids are family. We almost lost Wendy.  A couple of years ago she developed non-Hodgkins lymphoma, and our world collapsed.  Life without Wendy was inconceivable to all of us.  She calls her experience with lymphoma and a stem-cell transplant her journey to the 8th continent.  The bliss in this story overflows into gratitude, happiness, thankfulness – for Wendy, for medical care, for the sheer will to live.

This is bliss – four generations: three on the couch and the fourth behind the camera.

This, too is bliss.  Not just the visit from my wonderful friend William, but just being able to have a friend like William.  There’s 43 years difference in our ages.  But because of Michael, who taught me to be open to what crosses my path, and Ray Bradbury, who told me he didn’t consider it odd at all to have a friend so much younger, and because of my family who understand and don’t draw borders and boundaries to fence people in or out, I can have a friend like William.  All of the above are reasons for bliss.

Bliss.  Blissful and happy that we can afford vacations, bliss induced by the ocean, sand and sky, and bliss that we’ve been married 42 years.  We were laughing tonight, watching an ad for eHarmony.  I said we should register and see if we came up as matches for each other.  Mark said we probably wouldn’t, and he’s right.  But – we share the same values, and they are what keep us together.  Commitment, trust, respect, caring, and truthfulness.  That’s what love becomes, after all.  With both sets of parents as examples, I think we were destined to stay together as a couple, and it hasn’t been hard.  Hasn’t always been easy -we’ve had bumps and it hasn’t been pure bliss, but the concept is – the concept of a committed marriage.  With love.

I suppose my idea of bliss comes from family, friends, and nature.  If I can have this many moments in just the last four months or so, I may be closer to BLISS than I thought.  For now, I’ll take it in the lower case.

One last source of bliss – art.  Tonight I did a couple of still lifes – set them up and photographed them.  They came together quickly – by all appearances – but so much of the preparation is mental, running in the background, figuring it out, thinking, contemplating, that just the doing of the piece is almost incidental.  In fact, I was reading an article in the tub (I always read in the bath tub) about a retrospective of the artist Yves Klein.  Klein believed the idea behind the work was more important than the execution, according to TIME art critic Richard Lacayo.  Klein said, “My paintings are the ashes of my art.”

I had done the collage in the background but wasn’t entirely satisfied.  So today I put this rooster in front of it and photographed it.  This I like.  It’s called Rooster.  For now, anyway.

I jumped up to make this still life because of a beautiful purple turnip.  The turnip may not be evident in the finished product, but it was the catalyst.  You’ll all be glad to know that all the produce in this photo is organic and local.

So that’s it -moments of bliss that are compounded by the abundance of it all.  Little bites of bliss.  And now, I am in a state of blissful fatigue, and I’m going to bed.

Wanna talk about I

Wanna talk about number one

What I think, what I like, what I know, what I want , what I see

Wanna talk about hair.

(So Toby Keith doesn’t say the hair part.  Sorry, Toby.)

Let’s talk about ME first: the odds and ends, before I get into the distressing subject of hair.

Odds and Ends One: the Kaiser Show

Kaiser Permanente asked the Arts Council of Kern to hold a juried show, and from the works accepted, Kaiser would purchase some to hang in their new building in downtown, Bakersfield.  I almost didn’t enter, then thought photographs printed on canvas would be a winning combo.  And it was!  They purchased all three of my works- hip, hip, hooray!  Gosh it feels good to sell something, even if I barely recouped my costs.  I think this was fantastic of Kaiser to do for the community.

I did a triptych of poppies:

I cropped this poppy into a square and then flipped it.  So each end had a poppy leaning out of the triptych, and in the center there was a similar poppy but straight up.  They looked phenomenal printed on canvas.

Then I submitted two that were about 18×30:

Odds and Ends Two: Etsy

I don’t know about Etsy.  With so many wonderful hand-crafted articles out there, it seems awfully hard to carve out a market share.  I’ve sold a few photos, which is nutty because they look gorgeous printed on Velvet Fine Art paper, especially for the price.  So I’m trying something new – note cards.  I had some made for a trial run and they’re quite nice, so if they don’t sell, I’ll have some note cards.  If you want to take a look, there’s a link on the sidebar.  If you have any Etsy advice and are willing to share, please do!

And now, for the main event:  Wanna talk about HAIR

And I’m not talking about the musical.  I’m talking about us, in particular, women of a certain age. I’m talking gray. This is a vexing issue.  First, let’s just dispense with the dye question.  Without whatever color it is my stylist puts on my hair (it gets a lot of compliments), I’m quite sure I’d be gray.  I don’t think I’m ready to be gray yet, BUT…I’m starting to wonder what it would look like instead of rejecting the idea out of hand.  That must mean something.  I’d save so much money ($85 every four weeks), and I wouldn’t be putting chemicals on my head, close to my brain, so often.  Chemicals can’t be good.

Looking for hair in all the wrong places: Cue music (and apologies to Waylan Jennings)

I was looking for hair in all the wrong places
Looking for hair, on my head, not my face
Searching with my eyes, looking for traces
Of what…. I used to have on my head.
Hopin’ to find some growth and some color
God bless the day I discover
A thick head of hair…on my head. (end song)

Yes, the hair on our heads gets thinner as we age.  Can’t just pull it into a ponytail without artfully arranging it, or else bald spots will show.  Best to just wear it down.  BUT the ultimate insult is, while we are straining to fine enough hair on our head for some sort of style, it’s growing everywhere else! In all the wrong places.

This was demonstrated to me the last time I had my eyebrows waxed.  I mostly keep them up myself, but once in a while a wax is in order.  So I’m lying there, and the esthetician approaches me with scissors! While my head of hair is thinning, my brows are growing longer.  Great. I suppose men with bushy eyebrows are acceptable, but I can’t have them sticking up all over the place.

So now I have to trim my EYEBROWS.  And buy eyebrow wax to smooth them down.

Magnifying mirrors are a must.  Now and then, a stray hair will grow on my chin, under my chin, or at the side of what I suppose I need to call a moustache.  Sometimes it’s white, sometimes gray, always bristly.  Every morning I inspect my face for stray long hairs where they oughtn’t be.  Those suckers grow fast.

Finally, oh my, the esthetician waxed my moustache AND my NASAL hair.  It gets longer too.

This is some kind of perverse joke on us.  Hair growth goes haywire.  Hairs Gone Wild might be a popular video for the over 60 crowd.

There you have it.  Hair. In all the wrong places.

You know who you are because your camera is your fifth appendage.

You have a running battle with yourself when you consider leaving the house without it. It’d be nice just to take a quick walk through the forest without the camera around my neck.  But what if I see a bear? I’ve never seen a bear, why should I see one now? Actually, my chances are probably better without the camera.  And I leave the house with your camera around your neck.  And walk through the forest, and I don’t see a bear.

But you DO see a red-breasted nuthatch!

You decide to drive down the hill to Kernville for lunch.  You’re tired of being cooped up in the cabin working on art, which is hard work.  It’s a scenic drive, so of course you take the camera even though you’re not in a picture-taking mood.  You stop once because it’s an incomparable view, but it never looks the same out of the car.  You even know the picture won’t be any good.

Of course, you completely forget your small ladder is in the back just so you can regain the height you lost stepping out of the car.

You have the realization, which you’ve had before but you’re having it again, that all your photos are taken from the perspective of someone 5’ 2”.  You decide to recruit people of all different heights ( i.e. family) to take the same picture at the same time and then compare perspectives.  You can’t stop thinking pictures.

You stop one more time on a wide pull-out  because, be honest, it’s hard to pass a pull-out and not stop because if you don’t you’re always fighting the battle with yourself.  Maybe I should have stopped.  Should I go back? What did I miss?

This time, though, you see a dead skunk.  Yes, you actually consider whether or not to take a picture of it.  But then the skunk moves.  It’s alive, and it’s dying.  You know now that taking a picture is completely out of the question.  You watch as the skunk tries to move, raising its head and trying to pull itself forward with front paws.  You realize that its back end is injured, by a car of course (and you fervently hope it wasn’t on purpose), and you watch as that little animal valiantly tries to live while life is slowly ebbing away.

All you can think about on the rest of the drive is that skunk.

Finally you get to Cheryl’s Diner for the cheeseburger you’ve been thinking about.  You leave the camera in the car.  How could you possibly need a photo of Cheryl’s Diner?  (Except that driving home, you wish you had a picture of Cheryl’s Diner for the blog.) After lunch you walk along the Kern River, and now it’s all over.  The photo junkie takes over.

And after that first picture, that first click of the shutter, you’re doomed.  Doomed to take photo after photo of the same thing just in case one is better than the other.  You think, how many river pictures do I need, anyway, as you click away furiously.  You say I absolutely will not take a picture of the sky and clouds because I’m becoming a cloud freak. You say, there might be sky in this picture but really, it’s a picture of the river.  I know people are starting to laugh at me.  My 15-year-old granddaughter texts me when it’s a good sky day.  It’s out of hand.

But, you tell yourself, clouds are like deer.  No matter how many you see, the next one excites you.

So of course you take a picture.

And of course you take more than one.  Because you probably don’t have a picture of the clouds just so.  The shade of the blue sky might be slightly different.  That’s a different pattern.  You’ve never taken that photo that causes everyone to gasp when they see it.  Plus, you haven’t been in National Geographic yet.

You pass some yellow flowers thinking, I don’t think I’ve seen those yet this year.  But I have zillions of flower photos. You stop.

When you get home, the first thing you do is upload your photos.  You can’t wait to see them, although you just finished seeing the real thing.  You scrutinize each one, deciding which ones to discard, and you keep them all.  You just never know…

Yes, you’re a photo junkie, and for the photo junkies out there – you know exactly what I mean.

I know I’ve been saying for some time now that Bakersfield, CA is no longer a cow town. I’ve been talking about the burgeoning art scene – new galleries, First Fridays, and now something new (for me, anyhow) – The Shutter Clique! I can’t tell you much more about this group yet because my friend Terry Telford just told me about it.  Terry, whom I think I met on Twitter, can tell you anything about what’s going on.  She may not know it, but she’s my guide. I have a link to BakoArtistConnect on the sidebar – that’s Terry’s site, and also to Bakersfield Express, an online publication that covers the arts well.

Anyway, The Shutter Clique meets once a month for photo shoots, and last night we met at the old Woolworth’s store in downtown Bakersfield.  The Pink Ladies, who I think raise money for charity, volunteered to dress up and spend an hour or so, and a few kind folks brought their period cars.

What a whirlwind it was!  Speaking of whirlwinds, a photographer named Patrick Ang made a video of the whole thing – you can watch it here – and I think you should.  So entertaining.  If a picture is worth a thousand words, a video must be worth a million.  The woman in green at the beginning of the video is Jennifer Williams and she seemed to be in charge.  Perhaps she started the group.

So here we go.

Once we got started photographers were zooming around, getting shots from every angle.  It was like paparazzi.  And I had a rude awakening:  the only angle I could photograph from was the 5’2″ perspective.  Or straddle my legs like a tent.  It seems the getting up and down isn’t what it once was.

Great setting – I felt like I was in the movie Grease.  But – Sandy wouldn’t have recognized these ladies.  No skin-tight body suits for the Pink Ladies (ok guys, you have all seen Grease – right?)  In our day, we’re talking tats and piercings.

Oh the horror of it all – those 50′s parents would be shocked.  Of course, I have a tattoo also and soon I’m getting number two; plus we’re all parents, and we’re not shocked.

You know, I don’t even own a pair of glamorous shoes.  How I’d love to walk around in heels – but I’d fall over.  Age does take its toll.  I bet my Twitter friend Katherine has plenty of glamorous shoes.

The cars were really something. We were so proud of those automobiles – the bigger the better.

Gorgeous ladies – so nice to volunteer their time for us photogs.

Someone brought a very well-behaved dog.  This is my favorite picture of the batch.

You know, it was kind of funny being there.  My style of photography is slower and more deliberate.  I didn’t go popping around snap snap snap.  That’s not to say I won’t do that.  I’m going to learn so much from this group – watching them and looking at their photos.  There are always new ways to see.

I love how on my Canon 7D I can switch from color to black and white easily.

Even though the colors are popping, the black and whites seem more real.  I always marvel at that.

Ladies, let’s have some attitude.

And simple elegance.  Look at the fins on that Cadillac.  They went on for days.

Christina Sweet, who is multi-talented and very sweet, wants you all to know the cigarette is just a prop.  Hear that, kids?  I doubt that Christina’s kids will be reading my blog.

Me and my patterns – I like how the dress is reflected in the car.

So that’s it, folks.  My first go at this type of activity and it was great.  I am thankful, I mean really, deeply thankful, that there are younger people full of energy to get these kinds of groups going.

Coming attractions

Still have a post to write about the artisan fair at Caffeine Supreme, the Walk for the Arts, and the recent health fair.

It’s all about new, meaning change.  Confucius says this about change: They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom. Isn’t that an interesting idea?  That to remain constant, change is necessary?  As most simple statements go, this one is complex and I can’t pretend I understand it completely.  On the surface, it says to me that if we don’t change, we don’t grow, and if we don’t grow, we won’t be happy and surely won’t gain wisdom.

So I’ve changed things.  As if moving, changing our entire house and focus wasn’t enough.

Blog theme

I have a new theme.  What do y’all think?  I love change, then I get tired of change, then I want change.  Probably we’re all like that, but as I get older I think change will be confusing so I’ll have to find a way to confound Confucius.   Found a wordpress theme I like, changed over with a little help from my friends (well, my son-in-law at Webjacks Design).  He’s great if you need help.

New photos

Added new photos to some of the galleries and we got it fixed so you can access the gallery from the menu on top of the blog page.  So on the drop-down menu third from left that says My Photos, just choose the gallery you want to enter.  I think I put new ones in flowers, nature and misc.  Also, second from left is a tab for My Art.  Select any of the galleries and they will load without you having to go to a separate web page.

New Frogs

We had to have the pond redone at our new house, so I can’t say these are new frogs exactly.  But they’re new for us.  We know there’s at least nine and tonight I tiptoed out and saw three splashes.  But yesterday we saw a big ole guy and he sat there so I could take his picture.  He wasn’t wearing a top hat and tails – darn.  More about that later.

New Lilies

Talking about water lilies here, and water iris.  I bought some water plants and some day we hope to see frogs sitting on the lily pads.  I suppose frogs do that – they do in stories anyhow.

In fact, if anyone’s as old as me you’ve read the Thornton Burgess nature stories.  Oh how I loved those.  I read and re-read the adventures of Grandfather Frog in the Smiling Pool.  See him?  He always wore tails and had a top hat.  I cherished that image.

It’s only a little after 10 but I am zonked.  This whole toe adventure has really taken it out of me this week.  It hasn’t hurt today so that’s progress.  Oozed blood but that’s because I poked holes in it to relieve pressure.  No pain meds today – thank goodness.  Those meds, though critical when needed, sure rob you of time.  It’s like a lost week.

So I’ll just sit here for a while listening to the frogs peeping and croaking and get to bed. Need energy tomorrow – gearing up for more change.  Or more moving, at least.  Can you believe we’re not done yet?

Never did finish up on my visit.  Took photos of a few neat places in Paonia.  One is the underside of an outside awning on an old building.

The weathered wood has such great colors and textures.  Then add the brick in the next photo.

This next property you can own for $113,000.  For Harry Potter fans out there, the first thing I thought of looking at this was The Burrow.

The Burrow of course would be taller, but still – it’s the first thing I thought of.

If you want a really fine meal or the best cinnamon roll around, go to the Flying Fork.

And what artist wouldn’t want this as a studio?  I would love to be elsewhere when I work.

Remember the start of this visit? Snow, hail, the 50 mph windstorm,  freezing fog? It ended with Steve and Jackie mowing the lawn.

And it ended with dinosaurs.  Karen knows where all the best clearance sales are and I got this at the Walmart in Delta.  It’s amazing and I asked her to buy me one.  She’ll bring it next time she visits Cali.

Jack arranged his smaller dinosaurs in preparation for carnage.

We had one last walk outdoors.  Annabelle and Jackson carried on the motto the Bakersfield Six coined last year – why walk when you can run – uphill?

Cooper, however, is very determined about something.

It wouldn’t be Cloudarado without one final display.

Amazing colors.  And now – for some amazing rays

And now, I am too tired to continue. So say goodbye to Colorado for now.  Tomorrow I’ll bring you the next installment in the Case of the Damaged Toe, the pond and the frog, and my new blog design.

Now, to sleep, hit the hay, slumber, snooze, get 40 winks (why do I only get 40), and all that other sleepy stuff.  Night all.

Remember Annie’s Song by John Denver?

You fill up my senses
Like a night in a forest
Like a mountain in springtime
Like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert
Like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses
Come fill me again.

It’s a love song, but as April wanes, so does Creative Every Day’s theme of The Senses.  Nature fills up my senses as well as love – the song is perfect.  Anyone reading these blogs knows I’ve been slightly possessed by clouds this year.  The places clouds can take you! On our drive home from L.A., there were clouds aplenty.

Look at these colors.  From the bluest of blues to the whitest of whites, with shades of gray.  Even some brown. The clouds express such turbulence, but I find them exciting and beautiful. They don’t leave me feeling turbulent, but full of possibility for the unexpected.

As we headed up Interstate 5 and over the summit, we had this view of hills with wildflowers, a cloud sitting on the mountain, and blue skies.  What could we expect?

I was hoping for storm.  I hate missing weather! And during the day, there had been a humdinger of a storm in Bakersfield.  My sister said she walked out of her hair appointment and the skies opened up, negating the effects of the beauty salon.  My daughter said she was on yard duty where she teaches and the sky was blue.  But in the blink of an eye the sky began disgorging buckets of water.  And the wind was ferocious.  So I hoped these clouds spoke of a storm in my near future.

It was looking ominous and hopeful at the same time.  Storm, yes, but driving in the rain? Not so fine.  We, however, were not in control.

Here comes the rain.  Wow.  As we got to the bottom of the hill (I say “hill” but it’s more like a very steep downgrade that has two runaway truck ramps), I saw the most stunning rainbow of my life.

Look closely and you can just see that it’s a double rainbow.  And if you click on the photo to make it bigger, you’ll see that the pot of gold for this rainbow is a patch of pink wildflowers. We pulled off the road as fast as possible so I could get a photo, but it sure doesn’t capture the brilliance of this rainbow.  Talk about filling up senses.

This is the only photo that isn’t “car” photography.  All the others I took from the car.  My husband was driving so it’s not as bad as it sounds.  I love taking photos from the car.  Have to be so fast and sometimes the pictures are better than if you’d taken plenty of time.

I really do feel rapturous when looking at scenes of such great beauty.

And then we passed the other end of the rainbow – obscured by clouds but so intense in color.

I’m thinking, if I’m not careful people are going to start calling me the Cloud Lady.  But look at these – the light on the hills, the rain streaks, a hint of white, and then the layers of gray overlaid with puffs.

Almost home, and this was the most spectacular sky yet.  Wow!!!  As an English teacher, I wouldn’t let kids use more than one exclamation mark per essay, but these clouds deserve at least three.  They look like spooks.

After we got home and unloaded the car, the heavens emptied once more.  How could all that moisture be up there? Rained hard most of the night.  And at our cabin?  Ten more inches of snow.  There’s been so much snow this year we’ve not been able to get to our street.

A new studio

My studio is operational.  Now, for the time to work.  I’m going to Colorado on Tuesday to visit my daughter and family – so will I get anything done before then? Doubtful, but it’s ready when I am.

I have my work table set up, a place for the paper cutter (always hard to devote so much space to the paper cutter but it’s necessary), and even stuff on the walls.  Ok, art, not stuff.  I’m missing the drafting table – no room – so I’ll have to learn not to spread out so much as I work.

A place for my easel.  Technically, it’s William’s easel but the chances of him reclaiming it are slim so I might as well call it mine.

And we bought this nifty bookcase at Ikea for me to store paintings and photos in.  Most of my photos are still at the other house and this’ll fill up pretty quickly, but it’s so much better than what I’d been doing – having framed photos sitting in closets all over the house.  When I needed something I’d have to think – hmm, Altered Landscapes are in the studio, I think Italy is in my bedroom closet, Alaska is in the office cupboard – it wasn’t very efficient.

I should mention in case you are a new reader, that on my web site you can see my art and photographs.  I’ll be adding some new ones soon, as well as more items to my Etsy store.

Finally, my “office” is operational too.  Enough room finally for the computer and printer, the Epson 2200 photo printer, and my flatbed scanner.

So life is good.  My senses are full and not quite as tired as they were.  The worst of the move is over.  We’re not done – still stuff at the other house – but what’s left is mostly my husband’s business:  the garage, his office, etc.  He’s helped me so much that he is much less settled.  I have a pretty special husband.  We’ve been married 41 years – I think I’ll keep him.  He fills up my senses too.