Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems. ~Rainer Maria Rilke
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Last Roses of Summer
These roses are still growing and blooming, even though it's November. Hey...., wait a minute! That photo on the bottom right is not a rose. It's Viburnum caprifoliaceae. Well now...., how did that happen? The leaves are turning their beautiful red and some of the leaves have fallen off already. What is it doing? It a gorgeous bush in the Fall because of it's color, but it's not suppose to be blooming.It's even got two very small, new, green leaves underneath the flower. Poor little flower, we had a couple of days of warm weather and it thought summer was here again. Can you imagine the effort that was made to produce that flower, when the plant was going dormant. You've got to give that bush credit. It's hard to keep up with the "roses" of this world. So, I think it deserves to be in this group picture. Too bad some of that monumental effort can't rub off on the "leaners" of this world, the ones who whine and complain and don't do anything to make things better. Maybe there is a little miracle going on here and there is a bigger meaning to this. I'm always amazed at the small things that happen in nature without an evident reason.
From now on I'm going to call this plant the "Obama" rose. It made a huge effort and it won it's place in the rose garden. Now we'll have to see if the effort makes a difference. I hope so.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Zoom in, Zoom out..., and turn off immediately in the event of malfunction.
I have been so busy learning to use my new camera that little else is getting done around here. This Nikon D40 is such an amazing camera. It does all kinds of things that my little point and shoot couldn't. (Sorry little Canon but it's true).
I took the photo above on "auto closeup", with a small tripod so the camera would be very steady. Look how sharp the picture is. I bought this pair of pillow cases a few days ago at an antique store. They are so beautiful; hand embroidered and crocheted. I think the camera really details all the lovely work that someone did on these, a long time ago.
These are chrysanthemums that I brought in from the garden and have in a vase on the table. I took two pictures and then used Picassa to blend them into a collage. I used the "auto closeup" on these too. Picassa is so much fun. That's a white spider mum superimposed onto a bright orange mum. I'm probably more excited about this than you are, but it is pretty isn't it?
This was taken with the Nikon 55-200mm 1:4-5.6G Lens that came as an extra lens with my camera. It takes pictures across our canyon so much better than I was ever able to before. I took this photo as the sun was setting. It was very cloudy, but the sun came through the clouds for a few minutes and I got this shot with the last of the sun lighting this hill even though the rest of the hills and sky were getting very dark.
I watched a video this afternoon that came with the camera. They said that I should always use the"auto landscape" for shots like this because the colors of the trees and sky will be stronger and brighter. I didn't know that when I took this shot. I just used "Automatic". So I learned something that I can try next time. Still, I'm please with the results.
I have so much to learn about this camera but I'm having fun with it. It's a real learning curve. This is good for my age-challenged mind. I have to keep those good brain cells from dying for lack of anything to do. Plus I take a hike every day, which is good for me too. I use to look at a walk as something I "had" to do. Now, with the camera around my neck, I'm on a quest. I always wanted to go on a "vision quest" and now , in a matter of speaking, I go on one everyday.
No dreams last night, that I can remember, but the one about my dad has stuck with me. It's like the many photos I take everyday, This one is as clear and focused as if I had taken a video of it or a string of still shots. Dreams are so amazing. Our minds are constantly reacting and collecting the information of our lives and we think we understand. Then a dream appears that tells us that we really don't understand at all. It's like we live a dream within another dream and when the journey ends maybe we'll just become a part of some dream that we dreamed......,
Ok, it's time to go to bed. I know! That was just way too spacy for all of you. It was for me too. Goodnight.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
I had a dream about my father early this morning. ...,
It's been almost a year and a half since he died. I never had a dream about him after he passed. It seemed as though he just disappeared from the earth and my sight. The only place that I found him was in my heart and in all the memories, good and bad, that lingered in his place. And then, this morning I had this dream....
He was waiting for us in some kind of park. There were other people walking around. It was a fair or outdoor show. I saw him over near the wall of a building behind a planter that had beautiful flowers blooming in it. He seems to be waiting. He was just standing there, smiling just a little. I walked over and asked him if he was all right. He said "Yes" and we hugged each other. I could feel his bones through his skin as I held him. I felt short, as if I were a young girl. I was hugging him around his waist instead of his shoulders. He hugged me back but he seemed frail and weak. He asked me where everyone was and I said "I'm not sure." We looked around but couldn't see anyone we knew. So we just waited there together and I held on to his hand.
That was all. I woke up. When I went into the kitchen I still felt like I wasn't quite awake; that I was still somewhere else. My husband came in and looked at me. "Mornin', you look like you need a cup of coffee." I told him that I had a dream about Dad. He came over, gave me a hug and said "Are you all right?". I held on to him and cried for a few minutes then grabbed a kleenex, poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down on the couch.
I sat there for quite a while, sipping coffee and thinking about the dream. I think it was a good dream and that Dad is Ok. I just don't know why this dream came now...., or why we dream..., or what the dream meant. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.