Saturday, September 14, 2013

The Sky Said Cheese

I posted a photo on the FascinationEarth Facebook page this afternoon, and I just wanted to take a minute here on the blog to tell you a funny story about how I got that photo.  I thought it was interesting, and maybe you will too.

 I was sitting on the front porch this morning, enjoying a cooler temperature than we've had in the last several days.  I noticed that the sky was wearing one of my favorite shades of blue, dotted with white puffy clouds... Bob Ross's "happy little clouds".  It was clear and bright, and the first thought that came to my mind was "You know it's going to be a good day when you look at the sky and there are no chemtrails".  I decided to take a picture, so I went inside to fetch the camera.  By the time I returned and aimed my lens at the sky, a small shiny object had invaded my field of view, so I lowered the camera until the plane passed by.  A new group of white and fluffies were on their way, so I raised the camera again.  Now, in the two seconds it took me to raise the camera, those white and fluffies had moved into an interesting formation.  One that was not there just those two seconds before ... one that seemed to only appear as I looked through the viewfinder.  It lasted a few seconds more, after I took the shot, before the wind carried them off again to do their own thing.  This is what I saw:

you know it's going to be a good day when you smile
up at the blue sky...
and the sky smiles back!


Saturday, May 4, 2013

In My Own Way

My husband makes so much fun of my hippie throwback, tree hugging, one with the universe, groovy kind of love affair with nature.  Don't get me wrong, he's very respectful of my free spirit.  He walks with me down hiking trails, and even carries the backpack.  He oohs and aahs at every photograph with enthusiastic interest -- even if it's nothing more than a tangled mess of tree roots.  But sometimes his humorous observations of me are so true that even I can't help but double over in hysterics.

A few weeks ago, we spent an evening laying back in the Adirondack chairs, admiring the Spring growth in the forest all around us.  I had forgotten that the previously mentioned growth includes the wide wonderful world of insects, but they didn't mind reminding me.  As a persistent bee swung in and out of my personal space, I bobbed and dodged and eventually fled the scene.  Once the coast was clear and I returned to my recline, a little green worm dropped out of some low hanging branches and landed in my lap, causing me to jump up once again.

I had spent the better part of a half an hour swatting and shooing and bobbing and weaving, while Hubsy just  looked on from his laid back chair.  Finally he stood and opened the door for me, chuckling and asking ... "are you done loving the nature yet?"

A couple of days ago, we went for a nice walk in the woods on a warm, sunny day.  As my feet moseyed along my eyes jumped from the top of the tall pines, to the geese that migrated by, to the underbrush from which echoed the flute like call of a blue jay.  Butterflies fluttered past and petals dropped from tree limbs onto the path before us.  Every so often Mother Nature's heavy perfume drifted on the breeze and swirled all around me.  I was deeply soul stirred by the experience, and inspired to discover the origin of that scent.  As we walked on, I stopped to sniff at various leaves on trees, bushes, wild flowers on the ground, to no avail.  And then the fragrance would swirl again.  I was so frustrated by not being able to locate this glorious scent that has captivated me, and yet I was so captivated, I stopped in my spot, stomped a foot, and erupted with a truly heart felt "Son-of-a-Bitch."  Well Hubsy stopped as well, and looked back to see what had gone wrong.  Had I been bitten?  Had I tripped?  Was I in pain of some sort?  No.  "It smells so freaking good!", (but I didn't say freaking).

Well Hubsy began to chuckle again.  He took a few steps back to where I stood, and put his arm around my shoulder, and gently encouraged me to continue walking down the path towards home.  "I thought you loved nature." he commented.  "I do."  I responded.  He laughed, "But you're cursing at it."  Yes I did.  I just couldn't take it, in that one momentary instant of time I couldn't find a better way to express the intensity of my emotion, and that's how it came out.  "I love the way you love nature" he said ... so angrily."

And just in case you're really interested, it turned out to be pockets of jasmine sporadically vining along the path, hidden amongst all the other new shoots.  A treasure worth hunting for, dammit!