Curious

Week 16

Curious

April 17, 2011

I think we lose some of our curiosity as we grow up. Well, maybe not lose it, but we pretend it gets more sophisticated. Okay, sometimes it really is more sophisticated. But more often than not, I think we just start to worry more about what we already know or what people think of us than allowing ourselves to be curious, to seek out new things. There really is joy in this kind of discovery. Just ask my friends' little girl Maddy, pictured above, reaching out to touch the creature we named "Chester". Chester the Caterpillar. You are watching her just before she was squealing with delight.  Really, when's the last time you squealed with delight? It's been awhile for me, I'll tell ya.

How often as an adult have you stopped to touch a caterpillar, just to see what it feels like? Is it prickly? Is it soft? Does it wiggle when you touch it? So many questions.... Maybe you're not curious about a caterpillar, but you kinda think farms are interesting, or plants, or sticky things. Whatever you are curious about, go out and be a kid today. Touch stuff. Learn about something new and don't worry about what the people around you think...besides the police...you can worry about what they think... but otherwise, just go out and explore!



Image taken with Canon 5DMII, 24-70 2.8L lens, 1/1000 sec @f2.8, ISO 400

Let the Sun Shine Through

Week 15

Let the Sun Shine Through
April 16, 2011

I was in Richmond, VA last Saturday when the devastating storms rolled through the Carolinas and Virginia on their destructive run throughout the South. Fortunately, my parents' community wasn't affected, but during one of the many thunderstorms that passed through, I noticed an unusual brightness outside through the bay window from my vantage point at the kitchen table. Curious, I walked out to the side porch to find it still pouring rain, but with an opening of sorts in the sky through which the sun shone. The image above was shot during that brief dichotomous moment, and I wanted to share it.

 

Of course, the image drew a parallel for me regarding our own "storms". Sometimes when we least expect it, and during the most torrential squalls in our lives we experience a bright moment. A moment that reminds us the storm won't always be there. That the fear and danger will eventually pass, and that brightness and life-giving warmth awaits us if we trust in it and choose to not give up.

 

 

 

image taken with Canon 5DMII, 24-105 4L lens, 1/400 sec @f11, ISO 400

Hometown

Week 14

Hometown

April 7, 2011

 I'm from Richmond, VA. Well, I suppose I'm actually from the Richmond area, having been raised close by, but technically outside of Richmond proper. All the same, I was looking through last week's images and this shot of the Robert E. Lee bridge and Richmond skyline, taken just after sunrise from the floodwall on the south side of the James River prompted me to write about home. So here is the image, and here I am, writing about home.

Last year in one of my blogposts, I described how we can make a home and be happy most anywhere, and I still believe that to be true. That a given, there is something to be said for coming "home". The place we were raised. Maybe you have family there, long-time friends, or perhaps all that's left from the place you call home are vivid memories of childhood. Perhaps all you get is a feeling when you are back home that you don't get anywhere else. There is a familiarity and comfort level that comes with being in a place that so many new experiences were collected.

The neighborhood I grew up in is like that, as is the community where I spent my high school years (and where my parents still live), as well as the burg where I went to college, and the small town where I first began a career. That must be it... the memories and "firsts". Looking back, I'd have to say that the many places I have lived since, while appreciated and special in their own way, don't have the feeling of "home" or nostalgia associated with these places of "firsts".



Image taken with Canon 5DMII, 24-70 2.8L lens, 1/125 sec @f11, ISO 400

Making Noise

Week 13

Making Noise
March 28, 2011

The image above was taken while in Southern California, north of Morro Bay where those interested can often find elephant seals sunbathing on the beach. Interesting creatures. Huge and all piled up next to, sometimes on top of one another, these beach-goers occasionally make their wishes known in the form of honks and yelps, mouths wide open and baring their tonsils (that is, if elephant seals have tonsils...). For some reason, the image brought to mind the idea of speaking up.

I'm a pretty low-key guy. Most people that know me will tell you I'm not generally one to make a big fuss, especially if the only person that's going to be affected is me. Not a commentary on whether it's a good or a bad thing, but it seems to be how I'm wired. I do believe, though, that there are times where speaking up is not only the best way to let people know how you feel about something, but there is a moral obligation to "make noise" as it were.

My point here isn't to dispense my own thoughts on specific issues, but rather to encourage those that may hesitate to speak up in the face of embarassment, shame, or assumed outsiders' perception that there is indeed a time to make noise. Making noise should not be violent or hateful. It should always be respectful, and if possible, kind. It should also be clear, and voiced with the understanding that there will be those who disagree, and they have value as people. Individuals make choices on how to behave, of course, but it's important to distinguish between that person's decisions and the inherent worth that person holds simply by bearing an image of the same creator that formed you and me.


image taken with Canon 5DMII, 70-200 2.8L IS lens, 1/1000 sec. @ f2.8, ISO 400

Nicely Arranged

Week 12

Nicely Arranged

March 25, 2011

It never ceases to amaze me how elabortate and beautiful our surroundings have been designed to be. I consider myself to be pretty clever and inventive guy of sorts, but with every ounce of creative juice I could muster, I wouldn't be able to touch the intricacy found in just one square foot of dirt under my feet.  One example comes to mind. I recently had a conversation about fractals in nature. For those like me that didn't know what fractals are, Wikipedia references literature that calls a fractal "a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be split into parts, each of which is (at least approximately) a reduced-size copy of the whole". So, like a snowflake, or a frost crystal, or ferns... the idea is that when magnified, these shapes are infinitely complex. (While the image above is not an example of a fractal, it did strike me as an unusual shape and quite interesting arrangement.) It's quite humbling to me. That we are not only privileged enough to dwell amongst it all, but indeed, that we are charged with taking care of it.


image taken with Canon 5DMII, 50mm 1.8 lens, 1/640 sec @f1.8, ISO 100