Adventures of a Wanderer

Last fall, unhindered for the first time in my life, I made the most of my days. I tried to get out at least once a week for an adventure, and at long last did an overnight solo adventure. I revisited all my favorite places; how had a year gone by since I had last seen them. I also discovered some hidden gems.

Then last November happened. My mom collapsed from an aortic dissection, had emergency surgery and spent a month in the hospital and rehab. When I was in the midst of it, I was sure that I would never be able return to my adventurous life.

Eventually though, the fog cleared and everything returned to a new normal.

One good thing that came out of that time was the conversations I had with my dad as I drove him back and forth to the hospital to visit mom. After the initial recounting of details of how it all happened, we settled into conversations about his growing up years, and about his parents and grandparents. I had always known that my great-grandparents had lived a lot of places, but I didn't know that it was all my great-grandpa's idea. He would start a business, run it for a few years and then sell it, move someplace else, and start a new business, repeating the cycle over and over again. He even earned the nickname "the German gypsy". This was a glimpse into my soul.

Spring is here. I am still mostly unhindered, except for the cell phone that is always tucked into a pocket. Let's go explore some of my favorite places...




I hope that everyone has a joy-filled Easter next week. I will see you in a couple of weeks.

Orientation of the Frame

"For the working artist, the very best writings on art are not analytical or chronological; they are autobiographical. The artist, after all, was there."

                                                                                              ~ David Bayles & Ted Orland, Art & Fear

This statement struck me as I read the book Art & Fear. This is the reason I write my blog, I was there and I want to share it with you. It's about taking you on the journey with me, sharing what I learn, and hopefully inspiring you to go out and take your own adventures in the process.

This blog is also my scrapbook and my journal, showing me where I have been, and how far I have come. And with over five years of content, I have visible proof that I have come a long way.

In the spirit of forever being a student, I signed up for David duChemin's photography class The Compelling Frame in September. It was an investment, but still way cheaper than taking a college level course, one that I would also have to drive to. This class I can take in the creative open air space of my porch, and in the comfort of my pajamas. And you all should know by know, I am self-motivated enough to finish the course. This course is changing my life, both as a photographer and as a writer.

There are 19 lessons and it is taking me about two weeks per lesson, so this course should carry me through the long boring months of winter.

In the first lesson we had to choose what we think are our seven best photographs and then answer ten questions about each one, you can understand why this took me two weeks, but what an eye opening experience. Some on my "best" photographs had many layers of meaning in them, others not so much. The average viewer might just think that it is a pretty picture and move on...or they might find some layers in it for themselves if they linger long enough, different layers than mine, but layers nonetheless.

I am currently on Lesson Three - Frame Orientation. On my adventure day this week, I spent a lot of time shooting scenes both vertically and horizontally. I thought I would share comparisons:

This beach was a new discovery for me, which always makes the shooting experience more exciting.

I could tell you what I think about these, but I am curious to know your thoughts: which do you like better vertical or horizontal? Why?

SaveSave

Merry-Go-Rounds and Backroads

Exiting off the highway onto Stony Lake Road, I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. The morning rush hour traffic had dropped off a good ten miles back, but still I had a death grip on the steering wheel.

I had left the house at the first sign of daylight, as soon as I knew I would be able to see a deer paused at the side of the road. The very last thing I wanted to do was hit a deer, especially after my husband just had my car detailed two weeks ago. The morning held the promise of overcast skies, which made me feel less rushed, not having to hurry to my destination before the sun was too high. In fact a few rain drops hit the windshield as I drove northward, taking the backroads until I had to get on the highway.

The held breath could also be contributed to the book I am listening to: Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult. Great book but... I strongly dislike one of the main characters, Turk Bauer. I tense up every time his voice announces the start of his chapter. Now that his chapter is done, I push stop on the Audible App on my phone and eject the cassette tape adapter my phone is connected to. Safely off the highway and on one of my very favorite country roads, I want all my senses engaged with the drive. I discovered this road four years ago on one of my early backroads adventures.

Learning from my solo adventure last week, this week I had a destination in mind, the summer people community of Stony Lake, and the playground that lies at the heart of this tiny hamlet. When I first drove through this little community four years ago, my attention was drawn to the lake. As I turned my head from the lake and noticed the playground I had to do a double take: was that really a wooden merry-go-round? Three point turn and I was angle parked, grabbing my camera from the back seat and kneeling in the worn circle of dirt surrounding the merry-go-round.

I have tried to figure out what it is about the merry-go-round that captivates me, I think it boils down to being a treasure hunter and scarcity. I don't think I had ever seen a wooden merry-go-round in real life before that day, and there it was in tiny Stony Lake in all its chippy paint glory.

Lost in memories while I drive, I suddenly notice a crudely lettered sign for some haunted acres, and I want to stop and get a picture, but the fear of the sun emerging and taking away the lovely diffused light keeps me speeding along.

I angle park in the empty parking lot and notice that my merry-go-round sits in the shadow of a very large oak tree. Still, the overcast skies are creating such lovely soft light. My merry-go-round is still here, still the same, chippy paint and all. My intention is to do some self-portrait work here, capture myself with this treasure, so I unload the tripods, the camera body with the articulating screen, the remote shutter release, and the Lensbaby Velvet 56 lens I am using for my 365 photography project. I also have one photography prop with me, an old vintage camera from my collection, I figure I can use that to set focus. Focusing for self-portraits is no easy task.

I spend lots of time with the merry-go-round, walking round and round it, looking at it from every angle. Some shots I will like, some I won't, and some will be surprises.

Last year when I made this autumn drive and visited the playground, I explored beyond the merry-go-round and discovered a series of docks that were hidden down an embankment. This was about the time that my Canon 70D that I was shooting with decided to no longer work. I think I got all of two shots off before it froze up (I never travel without two camera bodies now). A lover of wooden docks, hmmm maybe wood is a theme here, I wanted to do some self-portraits here too. I need to invest in a longer range remote shutter release, because when I finally get the remote to work, I end up with a shot like this...

Not quite the tranquil, reflective moment I was going for. Glad the lens wasn't set any higher.

For this autumn season I am reviving my backroads adventures, I am having too much fun not to. So let's pray for an amazing October and a gentle November.

If you are curious about that first blog post I did at the playground, here is the link to it.

Solo Adventure

"Traveling for the sheer joy of it down a country road is a sweet search for things that are elusive; a quest for yesterday's pace and peace. Adventure for the sensitive."

                                                                             ~Doris Scharfenberg, Country Roads of Michigan

Four years ago I did a series here on the blog called Back Roads Adventures. I took a detailed map of all the different counties here in Michigan and began plotting different drives. All the roads began with the initial M (Michigan Road) or B (which probably doesn't stand for back road, but I can pretend). These roads were desired over roads that started with US (United States) or the worse of the letters, I (for Interstate).

Some of these M and B roads have become dear old friends, and I try to drive them at least once a year, usually in the Autumn so I can enjoy a fall color tour at the same time.

The one that calls me the loudest is B-35; a drive through small farming communities, past muddy cow pastures and golden corn fields. Even though it seems like just a scenic drive, there is a destination on this road, an old school house that is slowly, or quickly depending on the year, falling into decay. I pray every year that it is still there, so I can photograph it one more time, document the changes.

Four years ago, I would turn down any back road I came across, but I have found myself getting more hesitant to go out on driving adventures. It is so easy to just stay around home and not venture very far. But at forty-nine, I don't want my world getting smaller already. So I made a hotel reservation for an area of Michigan I haven't been to before, one night away seemed a good way to ease into it.

Last week when I set off on my first solo adventure since driving to Pennsylvania two years ago, my destination was east, across the state of Michigan, but somehow I found myself driving north first. Mainly to avoid those nasty US and Interstate roads, but also to set the mood for this solo adventure. The night before I left, I had a vision for the self-portrait that opens this blog post and I knew the perfect place to take it, the gravel road next to the decaying school house. The captured image turned out pretty close to what I envisioned; first time for everything.

There are a few things I will change for my next adventure:

1. One night wasn't quite long enough, so next time I will do two.
2. Less driving; spending more time in a few specific locations.
3. My favorite images from this trip are the self-portraits, so I will do more of those next time.
4. More research on a area, so I will know specific locations I want to explore.

There probably won't be any more solo overnights this year, but I am going to go out on some day adventures this fall. Getting started is the hardest part, now that that is conquered I know I can do more. 

Freedom

Photo Credit: Glen Huizenga

"What is this photograph about?"

I was reading the July-August 2016 issue of Lenswork magazine when I came across that question in the Editor's Comments section. The editor, Brooks Jensen, was talking about reviewing photographers' work that is sent to him to assess for the possibility of being published in Lenswork. Brooks said one of the first questions he asks himself when reviewing other photographers' work is - "What is this photograph about?"

I thought about the photographs that I had taken earlier that day and asked myself the same question. What are those photographs about? The answer that instantly came to mind was - Freedom. That answer could have been influenced by the fact that I was sitting on a chaise lounge chair next to my husband in the pool room of the Holiday Inn Express of Crawfordsville, Indiana, relaxing after a soothing soak in the hot tub. We were in Indiana for a mini getaway to photograph covered bridges, wander country roads and do a little hiking.

We had the freedom to get away because I no longer work outside of the house, my husband has oodles of vacation time left, we have a reliable vehicle, and enough Holiday Inn points to enjoy staying free for three nights. We had no set agenda, other than needing to be at the first covered bridge at sunrise, a very reasonable 8 a.m. We could wander anywhere we wanted for three full days.

With the loss of our dear golden retriever, Scout, there comes a new freedom. For the first time in thirty years, I no longer have a dog that I am responsible for. A huge weight of guilt about the desire to travel and explore has been lifted from my shoulders.

While my photographs have always been about adventure and discovery, I think there has always been a deeper theme running through them. Whether is was a few hours of stolen photographic wandering, a solo trip to the Pennsylvania countryside, or week long getaways to my favorite northern place, my photographs have always been about that deep need for freedom.

Celebration of Life

Last weekend my husband and I attended a Celebration of Life gathering for the wife of one of my husband's co-workers. We were gathering with the family to celebrate a gracious lady who passed away last fall, after a much too short battle with cancer. While the guys stood around talking about work, three of us 'spouses' sat at a long banquet table eating Swedish meatballs, and spinach feta dip with melt-in-your mouth homemade pita chips. While we caught up on each others' lives, we were also watching the photo slide presentation of Cathy's life on a large screen television. After the first loop of the presentation, the three of us made two observations: first, we were impressed with how many photos there were of Cathy and Charlie together; second, we needed to go through our own sticky page photo albums, and throw away some of the photos in them, before those photos showed up someday in our own Celebration of Life slide shows.

It's been quite a while since I have looked through those early years photo albums, so one day while everybody was gone, and it was only the dogs and me, I carried a dining room chair into our closet, reached into the back corner of a high shelf, and took down those dusty, sticky page albums. There are definitely some photos that need to go. My husband seemed to have a knack for taking surprise photos of me walking through doorways, I DO NOT want any of those in my Celebration of Life slide show. While looking through them, I across this photo, a 19-year old me in the late 1980's. Such a bad fashion era, when everything was oversized. Fashion aside, this photo was taken at the Hardy Dam, one of the dams I visited last week. This is still about as close as you can get to that fabulous building in the background. Needless to say this was disappointing.

I had much better luck at the Croton Dam, being able to view that from two different vantage points. This was the closest I could get. The explorer in me really wanted to go inside that building, but I know that isn't reality. I was jealous after I reading this sign.

To be able to ride an excursion train to this place, receive a tour, and have a grand dinner...Heaven! Can you imagine a time when this was an exciting adventure to many, as opposed to today's week long trips to amusement parks. I was born in the wrong era!

When my own Celebration of Life slide show plays someday, I want it filled with pictures of places I have been, things I have done. I want it to show that I lived this one glorious life to its fullest.

P.S.

For those who are wondering where the mysterious stairs from my last post led to, they led to this old building which is still a functioning elementary school.

Needs More Feeling

Guilt hung over me like a pregnant rain cloud as I backed my car out of the garage. Three pair of sad eyes followed the car's progress down the driveway, one hand and one little paw raised forlornly in a wave, the third set of eyes sat in silence, staring at me from his spot at the living room window.

If only they would understand that I am a better wife and mother when I take this time for solo adventures. I am a better photographer and writer when I push myself to explore unfamiliar places. There is comfort in the familiar, but growth happens when I push into the unknown.

This spring, whether I wrote pieces for a writing class I was taking, or posts for my blog, after I wrote the first, bits and pieces draft, and then the second, some semblance of order draft, I always made the same note after re-reading them the following morning - Needs More Feeling - written in red ink.

By noting this I didn't just mean add more feeling to my writing, I also meant add more feeling to my life. I am so busy moving from one event to the next, that I don't allow myself to feel, only observe, note details and move on. It is alright to be an observer, but I have to be aware of how things make me feel, that is the only way to bring people into the story or into the photograph.

I set off that rain cloud morning, to explore and photograph something I remember visiting as a child and then again in the very early years of our marriage, when I was only a slightly more grown-up child; a pair of hydroelectric dams, located on unexplored back roads in a northern county. When I mentioned to my husband where I was going that morning, he didn't like the idea, saying "people get killed at those dams". Now I have not heard of any murders there in recent years, and the rebel in me wanted to go even more, just to prove him wrong. I trust my intuition and if something seems off, I tend to play it safe and avoid the place.

As I drove down the road, my rain cloud of guilt trailed along behind me, I knew the only way to make that cloud dissipate was to get that first photograph taken, somehow then the joy of creativity takes over and guilt is banished. The fruit orchards in this northern place were in full bloom, and blooms were on my photo bucket list for the spring. Orchard found, photograph taken, the sun came out and the oppressive rain cloud was gone.

Reaching the town closest to the dams, I decided to stop at the local McDonald's for a bathroom break and a snack. Snack in bag, I drove to a small park located in the heart of downtown. I remembered the park from camping weekends with the in-laws in those early married years.

The park was quiet, and the picnic tables were clean. I settled in with my snack and a book. When finished with my hash brown and caramel latte, I closed my book, a few more chapters read in my book for the upcoming book club. I lifted my head and took in the view around me. I was surrounded by detail rich, old brick buildings. There was a tan brick church directly across the street from me with a beckoning door waiting to be photographed. Just past the church was a set of mysterious metal stairs leading upwards toward an even more mysterious looking building. I brought my trash to the receptacle, returned my book to the car, grabbed my camera and set off to explore the town.

I hadn't forgotten the dams, but I was learning to slow myself down, and trust my intuition. I was curious to see where the mysterious stairs led and how I would feel about my discovery.

Mental Health Day

Even though our winter was mild by Michigan standards, and I like photographing the barrenness of winter landscapes, it is not a time of year that I am keen on bundling up in many layers and traveling icy, snow drifted roads for the sake of adventure. Our spring has not been much kinder, full of raindrops, gray skies, and arthritis aching dampness.

Last Friday, the sun and the temperature finally united to form a perfect spring day. Knowing my daughter was working in town that day, and that she could give the puppy and my dear Scout an occasional potty break and romp around the backyard, I set out for a day long adventure.

As I drove towards my yet-to-be determined destination, I could hear the voice in my head singing with delight. I hesitate to call the voice in my head my Muse because that makes me sound so Woo Woo, and I am not a Woo Woo kind of person, but calling it the voice in my head makes me sound mentally unstable, so I think I will embrace Muse. I realized while I was driving, that I had not been on a solo adventure since last October when I drove to Pennsylvania to meet my friend Andrea for a week. Six months is much too long between adventures for my Muse, and she had grown very quiet, barely a whisper on the rare occasion. I need to hear her loud and clear in order to stay on my creative path.

I had two destination possibilities in mind, both were off the same highway exit, it was just a matter of turning right or turning left. When I reached the exit, I chose right. Right was towards a town I had wanted to explore last summer, but summer ran out before I got there. It was a twenty mile drive from the highway to the town, I settled into the country drive, and kept my eyes open for possibilities. About halfway to my destination I saw it: a small, white clapboard outbuilding nestled into the tall pine trees in an old country cemetery. The building would be perfect for the first lesson in Susan Tuttle's new e-course, Mobile Art Mastery. As usual, I didn't react fast enough to turn onto the narrow cemetery lane, so I drove to the next gravel road, and did my first three-point turn of the day. Once parked on the cemetery lane, I got out my camera and tripod, and got lost in the moment.

Overjoyed with my first find of the day, I knew I had made the right turn. As I drove on towards my destination I saw a mileage estimate sign for upcoming towns. My destination was only seven miles away, but another town, one that I had never been too before was only twenty-seven miles away. Well what the heck, the day was still young and I had plenty of time. I drove through my destination town and on to unknown adventure.

As I neared my new destination, I began to look for a bathroom, the chai latte I had had an hour earlier started to make it's presence known. Then suddenly to my left, I saw a sign for the Leila Arboretum, I forgot about the bathroom. I drove along the tranquil blossom filled roads, but then the chai's presence returned, I looked for a restroom along the tranquil roads, but no such luck. I decided to drive towards the downtown find a bathroom, have an early lunch, and then return to the gardens.

After lunch I returned to the Arboretum. Grabbing my camera with macro lens from the back seat I set off down the paths filled with flowering trees. Being high noon, I knew the macro was my best option, I wasn't going to get full landscapes, but I could get close up shots of the blossoms under the shade of the trees. I spent an hour walking, photographing and exploring.

I knew this was a town I wanted to come back to and investigate more, so I left the rest of the town for another day.

On my way home, I had the option to return the way I had come, or to pick an alternate route. I chose the alternate. There was more stopping, walking and photographing as I traveled along, all the while my Muse singing songs of joy. It was the creative day that I needed, and something I need to do on a more regular basis, both for my sanity and for the voice of my Muse.

9 Mile Journey

Last summer I got the wild idea that I wanted to walk a nine mile stretch of scenic lakeshore road, segment by segment, between my parents' house (my childhood home) and the cemetery where my grandparents and favorite great-aunt are buried. In July it was too hot to start, so I thought I would wait until fall. Fall came along with cooler weather, but I was also doing a lot of traveling, so the nine mile walk never began.

Maybe it's the spot that I am at in my life that has me yearning to revisit childhood places. My child raising days are behind me, my parents are aging but still healthy, and I am well settled into our thirty year marriage. Or maybe it's the natural progression in the four year, self-discovery journey that I have been on.

Some ideas seem good but then quickly fade if not acted upon immediately, but the need to do this walk has only grown stronger. So now, almost a year later, I am beginning. I still plan on doing it in segments, parking my car, walking a mile or two, and then walking back to my car. In the end I will have doubled my nine mile walk.

So much of my history is located along this road, favorite parks, including the one where I love to do self-portrait photography. There is the former house of friends of my parents, many Sunday mornings after church we would go there for coffee or tea in delicate china cups, and nibble on sugar cookies. This house had unique nooks and crannies, being built by the owner, that I loved to explore while the adults chatted in the kitchen. I think this is where my love of buildings began.

I have ridden along this stretch of road hundreds of times, but I have never walked more than this bridge section. There is something about walking that forces you to slow down and truly see what is around you. I am excited to see what memories this nine mile journey uncovers. I am hopeful to complete it by October. If I get it done sooner, maybe I can find another memory lane to travel down.