Scene & Story - September 2017

September marks the start of my favorite season ~ the Learning Season. I never enjoyed it as a kid, but I loved it as a mother.

I was not an outstanding student, especially in math, there I slipped to the bottom of the pool; but English, English was my life saver. I understood and excelled in reading and given time, I probably would have excelled at writing as well.

When September started this year, I felt compelled to get back to some writing exercises. I scoured my board on Pinterest that held photography/writing prompt lists and picked the one that felt right. Conveniently it was a September Photo A Day list, but I picked it because I loved the first prompt - Music. On September 1st, I sat down at my desk with my word and revived a writing exercise I learned a couple of years ago when I took Laurie Wagner's writing class Telling True Stories. The writing practice is called Wild Writing, fifteen minutes of continuous writing on your chosen word or phrase, pen never leaving the page. Don't try to make sense or correct or edit yourself, just write.

I spent the first two days writing about how I didn't want to write, how I would rather go check the laundry or wash the dishes. In the final two minutes, I would write something about Music. On the third day, I had cleared all that other junk out of my head and could focus on writing something about music. I stuck with the topic day after day as more and more memories continued to emerge. The best one was remembering music class in elementary school, and the blue milk crate that contained the fun instruments like finger cymbals, maracas, and my favorite - the little silver triangle with the silver striker. I even remembered my music teacher's name, which led to a Google search. I learned she had passed away in 2008, had never married but was an awesome aunt, and spent most of her years teaching 2nd grade, not music.

While I dip my toe in and out of writing, I remain fully submerged in photography, so I thought it would be fun to find a little silver triangle and striker and have my daughter hold it so I could photograph it to go with the story I was writing. Of course, I couldn't have a brand new triangle, which I am sure I could have easily found. Oh no, I needed a vintage silver triangle, so off to the antique store I went, and after five antique stores I still hadn't found one.

About this time an email came into my inbox from Laurie Wagner. She was starting a brand new, self-paced e-course called 27 Days of Wild Writing. A daily video with a daily writing prompt for 27 days. Well sign me up, I wasn't getting very far on my own. I am currently on Day 19 and when I finish, I plan to start all over again. What I wrote last month on a prompt will be completely different than what I write this month. That's the beauty and the frustration of life, it is always changing.

So what does the photograph at the beginning of this post have to do with this story? Absolutely nothing, or maybe everything...

An InLinkz Link-up

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. 

At First Glance

At first glance, and let's be honest that's all we will give it, the culture of fast scrolling and double tapping so ingrained in us, we see a dog resting peacefully on a brown couch.

But as we scroll past and do a double tap, did we note what kind of dog is was? What was the material of the couch the dog rests on? Where was the light coming from? What time of day was it?

Twenty pictures further along in the feed, will we even remember we saw the dog?

Trust me, the finger I am pointing at you is also hastily scrolling on the screen on my own device. But  in your haste, in my haste, what are we missing? Are we missing the story, the hint of what lies deeper?

As you scrolled and tapped did you wonder how old the dog is? Did you wonder what his name is? Would you guess that this is a rare moment, the sweet adolescent for once sitting still long enough for me to manually focus on the catch light in his eye? Did you notice his catfish long whiskers?

What about the hint of what lies beyond the dog and the couch? Are you curious enough to run your eyes around the edge of the frame? Curious enough to linger?

I have been trying to be more intentional in my own social media browsing, taking my time to drink in the details, run my eyes along the edge of the frame. Is there something there that intrigues me? I will never know if I scroll at the speed of lightening.

My daughter's former boss and her husband are taking an extended road trip, exploring back roads and local small town eateries. I want to follow their trip. I'm curious to see where they go, make notes for our own future trips. I need to slow the scrolling, take time to linger, see where people are going, read their stories. I want to invest in their stories, I want to invest in my own story.

I want to find my way back to curiosity.

Scene & Story - August 2017

August was a long month. By the end of August I am so ready for summer to be over and for my favorite season of the year begin. I am tired of the sun, the washed out colors, the noise, the heat and especially the humidity, which is no friend of this curly-haired girl.

In spite of my strong feelings about August, it was good month. I completed a 30 Day Photography Composition challenge, learning many things about myself and my photography in the process, always a rewarding experience. I took care of a friend's puppy for a week and survived; I learned I am not quite ready for a puppy of my own. I continued to work on my personal photography project - The Meadow, only missing the week I watched the puppy.

But the best part of August was two trips North. One with my husband, which I wrote about in my last blog post, and one with my daughter for a long overdue girls' weekend.

I realized it has been over three years since my daughter and I did a weekend away, much too long for someone who loves quality time with her family. She wanted me to take her wine tasting, which we did, but I also added a twilight tour of the former insane asylum - perfect for the photographer mother and the history major daughter, coffee in our favorite up-north town, a trip to the bookstore and a book, some rock collecting, a food truck experience, a lighthouse, and a trip to the lavender farm - which is where the above photo was taken - enjoying lavender lemonade and  lavender shortbread cookies on the patio of the Secret Garden.

It was a great weekend, three years won't pass before we do it again.

An InLinkz Link-up

The Secret Garden

When I am in the midst of struggle and feeling overwhelmed it is impossible for me to see an end to it. That was my year last year. We were on a week by week basis on making a decision about our dear golden retriever, Scout. His decline was so apparent, but nobody wanted to rush the inevitable. Our daughter was still living at home with her golden retriever puppy, Findley. I love Findley, but a puppy is a puppy, especially when I saw the constant contrast between him and 13-year old Scout. Our daughter was on the verge of making a job change, a much needed job change, but one that would drastically change everyones' schedules. I felt creatively empty.

It was this exact same time last year that I was able to sneak away with my husband for a couple of days up north. He had to go for work, and I was able to tag along and use the car during the day to go exploring with my camera. It was the break I desperately needed. While none of life's circumstances changed when we returned, at least I felt refreshed and renewed. Scout hung on until October, and then the decision was made for us, our daughter did change jobs and it was challenging, but we made it work, and thankfully Findley continued to grow up. 

Here it is exactly a year later and I find myself up north again with my husband, he again for work and me exploring the places I love with my camera. Many of life's circumstances have changed in this last year: Scout is gone, and we are dogless; our daughter moved out in February to her own place with Findley, she changed jobs one more time, and now has a stable schedule that allows her to provide for herself, go home at lunch to let Fin out and not work nights or weekends. 

I feel creatively alive this year, finally having time and space without having worry constantly nagging me. But I am most proud of myself for never giving up last year, I kept pulling my camera out every chance I got, I kept writing. Even if none of that is my best work, it taught me discipline and resilience which will get me through the next period of struggle and feeling overwhelmed, it is inevitable, it will come again. 

While we were up north and having drinks with one of my husband's coworkers, he showed me photos on his phone of this Secret Garden Lavender Farm. I made that my destination on our last morning away, what a peaceful, awe inspiring place at eight o'clock in the morning. 

What a difference a year makes. 

Scene & Story - July 2017

"We seldom get what we want without struggle and loss. We do not become who we want to become - the best versions of ourselves - without passing through the fire."                              

                                                                                      ~ David duChemin

I am constantly drawn back to this photograph. The contrast of light and dark, the depth. The delicateness of the spider webs, the heaviness of the shadows around the edges. A lot like life, there is goodness there, but we must look for it, and it will often be surrounded by struggles, darkness, and loss.  

An InLinkz Link-up