Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
from Desiderata by Max Ehrmann (1872-1945)
The weather was simply too beautiful to stay inside today, so I took my camera out to a local park to photograph, just for the sheer joy of capturing the image. As I sat near the small lake, my eye was drawn to the reflections of the columns in the water; I then noticed that the ripples of the water are projected onto the columns, creating a double reflection. The symmetry of the lines and curves and the muted brown and grey tones brought to mind this line from the poem Desiderata (“essential things”).
My favorite shots are those I capture when they don’t know they’re being photographed. I caught this as I was setting up for the bridal party’s outdoor portrait during a recent wedding shoot. Pure joy! That’s what I see here.
I took a friend from Shanghai to photograph our state’s treasure, The Grand Canyon. I was disappointed that I could not “give” her one of Arizona’s fabulous sunsets which would paint the canyon in a riot of colors and hues. When I viewed my images later, I realized that what we had captured might be as good as, or better than, the typical sunset photograph that is ubiquitous throughout the gift shops in Arizona and on the Internet.
We had waited patiently for sunset, just sure that the clouds would shift ever so slightly to allow the sun to give us a show. We watched the rain as it moved around the butte to form a soft curtain which made its path steadily toward us.
I’m sure that we looked absurd when we donned rain ponchos and held umbrellas above our cameras as we stubbornly stayed to capture the last bit of light and shadow in The Grand Canyon (and before the last shuttle departed).
Throughout the day, I had wished for a break in the clouds for the dance of light in the canyon. We got a few glorious moments.
I took my granddaughter to her first ice-skating lesson on Saturday. Before her lesson, she watched the older girls spinning and jumping and said that she wants to do that. After the lesson, she quietly commented, “This is hard.”
Watching the skaters
To wake to the sounds of birdsong, sit in the pre-dawn quiet, and watch the sun gently rise over the distant ridge is to feel the soft touch of our Creator.
Sunrise in the Rim Country of Arizona
Last week, I was blessed with time for myself with three days of solitude (with my cocker spaniel) in a cabin in the mountains, followed by two days of camping with my sons and their families. It’s been far too long since I’ve taken pictures just for myself, without worrying about pleasing the client. These were pure pleasure to shoot (along with the 1330 other images I captured during my retreat/vacation).
Full Moon rising
Twilight in the High Country
Early Morning Solitude
Elle examines, explores, and experiences life fully. Her actions continually remind me that sometimes it’s good to put aside my adult concerns and just play, or check out that flower, or plant a leaf in mud just to see what happens.
I used to be an active blogger, writing daily and posting every image that I thought was fabulous. (Of course, they weren’t, but I thought so then.) From time to time, I’d talk about my life and share images of my family.
And then I retired. And got BUSY. Ironic isn’t it? Now that I am retired, it seems that I have less time, resulting in only sporadic posts.
I’ve picked up a few photo jobs here and there .. engagement shoots, family portraits, and (oh I’m so anxious about this one) a wedding this Friday.
Here’s David, who so graciously agreed to sit while I practiced lighting patterns.
My 4-yr old granddaughter said this picture makes her feel sad. When I asked why, she answered, “The butterfly is all alone.”
This is a reflection of a Chihuly sculpture tucked away in the reeds surrounding a small stream in the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix, AZ (USA).