That’ll teach me to try out anything new when my brain is still stuck in neutral. I hate this look and can’t find my way back after hitting the wrong button when I only meant to PREVIEW……. arrrgh
Pardon me if I disappear for a bit (again) until I work my way through this muddle.
Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
PS… I seem to have stumbled back to where I was, but plan to pause to get my head clear before I try anything again…
The weatherman is threatening ever lower temperatures with a possibility of snow tomorrow. That is a rare event at the beach indeed! Raindrops blossom brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky.
― John Muir, The Mountains of California
Somewhere in there I lost an entire week…The plan (best laid and all) was to share much to be thankful for with friends who happen to bake the most wonderful bread in this oven. But it occurred that the night before Feasting and Thanking, the throat was a little sore. By morning, the cough was sounding like the foghorn down by the jetty. My patient pup slept quietly by my side as I barely managed to get up to feed and allow her to take care of ‘business’.I finally returned to the living on Tuesday and looked out the window to find the above….. I’ll leave y’all to imagine my frustration at not finding a better setting to catch this mind-boggling bright double rainbow… as if to tease me into a relapse! But no, I gathered my strength and recovered enough to take Sissy for a run at the park today. She had much pent up energy to release, but I wasn’t quick enough to catch her in a classic running shot. I’ve made a bit of progress catching up with replies to comments and checking out your posts, but still have more to read yet. The weather has turned frigid. Last night it was around 28° (-5°C) with snow in the forecast for Friday. Give me strength…… (but not enough to photoshop the power lines and poles out of there!)
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off–then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
~Herman Melville (1819-1891. Novelist, author, teacher, sailor, poet. Moby Dick)
Happy Thanksgiving to all. May you have much to be thankful for. I’m especially thankful for these gorgeous sunsets we’ve been having. My faith is whatever makes me feel good about being alive. If your religion doesn’t make you feel good to be alive, what the hell is the point of it?
― Tom Robbins, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates
How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn’t care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.
― Emily Dickinson
Was not too sure about this one. There’s something in the color and reflections that appeals, but a bit off-putting at the same time… I’m tossing it out for opinions from the viewers:I think nighttime is dark so you can imagine your fears with less distraction.
― Bill Watterson, The Indispensable Calvin and Hobbes
Back to Friday’s lovely sunset. Saturday was a series of uninspiring daytime shots, because it was the sort of day most folks associate with summer at the beach; warm, no wind to speak of, a perfectly calm sea and not a cloud to be seen. Amazingly enough it was actually warmer right on the beach than a short distance inland. But I can’t show you what it looked like. I’d forgotten to charge the battery since the trip to Shasta (near the end of October) and, of course, I rarely remember to shut it off. To top it all off, I had taken the memory card out the previous night and forgotten to reinsert it. Normally, the camera would tell me the card was missing, so I blithely shot away, but with the battery missing, it apparently didn’t have the juice to warn me… or I might have inserted the spare battery and card. I don’t think any of us are missing much from that particular outing. Except the walk was pleasant.
Judging by the number of tripods on the beach it was another photo workshop going on….. they lucked out with a very lovely sunset… tripods seem to be sprouting up all over. This scares me a little. I picture mobs of tripods cluttering what once I felt to be a beach I had pretty much to myself quite often….. it brings to mind a quote I’ve used before:
We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides — pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book.
“No one sees the barn,” he said finally.
A long silence followed.
“Once you’ve seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn.”
He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others.
We’re not here to capture an image, we’re here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies.”
There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides.
“Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We’ve agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism.”
Another silence ensued.
and I did indeed take pictures of the folks taking pictures…..
Nothing quite like a stroll on the beach with the dog…Take a moment from time to time to remember that you are alive. I know this sounds a trifle obvious, but it is amazing how little time we take to remark upon this singular and gratifying fact. By the most astounding stroke of luck an infinitesimal portion of all the matter in the universe came together to create you and for the tiniest moment in the great span of eternity you have the incomparable privilege to exist.
― Bill Bryson, I’m a Stranger Here Myself: Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away