Somewhere in NJ

Winter color

2009-12-03T23:32:00.002-05:00

"The color, we say, is gone, remembering vivid October and verdant May. What we really mean is that the spectacular color has passed and we now have the quiet tones of Winter around us, the browns, the tans, a narrower range of greens, with only an occasional accent in the lingering Winter berries. But the color isn't really gone.

The meadow is sere tan, but that is a tan of a dozen different shades from gold to russet. The fallen leaves have been leached of their reds and yellows, but theirs is no monotone by any means. The bronze curve of the goldenrod stem emphasizes the ruddy exclamation point of the cattail. The rough brown bark of the oak makes the trunk of the sugar maple appear armored in rusty iron. The thorny stalk of the thistle stands beside the cinnamon seed head of the pungent bee balm. Dark eyes stare from the white parentheses of the stark birches, bronze tufts of one-winged seeds tassel the box elder, miniature "cones" adorn the black-brown alders at the swamp's edge.

In the woods, the insistent green of Christmas fern and partridgeberry leaf compete with the creeping ancients, ground cedar and running pine. Hemlock, spruce and pine trees cling to their own shades of green, individual as the trees themselves. And on their trunks are paint patches of the ancient lichen, tan and red and blue and green, like faint reflections of vanished floral color.

The color is still there, though its spectrum has somewhat narrowed. Perhaps it takes a Winter eye to see it, an eye that can forget October and not yearn for May too soon."

-Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons

(still my favorite book in the world!)

I love the way this author makes me stop to notice or puts a name to the things that grab my attention. Always there's something to learn from Borland's observations.

Anyway...

Anyone recognize the flower in this pic?

IATB #114

2009-12-03T00:01:00.000-05:00

The latest I and the Bird is up at The Life of a Bird Tour Leader. Have a peek!

I'll be hosting in February of 2010... so you all better start dreaming up some interesting bird-related posts in the meantime.

;-)

Wordless Wednesday

2009-12-02T21:13:00.001-05:00

World AIDS Day/The Mask Project

2009-12-01T23:51:00.003-05:00

In an effort to raise awareness of issues surrounding HIV/AIDS, housing, poverty and justice, clients and supporters of The Center in Asbury Park participated in a mask-making project that resulted in an amazing array of one-of-a-kind works of art.

During the face casting process, each *face donor* was asked a series of self-reflective questions; the answers were then used by the artists to depict the face of the person. Found objects were used to decorate the masks as a way of mirroring the experience of homeless persons who make do with the resources available to them in their daily travels.

The masks were auctioned off tonight as part of the local commemoration of World AIDS Day and I stopped by to see the exhibit. I'd been hearing about the project for months through a couple of my clients... some of whom *donated* their face for a mask... of the 60 masks, this was the only one I thought looked familiar.

;-)

Were you aware of anything happening in your community today to commemorate World AIDS Day?

A video about the project is available on YouTube by clicking here.

Eagles at Conowingo

2009-11-30T23:10:00.000-05:00

I DID NOT TAKE THIS PHOTO!

(pretend to be surprised)

A couple times MevetS walked away

left me to *guard* his camera

let me click the shutter

maybe feel like *one of them*

the people with proper camera equipment

gathered there like paparazzi

(this is only a portion of their number)

I like crooked horizons, btw

so there!

Distorted like the sight of tens of eagles

(closer to hundreds, almost)

soaring over abandoned car parts

and bits of garbage washed ashore

at the foot of a dam

fishing among fishermen

and stray cats

scavenging for prey

looking for life to take

and unequivocally overlooking us

to their honor

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I mean to make some point, but don't have the patience with myself tonight to actually get there.

;-)

I'm pretty convinced the Conowingo Dam in Maryland is THE place to go on the East Coast to see bald eagles in winter.

It's spectacular! Go there!

(bring your long lens, though)

I've never seen so many eagles at one time, in so many plumages... juvenile eagles are gorgeous!

The setting doesn't befit them, but still it manages to be memorable and goosebump-making.

I'll remember the people there with me and the sound of their cameras (hundreds of shutters clicking at once like the sound I imagine on the red carpet at a movie premiere) and feeling very, very lucky to have the chance to witness such a thing.

Go!

Shadow shot

2009-11-29T20:57:00.000-05:00

Someone needs to go on a diet.

;-)

2/100

2009-11-28T23:19:00.005-05:00

This is Otis... he's a photographer from Virginia. We met today at the Conowingo Dam in Maryland where we were both photographing the bald eagles that congregate there in the winter.

Truth be told, with my little lens, I was mostly photographing the other people that were photographing the eagles...

Talk about camera envy!

I hesitate to call anyone I met today a stranger... there's a certain camaraderie that exists naturally among birders and others who enjoy the outdoors. I do know, however, that many of us prefer to remain behind the lens. Otis was an exception to that and I was glad for his smile (and to know that much of his set-up, intimidating as it looks, is homemade and affordable.)

More about the eagles in another post.

This photo is #2 in my 100 strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at Flickr 100 Strangers or www.100Strangers.com

Skywatch Friday: A Poet's Bridge

2009-11-27T01:21:00.000-05:00

Clouds and the vast marshes that surround the Sidney Lanier Bridge near Jekyll Island, GA.

Visit here for more Skywatch Friday posts.

Praise and thanksgiving

2009-11-25T21:17:00.000-05:00

"Praise the light of late November,

the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.

Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;

though they are clothed in night, they do not despair.

Praise what little there's left:

the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,

shells, the architecture of trees.

Praise the meadow of dried weeds:

yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,

the remains of summer.

Praise the blue sky that hasn't cracked.

Praise the sun slipping down behind the beechnuts,

praise the quilt of leaves that covers the grass:

Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum, Sugar Maple.

Though darkness gathers,

praise our crazy fallen world;

it's all we have, and it's never enough."

Barbara Crooker - Radiance

The king is dead* and the chessboard reshuffles uncomfortably

2009-11-24T21:34:00.004-05:00

Dear Powers-That-Be,

First off, can you just concentrate your energies on leaving well-enough alone, please?

You know, like, if it ain't broke, don't fix it?

We'd been at it this way for many, many years before you found yourself promoted and will be left with the legacy of your poor decisions for many, many years after you retire.

(We all might sympathize with your unspoken desire to leave some mark before you fade away into the sunset, but screwing around with a unit that for years has been a *high performer* makes no sense. We're not doing it wrong, for godsakes!)

Secondly, if you must insist on change for its own sake, please respect us enough to ask for our input. We and our clients will be directly affected by your penny-wise and pound-foolish decisions.

And if you think, as you seem to, that our clients don't need the direct, hands-on services of a social worker, well... it's been entirely too long since you've done fieldwork yourself.

Spend an afternoon with one of us on Bangs Avenue, dodging stray pit-bulls and drive-bys and the young mom who finally finished school and wants to work at home as a daycare provider. The state won't certify her there, though, (all those bullet holes in the siding) and she's got no money to move with. Plus there's her severely handicapped son who gets excellent services in his current school district.

Or on Springwood with the elderly lady who's days away from being put out of her house because a bank foreclosed on her landlord. She's got nowhere to go and I needed the time this week to wheel and deal with the bank to get her a cash-for-keys offer so she'll have money for a security deposit on a new place.

Instead you sent me to training to learn to do my secretary's job.

(As if I have the time to wear any more *hats*.)

Maybe sit at my desk for a day and explain to any one of my mentally-ill AND chemically-dependent clients (who call at least once a day, by the way) why I can't be there to help solve their current life-crisis-of-the-day because I'm too busy filing and making photocopies of contracts and chasing down repayment agreements because you insisted we don't need a secretary to do those things.

Oh and Mr. G. is off his meds again and dumpster-diving for leftovers. Maybe his Food Stamp worker will handle that.

(If building management doesn't evict him first for being a nuisance.)

You can't insist that we're doing a good job and then assiduously go about dismantling us.

(Jeesh!)

Please don't insult us or our clerical staff by acting as if we're all interchangeable and replaceable. I know as much about bookkeeping as Louise knows about social work.

(I take that back. Louise could do my job in a minute, but you'd have to pay her a lot more than you do now.)

Lastly, don't you dare mess with our Christmas Party.

Sincerely,

A chessman; a mere cog in the wheel

*Phil is fine. The rest of us, without him, well...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tuesday staff meetings do this to me. I apologize.

A Boomer and Cricket favorite

2009-11-23T20:55:00.001-05:00

"No, we're not interested in a subscription to Cat Fancy magazine. Now get off our porch."

;-)

Boomer and Cricket snuggling sometime in 2006. I'm looking through favorite photos... remembering bunnies from the past... planning to share for the next couple days.

Shades of brown

2009-11-22T20:11:00.001-05:00

Couch with bunny to match
;-)

1/100

2009-11-21T19:55:00.004-05:00

"Hi. I'm Laura. Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure. What?"

This photograph was the favor I'd asked.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I love people-watching. It's easy.

Approaching a stranger to ask for their photo is not.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'd been pacing up and down the boardwalk for nearly an hour, trying to get up the nerve to approach someone and ask. That in itself was a fun exercise... looking into people's faces for something interesting... imagining the stories one might tell if I worked up the courage to talk to them.

Most wouldn't even make eye contact.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He'd said no the first time I asked. I smiled and thanked him, but didn't back away. We talked for a bit and eventually, I asked again. He agreed, reluctantly, wanting to remain anonymous. He relaxed enough to tell me about his street art; after thirty minutes or so I felt okay about taking out my camera. He never once froze, or smiled stiffly at me, or stopped talking. It felt kinda like magic, this thing that my camera let happen...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
How would you feel if a stranger approached you for a photo? What might make it enjoyable for you, or not?

So tell me... could you do it? Does the thought of photographing 100 strangers terrify you the way it does me?

It scares me. A lot. I'm shy! That's kinda how I know it's the right thing to do, the right direction to head in to stretch myself in unpredictable and meaningful ways. Once a week I'll try it. It's about photo-making yes, but more about stepping outside my own box and what feels comfortable to me. Maybe I'll get a good photo once in a while. Certainly I'll meet some interesting people who I never would otherwise. A camera is as good an excuse as any, I think.

Don't panic!

2009-11-19T20:01:00.002-05:00

Probably I'll decide I hate it, too

This blog turned 4 this month

Change rejuvenates

I hope

Wordless Wednesday

2009-11-18T20:01:00.000-05:00

Wordless, but by no means quiet.

;-)

Song of the wave

2009-11-16T21:15:00.000-05:00

I'm about climbing the walls with it getting dark so early and having so little time outdoors most days.

I'm so bored I'm actually cooking!

;-)

And I'm reading some, which is nice to have the time for again. This evening I re-read my tattered copy of Khalil Gibran's The Prophet... which I first read back in high school. There's an essay of his about gardening that I've been searching for, and haven't yet found, but I did come across this beautiful poem by him online and thought I'd share it...

The strong shore is my beloved
And I am his sweetheart.
We are at last united by love, and
Then the moon draws me from him.
I go to him in haste and depart
Reluctantly, with many
Little farewells.

I steal swiftly from behind the
Blue horizon to cast the silver of
My foam upon the gold of his sand, and
We blend in melted brilliance.

I quench his thirst and submerge his
Heart; he softens my voice and subdues
My temper.
At dawn I recite the rules of love upon
His ears, and he embraces me longingly.

At eventide I sing to him the song of
Hope, and then print smooth hisses upon
His face; I am swift and fearful, but he
Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. His
Broad bosom soothes my restlessness.

As the tide comes we caress each other,
When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in
Prayer.

Many times have I danced around mermaids
As they rose from the depths and rested
Upon my crest to watch the stars;
Many times have I heard lovers complain
Of their smallness, and I helped them to sigh.

Many times have I teased the great rocks
And fondled them with a smile, but never
Have I received laughter from them;
Many times have I lifted drowning souls
And carried them tenderly to my beloved
Shore. He gives them strength as he
Takes mine.

Many times have I stolen gems from the
Depths and presented them to my beloved
Shore. He takes them in silence, but still
I give fro he welcomes me ever.

In the heaviness of night, when all
Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I
Sit up, singing at one time and sighing
At another. I am awake always.

Alas! Sleeplessness has weakened me!
But I am a lover, and the truth of love
Is strong.
I may be weary, but I shall never die.

--Khalil Gibran

There's something that happens about midway through this poem that causes me to laugh quietly... I'm not really sure what it is, but I love the smile it brings to my face.

A limerick

2009-11-15T19:01:00.001-05:00

A wonderful bird is the pelican
His bill will hold more than his belican
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week
But I’m damned if I see how the helican

Can anyone see these birds and not smile?

Washing machine

2009-11-14T18:01:00.000-05:00

Looking south from the Ocean Grove fishing pier

I was out this afternoon with my camera and all the other Looky-Lous to see what sort of havoc this week's nor'easter had wrought... the sea's still really angry-looking, but finally the wind's stopped howling.

End of weather report.

;-)

To a sanderling

2009-11-12T23:02:00.001-05:00

by way of explanation...

You're inescapable here

water comes and goes

hisses like fat

you run straight through it

(mostly ahead)

watching your toes

or the grains of sand that fall between

I love your frantic grace

your controlled panic

That you take the roaring alongside for granted

as if the world

is bound to shake every so often

Your world shimmers

is minute

and vast

your beak focused

preoccupied

looking for something, something, something

a single-minded obsession

(You're mine.)

OK... fess up! What common birds do you obsess over?

(I also have a thing for skimmers and blue jays. And all manner of ducks.)

;-)

Comfort food

2009-11-11T23:01:00.000-05:00

There's nothing better on a blistery autumn day than a properly made pot pie.

(or a woolly bear caterpillar)

;-)

Common folklore says the severity of the coming winter can be predicted by the amount of black on a woolly bear. It's believed that if a woolly bear caterpillar's brown stripe is thick, the winter weather will be mild and if narrow, the winter will be severe.

I'm guessing none of that mattered to the mantis.

(Click on the pic for a better view of the gory details)

Sanderling

2009-11-10T22:34:00.000-05:00

Yes... I'm still adding to my collection of sanderling shots.

(They're to me like shoes are to other women, in that one can never have too many!)

My camera's CF card's gone wonky... this always happens... anyone have a guess why?

How to photograph a tern

2009-11-03T20:35:00.008-05:00

First find a marshy place

with a dock.

Around the dock, look for some comfortable pilings

where the bird might like to perch.

Then, on the pilings, photograph something for the tern

something beautiful and strange that will make it feel at home.

(I found a couple pelicans.)

Then wait with your camera.

Don't speak.

Don't move.

(Hide behind a piling if you have to.)

Sometimes a tern will come quickly

but it can just as well take hours.

Don't be discouraged if one doesn't come right away

wait.

Wait years if necessary

it doesn't mean that your photo won't be good.

When the bird comes

if it comes,

remain absolutely silent.

Wait until the bird poses for you

then quietly take frame after frame.

Move closer if you like.

Try not to cut off its tail feathers.

If you get too distracted or excited

and forget to show the best angle on the bird

or have too much pelican in the background

don't worry.

(You can fix most anything in PhotoShop later.)

Just photograph the bird

with the prettiest splash of blue for a background

or green if that's what you prefer

and remember to have fun.

Photograph the summer breeze, too

and the smell of the sunshine and the ruckus of the boat-tailed grackles.

Then wait for your bird to sing.

(With terns this is an optional step, of course.)

If it doesn't sing, don't be sad.

You did your best.

But if the bird sings,

it's a very good sign.

(Terns seem to spend a lot of time looking at their toes when they should instead be singing.)

It helps to have a great lens when taking photos of birds.

It also helps to have a friend willing to loan you such a lens

be warned tho

you'll want your own.

Santa

are you listening?

;-)

Too easily forgotten

2009-11-02T19:31:00.000-05:00

A lecture and slide presentation yesterday sponsored by SHBO on NJ's native orchids has me reviewing photos from this place and drooling with the memory of it.

One problem with waiting forever to process photos is the forgetting of details that happens in between.

;-)

I've all these photos of drop-dead-gorgeous flowers and can hardly remember the name of one of them!

I'm thinking this one is Ragged Fringed Orchid, as the deeply fringed petals make the flower look pretty tattered.

Am I right? Anyone know? Jim?

Boo!

2009-10-31T23:59:00.000-05:00

Some of the scary people I work with...

Best costume I saw this year was the Gorton's Fisherman, right down to the hairy chest and plastic shark.

What about you?

A promise kept

2009-10-28T23:07:00.000-05:00

Boomer, my heart-bunny

2003 - 10/28/09

In my most pragmatic moments, I think of the Dickens quote: "Life is made up of a series of meetings and partings," and try to convince myself that this is, indeed, the way of it and that mourning and memory are the mirror-twins of joy and experience. The latter cannot exist without the former, because otherwise life would be featureless and flat; either constant valley or relentless plateau.

Each bunny brings its own heartbreak, be it with their coming or their going.

Despite his sad start, Boomer came to live an enviable life among bunnies and he lived it well, I think. He was the beloved of two beautiful Flemish-bunny girls in his lifetime and enjoyed many hours napping in the sunshine. He loved a warm bed and a soft pillow. He was easy in the way only a Flemmie can be: gentle, big-hearted, all feet and big ears.

The vacuum and the roar of a lawn mower were the only things to bring out any memory of fear in him.

"You're safe, Boomer. You're home."

And that was enough, whispered time and again into those sweet velvet ears, to calm him. My secret promise; a reminder for us both.

There's some part of me that's in tune with bunnies; that sings in the same key with them. Others don't get it; they might love cats or dogs or iguanas, but the love of a bunny is different, somehow. It touches some other place; a place that seeks to protect them in their peculiar frailties, as much as it delights in their boundless joy.

The love of a bunny is different.

And the heartbreak is different too, somehow.