Beyond this open door, the world beckons. "Come out", it says. Commands. Pleads. Still, I am hesitant to obey. There is comfort in this home. This inner world is safe and comfortable.
Or maybe, I just forgot to shut the door and the breeze is flowing in.
There is one in every flock that I have been a part of. The black sheep. The one that is the bad boy. The flaunter of rules. The one that walks their own road. In nature, the black sheep is the result of a genetic mutation. In our own species, they seem to be the result of the nurture verses nature conundrum.
All that I know is that I have always in some way admired the black sheep for their ability to be true to themselves. Assuming they don't break laws or hurt others, I am just fine with black sheep. As a matter of fact, I think I married a black sheep. I'll have to give that one some more thought. Hmmm… I think I'll just ask.
Me: Jodi, are you a black sheep?
Jodi: Babe, I am anything you want me to be. Are you going to hand me my coke or just stand there?
Me: If you are not a black sheep, then what are you?
Jodi: Pretty.
This past weekend, I had the chance to speak at length with a remarkable woman named Elizabeth, a volunteer at Carriage Hill Farm. I want to say young girl or young lady, but Elizabeth showed such poise, intelligence, and maturity that I found her age to be completely immaterial. I think my mother would say that Elizabeth seemed to have an "old soul". Still, there is no denying her youth.
As I get older, I am sometimes presented with "opportunities" to feel my age. When in the presence of young adults, in their physical prime, full of hopes, plans, and wide open potential, the difference in age between us is difficult to ignore.
Don't think that I look at these remarkable young people with envy. I can remember the tough choices, and challenges that life inevitably throws in the way of each of us. They will change as life molds them. Sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. Some will be blown about, struggling to find a path forward while others will stick to their goals with tenacity.
So, I take these "opportunities" as they present themselves. Invariably, I think about my own life. The choices that I made. The times I was blown about and the times that I forged my own path. I like the person that I have become. I like the happiness that I enjoy. The home that is filled with laughter. My family. My friends. My wonderful wife.
In many ways, I am more creative than ever. I am comfortable in my own skin. Something that I never experienced when I was young. Middle age seems to have a lot of advantages of its own. Yes my joints sometimes ache and my feet pop when I get up in the morning, but those are small complaints.
Maybe, there is such a thing as "flush of life". And just maybe, there is no age limit to the flush of life.
It seems as though the author, who penned this graffiti, was suffering from a lack of conviction. Why the great perhaps? Such an interesting choice of words. Was he going to his death? To a job interview? Maybe he was going to a dentists appointment? Could he have been voicing his philosophy of how he lived his life? Perhaps…I don't know. What do you think?
I came across this rusty door knob on a recent photo walk in downtown Springfield, OH. I liked the texture on the knob and took the picture. Now all of you are looking at a black and white photo of a rusty door knob. All because I liked the door knob.
Now, you are beginning to see the power and influence of the photographer.
As many of you are aware, I have been struggling a bit lately. Trying to find a direction for my photography. In some ways, I feel as though I've lost my photo mojo for the moment. So, I am going to try a little experimenting. This will be an attempt to rediscover what I enjoy about photography and have some fun with it.
A prime example is this image that I took yesterday morning on the way to work. The first twenty minutes of my drive winds through local farm country and, at this time of the year, I catch the light just prior to the sun's rise. When I saw this scene, I was struck by the saturated colors that looked as though they had come from the brush of Maxfield Parish, the American painter from the last century. I share a fondness with his work with my sister. She has often displayed prints of his work on her walls. This image is no Maxfield Parish and is not even similar to his work. However, his colors inspired my take on the scene. You just never know where inspiration will come from. Maybe that's why it is inspiring.
As part of my work flow, I often switch to black and white to get a good look at the tones. I find that the colors can sometimes be distracting and seeing the image in black and white helps me during the process. While, I have no intention of using the image in black and white, I thought it was interesting and that you might like seeing the converted image as well.
Have a fantastic Friday folks.
Life Drawing at The Book Club from Wriggles & Robins on Vimeo.
Just how cool is that video? It’s little gems like this that I use to justify my hours of surfing. Seriously!
Sometimes my simplest photographs are my favorites. A simple straight forward subject combined with soft natural light is the way I like to go whenever possible. Such are my feelings about this image of period clothes hanging in a closet. I know this image is no form of high art in photography. It's not even framed particularly well. It's just simple and I just like it. That's all.
My cats love windows and they like that spot on the floor created by sunshine coming through the windows. This makes them normal cats. And to tell you the truth, I think that if I were a cat, I'd like that spot on the floor as well. The problem is that as the sun moves, so does that spot. I would have to constantly get up and move to the new spot. Because, well you know, I would be a big cat and I wouldn't have much spot to spare. Just saying.
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In my last post, I complained about the amount of snow we had gotten. In this post, I will brag about how beautiful the snow we had gotten looks. You see, this is part of snow's mystique. I hate shoveling it and I hate driving in it, but I love looking at it. I am a man after all and this is generally how we feel about snow. See, I just used the word "feel", so I must not be that bad. I am in touch with my feelings and I am only just a little uncomfortable.
As you can see, snow is rather pretty. Especially this type of heavy wet snow. It piles up on top of everything. My friend Pati is from The Dakota Territories and pines for the snow when we don't get it. I think I saw her making snow angels in the parking lot at work when I arrived. That woman is not right in the head. That, in turn, is part of the reason we are friends.
Wednesday evening, on my way home from work, I came across these scenes at Leffels Creek, in my home town of Springfield, Ohio. I thought you might like to see them. Escpecially friends from sub-tropical Australia. You might have monsoon rains, but for good or bad, we have snow.
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