There Is Always Beauty

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In the first blog post I created back in 2007 I wrote about the four seasons of the Inland Empire. When I was younger I always dreaded this end-of- winter- almost- spring time of year. Polluted smoke from the Bunker Hill smelter filled the already gray skies with a thicker gray and a dismal pallor hung over the skies of the Kellogg and the surrounding valley. The snow was dirtied by the slag used to give cars more traction. The sun didn't shine very often.

 I can't conjure up memories of anything beautiful this time of year from my youth. What I do remember as we marched slowly into a late spring was the absence of outside Easter egg hunts, white patent leather shoes covered with mud walking to church on Easter, and freezing weather the time our high school youth group organized an outdoor sunrise service. However I do recall the sweet smell of a blooming Easter Lily with a pot wrapped in pink foil and tied in a pastel bow.

 I paid attention when the lilacs bloomed in May, when we headed to Blum's greenhouse to get pansies and petunias, and the sight of Grandma's snowball bush blooming in her front yard in Spokane. I am sure there were other signs of spring before May, but I just didn't notice.

Now I notice the beauty of all four seasons each day. One reason is that I carry my camera wherever I go and have a visual history of the seasons in the Inland Empire. Another reason is that I try to be present and find beauty in every weather during every season. Today when I trudged through the mud in the driveway I looked at the beauty of the setting sun. The reflection of the frozen snow made me forget the broken branches and dead leaves waiting to be cleaned up in the flower bed by the front walk.

 I will notice beauty tomorrow also and the day after. I don't need a crocus blooming or forsythia buds swelling on the branch to have something to photograph. Tomorrow it may be the bare branches of the fruit trees awaiting spring. What I know for sure is I will have a record of it.
  You can find that first blog post here.

Faceless Portraits Part 2

 

  I am still experimenting with Faceless Portraits, but this series has a focus below the waist. It was interesting what my camera captured today as I roamed around my classroom while students were taking a test.

 

At home I continue to capture faceless portraits.

Blog Anniversary #4

On February 17, 2007 I did my first post on this blog. I created a post about the four seasons of the Inland Empire. After that first post I never looked back. I have now posted 1,451 posts and the posts  have varied from memoir pieces, recipes, sibling assignments, photos, gardening tips, poetry, life around our place, road trips around northeastern Washington state,our pets, family, and lots of lots of bouquets. Here are some favorite photos.

Kit right after he arrived to our house.

Kellogg High School

ice on the greenhouse window

plant starts in the greenhouse window

Annie: My Own Brown Eyes

BROWN EYES

In early youth I made a vow
That if to Cupid I should bow,
The one for whom he aimed the dart
At my desired, unclaimed heart,
Must have brown eyes; large, soft brown eyes.

Time came when eyes looked into mine;
Large, soft brown eyes that seemed to shine
With intellect. Did I succumb?
Oh yes! for though the lips were dumb,
Those lovely eyes I deemed a prize.

Within their depths devotion shone,
And as they gazed into my own,
They seemed to say, "My love is thine.
Please let me know that I have thine."
And Oh! I knew his heart was true.

My arms his snowy neck entwined,
And I rejoiced a love to find
So worshipful, so constant, true.
How oft they've thrilled me through and through,
My collie's wise, large, soft brown eyes!

by Mrs.S.L.Dempsey 

 ( although mine is a springer spaniel, I still love the poem)

Found Art: Hearts

 As I toured around with my camera yesterday I searched for hearts and created a few new ones also.

 Happy Valentine's Day early!

Valentine for Ernest Mann

 You can't order a poem like you order a taco.
Walk up to the counter, say, "I'll take two"
and expect it to be handed back to you
on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.
Anyone who says, "Here's my address,
write me a poem," deserves something in reply.
 
 

So I'll tell you a secret instead:
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping. They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings the moment
before we wake up. What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife
two skunks for a valentine.
He couldn't understand why she was crying.
"I thought they had such beautiful eyes."
And he was serious. He was a serious man
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly
just because the world said so. He really
liked those skunks. So, he reinvented them
as valentines and they became beautiful.
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding
in the eyes of the skunks for centuries
crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we reinvent whatever our lives give us
we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite.
And let me know.

- Naomi Shihab Nye
  in The Red Suitcase, Brockport, NY: BOA Editions, 1994.