It's my birthday! I'm having a party!

She’s one! And what a lot she has accomplished! She has learned to walk and copy sounds. She’s grown some teeth, and she holds her own with all the big boys around.  In fact, she has charmed the socks off of them. And all of us!

She walks, and talks, and says Mama.

William thinks she is the cutest, funniest little thing he’s ever seen. Better than a puppy. Better than Legos. Better than Poptropica. From the look of things, she feels the same about him.

In good hands.

The photographer's assistant.

In hysterics watching Celeste eat her birthday cake, and egging her on to make an even bigger mess.

And laughing with good reason.

The beginning of the mess.

The other boys are more interested in TV than watching Celeste adorn herself with chocolate.

It gets worse.

The festivities will be interrupted while the life of the party heads to the bathtub.

Chocolate is good for what ails you.

Happy birthday, A-less’, as the little boys call you. YOU are good for anything that ails anyone!

If I do not do it, then who will?

It has come to my attention that my son-in-law has written a letter to the editor that appears in the 12/09/09 Nashville Scene. His letter was in response to a December  article on buildings of historic significance in Nashville that are going to be lost through lack of concern and neglect.

I’ve included the link above, but here is the letter quoted:

I just read Lyda Phillips’ article and was moved to respond (“Our City in Ruins,” Dec. 3). I am a local roofing contractor and have been on or around many of the buildings highlighted in the article. While I am very excited abut the new convention center, which is proposed to have one of the largest “green” roofs in the country, I am very concerned about our lack of respect for the past.  Why can’t we honor our history while stepping into the future?  I believe it is up to us as a community to change the attitudes and laws concerning historic structures. We all must get  involved!

With that being said, I am willing to donate my company’s time and resources to help stabilize any of the roofs mentioned in your story. I know this is not the answer, but maybe it’s a start.  Thanks for moving me!

Please forward this letter to the appropriate people. I will also move forward in contacting them on my own.

Houston Herbert, R.D.Herbert and Sons Co., Nashville

He has issued a challenge to all of us by his example. It’s not so easy to whine and say you care, but just don’t know what you could possibly do, when you have someone in front of you who also cares, and who has stepped forward to offer what he has. Not all of us have the ability to offer something as significant as Houston, but I bet we all have something. I have a camera, and I can take pictures of the buildings involved and post them here. Such a small contribution, but add all the contributions together if each of us gets involved, and Nashville certainly will not be a city in ruins. Attitudes and laws concerning historic structures will be changed. I’m ashamed to say I don’t even know where most of the buildings on the list are, and I’ve always professed to care about architectural history! Thanks for waking me up! I seem to have the first attitude that needs to be changed! Many of Nashville’s architectural treasures were lost precisely because the citizens didn’t know what was happening. Thanks to the Scene for trying to make us aware before it’s too late.

I am so proud of my son-in-law. Nashville stands to keep something irreplaceable because of his generous offer, and by his example he is showing his children, and all of us, how to be responsible, creative, generous and civic minded participants in preserving our city’s history at the same time that we move into the future.

Dinosaur cake by Sweet Sixteen

It has been the year of the dinosaur for Karsten. Doesn’t every child go through a dinosaur obsession? He was a ‘nice’ dinosaur for Halloween,  he wanted a dinosaur birthday party when he turned three in September, and he can be seen most of the time carrying a dinosaur around in his hand. This is a blog post about his three year dinosaur birthday party, a little late. My delay has nothing to do with the fact that we celebrated in style. It’s just that I want to write about Celeste’s one year November birthday before 2009 is up, and when that’s done, I will have recorded the birthday parties for every grandchild but Karsten! That will not do!

The fact is, I made a poor photographic equipment choice, and my pictures of Karsten’s dinosaur party at Mafiaoza’s Pizza are not up to standards. In an effort to keep things simple, I decided to take only one lens to the restaurant. Carrying too much equipment around is a drag, but not nearly as frustrating as having only one lens that is not appropriate for the conditions. The light 50mm prime lens, great as it is for portraits and for keeping things simple, is not the lens you want when you are seated at a table by a window with the late afternoon sun streaming in, and  you have no room to get up and  move back to get everyone in a picture without glare.  You cannot coax a prime lens into being a zoom. I tried it a hundred times at Karsten’s party.

William sitting by the window.

I will have to do the best I can with what I’ve got. The children get a kick out of seeing themselves in my posts, and a major reason for writing this blog is to create a record of events that they will enjoy as they grow. Leaving out Karsten’s three year old dinosaur party is not an option.

All shopping for this birthday party could be done at the dinosaur store!

William and Walker help Karsten unwrap his presents.

At Mafiaoza's they give the children dough to play with while they're waiting for their pizza. Great fun. Really messy.

If you are given dough at a dinosaur pizza party, what is the logical thing to do with it?

You wrap your dinosaurs in the dough, of course.

Feeding time at Jurassic Park

Mom

Dad

Usable photos. But, oh, the ones that got away! Karsten was unconcerned about my camera problems. But, when he’s eight, or ten, will he ask me why there are so few pictures of his third birthday party? I’ll just have to tell him that they became extinct.

Gingerbread House, 2008

Last night was the night to build the gingerbread house for 2009. Actually we needed to build two, one for William and Walker’s house, and one for Karsten’s.

The house above is the one William and I put together last year. I dressed the photo up a little by using Flaming Pear’s Flexify Mirror Ball. I love this effect. It looks like it could be a tree ornament.

This year the other two little boys are old enough to participate, so I baked a casserole of lasagna, so we could be fortified for the task, and  invited the whole gang to come over to participate, or just to observe construction. Next year I think the three little boys and I can handle it on our own, but this year I wanted help available, to minimize the chance that grandma would be run over by a gingerbread house! It’s not easy to concentrate on spreading icing while six little hands are trying to stick gumdrops in it at the same time. I made a rule that no architectural detailing could be eaten until everything was finished. I didn’t expect that rule to carry any weight, but, surprisingly, it did! No one wanted to run out of construction materials.

I think the boys loved it. I was a little busy trying to sprout eight arms to keep up with their six, but I was aware that there was a lot of laughing, singing of Christmas songs (Walker has an amazing repertoire), and being silly.  I was happily amazed at how well they worked together, and not one of them fell off a chair or the counter.

Construction gets underway.

Trying to keep the icing flowing fast enough for the boys to add candy.

Ready to put candy in the icing the second it's applied!

Walker might be destined to be a codes inspector.

Karsten has an eye transplant.

William thinks Karsten had a great idea.

Quitting time! Walker gets ready to go home, wearing his great new hat!

Gingerbread House, 2009

Sampson May 1996 - December 2009

We know that anything with chocolate in it’s name must be sweet, good enough to eat right up, and produce an instant feeling of happiness and well being. Sammy, the big Chocolate Lab, did that for his whole life. He was even-tempered, accommodating, and serene, not counting the first year of his life when he was a bit of a wild child.

I remember thinking during that first year that my son-in-law and Sammy were not going to make it as a twosome. Sammy was a remarkable chewer and digger in his youth. He specialized in yard equipment. He ate a fence, various pieces of lawn furniture, a downspout and even his own doghouse. The tale is told that he consumed a Cracker Barrel style rocking chair right down to the last splinter.

I hate to make a big point of Sammy’s early delinquency, since he turned into such a good boy. The bond between man and beast was never really in danger. My son-in law demonstrated over and over his willingness to go to almost any length for Sammy’s comfort and well-being. Sammy, for his part, rewarded his person with obvious affection and loyalty.  There was nothing Houston could do that would not receive Sam’s total approval. Not even the doghouse weatherizing episode!

Since Sammy chewed everything, he was not allowed in the house. When it got to be winter, Houston worried about him being cold, and so he began to turn Sam’s doghouse into a totally warm, airtight space. First a shingle roof, because, above all, you need a roof. Then insulation, and a heat lamp walled off with breeko blocks (the world outside of Tennessee would call these cement blocks). Finally, a plastic flap was installed over the door. I suppose Sammy could have just chewed up all of these improvements, but it was so hot, and so wet from the built-up condensation raining inside, that Sammy wouldn’t go in. He just sat outside the doghouse and gave Houston the same approving looks as usual, probably waiting for him to fix whatever had happened to turn his home into a hellhole.

It’s very sweet, and sad, that in the last week of Sammy’s life the two of them had another doghouse episode. Sammy, who had been the king of the porch for many years, was able to keep track of the comings and goings of the family and the neighborhood from his Dogloo situated there. It was like an efficiency apartment for him with everything he needed within his reach. Ramps had even been installed so as Sammy aged, so he could get to the yard. Lately Houston observed that Sammy couldn’t turn around anymore in his Dogloo. Soon there appeared two new possibilities for assisted living, a crate and a bigger doghouse. Sammy gave Houston the same approving looks as usual, but said he really liked his Dogloo best. So Houston took a saw to the Dogloo and cut the top off so Sam could get in it and turn around.

Sammy had many health issues in his later years, including chronic skin problems, and once a spinal problem serious enough to take him to Knoxville to the UT Veterinary Hospital for treatment. Houston came through for Sam on that occasion, too, as he had on so many others. The skin  problem was chronic and irritating, but not life threatening. Houston, nevertheless, thought maybe a food supplement would help him, and found something at Petsmart. He thought the bottle was awfully small, but proceeded anyway to give Sammy a bath in it. It seemed sticky and wasn’t sudsy, but if there was a possiblity that it would help Sam’s skin, it was worth a try. Janet, our veterinarian, had just become a part of our family about the time that Houston gave Sammy the bath in the food supplement. Houston enjoyed the joke on himself, but Janet laughed so hard she cried. I don’t know if putting the food supplement in Sam’s actual food was ever tried. The food supplement bath, however, was useless.

Sammy had a well established place in my son-in-law’s heart and household long before William and Walker were born. There was no jealousy. He welcomed the babies with the same overflowing spirit that he exhibited for all good things, like running loose at Rock Island, and riding in the back of the truck. If I never wrote one word about Sammy, I think this picture that Houston took of William and Sammy in the boat would tell it all.

William and Sammy, best buddies.

William is now six.  He’s very emotional about Sammy’s passing, but he’s learned a lot about life from it. He was overheard describing the cycle of life to his three year old cousin, and he has put Sam’s dog tag on a little keychain he carries around. Houston made William a book with pictures of  William and Sammy together.  Six year olds have deep thoughts about life and death. Three year olds, not so much. Walker overheard Houston tell William that Sammy was going to Heaven, and Walker thought he said Sammy was going to see Kevin, and got all excited.  Kevin, as in Kevin the bird, in “Up”!   William had been very sad , but even he had to laugh at that, even though William tells us all the time that Walker isn’t as hilarious as we think he is.

Sammy & William, cruisin' down the river.

Sammy keeping track of all things happening on his porch.

Sammy meets Jelly the French Bulldog. "What is this thing?"

It has been a tough year for our pets. Janet’s Pokey, our Josie, and now Sammy are gone. I think they left us better people for having loved and cared for them.

On the road again

It isn’t true that you can’t go home again.

In the forty-one years since we moved to Tennessee, we have been back to Ann Arbor an average of three times per year, which makes one hundred and twenty-three times we have gone home. We have driven through the night, through fog, through storms, and Michigan being where it is, through snow. Lots of it. We’ve taken our children as babies and teenagers, and now we are taking our grandchildren. We’ve been for Christmas, birthdays, football games, funerals, on our way to or from vacations, and just because. During these nine hour driving marathons I have read, played car games with children, knitted, held dogs or cats on my lap, listened to music, slept, and sometimes I have even driven.

In October my husband and I drove to Michigan, the third trip for 2009. We had a great time, and the fall colors were at their peak. At the end of our visit, we packed the night before in order to leave very early in the morning to return to Tennessee. No kids or animals in the car, no snow, no fog, no threats of storms, not even any construction in Dayton. I decided to occupy my time by taking pictures of the landscape as we passed. At first thought, this may seem fairly simple. You sit in one place, and the scenery comes to you. Because it is passing you at 70 MPH, however, you have to be alert, and be ready to act fast!  Smashing the camera against the window as you try to pan without blurring, gets old faster than the landscape whizzing past you. The driver gets irritated when you try to take a picture on the left side of the road, or when you tell him to hurry and pass that eighteen wheeler that’s blocking your view on the right. Bumps on the road cause the camera to do an erratic little dance, and some part of the car seems to be in the way of every picture you try to take.  It’s a good thing that I love in-camera motion blur. I got my fill between Ann Arbor and Nashville!

Sunrise - south of Maumee, Ohio

I said we left early, and I meant it. We were already in Ohio when the sun came up. If I’d still been in bed, I would have missed this spectacular show!

Ohio farm

There aren’t a lot of hills in Ohio to block my view. I wonder if the people on this farm have finished their morning chores. Are they eating breakfast? Getting ready for church? I’m sure they could not imagine that someone in a passing car had just taken a picture of their lovely farm and field, with that deep blue early morning sky above them.

Trees dressed in yellow and orange

You can’t hold on to the beauty of fall when  you’re standing still. It’s even more fleeting when you pass it at seventy MPH.

Ohio field

The colors are beautiful, and I’m taking them home in my camera!

Ohio farm pond

I’m glad the furrows are distinct. I’m not sure how it happened, but I did have the camera on multiple shot and took several as we passed, hoping to get one where the rows were leading the eye straight to the pond. I can trash the discards later. No penalty.

Ohio barn

Someone told this farmer to shout his religion from the rooftop. And, he did!

A very weird juxtaposition of signs in Lima, Ohio

Mr. McGuire to Benjamin Braddock, “I want to say one word to you. Just one word.”

Another Ohio farm

It’s post card perfect, even at a 70 MPH blur.

Another Ohio barn

I cracked the car window pretty hard with the lens hood trying to get into position to take this one in time!

Birds in flight

It’s my turn to drive. What if I miss a picture as great as this?  I know better than to text and drive, but what if I had the camera set and just lifted it with one hand in the general direction, and snapped really fast? I might get a passable motion blur, at least. Just kidding.  Ha, ha.

The bridge over the Ohio in Cincinnati

Cincinnati! Half way home, and it isn’t even lunch time yet.

Beautiful Ohio, In dreams I dream of you

Time to sing Beautiful Ohio!

Florence, Y'all

OK, now I’ll drive. I’ve got the Florence, KY water tower. Stop at that last rest stop before we turn onto I-71 to Louisville and we can switch.

Rest stop trees in Kentucky.

Wow. These trees were all over the grounds of the rest stop. It was nice to take a picture while I, and the trees, were standing still. I didn’t have my land legs back, however, and this was a little out of focus. I used the Topaz Simplify filter to even out the color.  It works for me.

Home again

I drove until we were almost to Nashville, so there are no more pictures except for this capture of our beautiful city, which was like aiming for a keyhole when the bridge over the Cumberland opened up a view. So what if it’s out of focus? Think of the skill involved in avoiding the drivers’ head as I shot this out of the left side of the car from the right hand seat.

We’re going back to Michigan in a few weeks. The gorgeous fall colors will be gone, but I’ll still have my camera ready. I can take a picture of Nashville as we leave the city this time. And, I really want a shot of dinosaur world in Kentucky!

Veterans' Day, 2009

Veterans’ Day was a week ago. My husband must have been savoring the touching expression of thanks that he and other veterans in his office received on November 11, because he just brought his card and cookies home this week. I admit my eyes get a little teary when I look at them, and think of the sacrifices and changed lives they represent. I am very grateful for the service of our veterans.

It is my fervent hope and prayer that our young men and women in the military will come home, and that a wisdom that can only come from the highest power will enable the leaders of nations to come up with something more creative and less destructive of life and the pursuit of happiness than fighting these horrendous wars. Tell me again, please. I never can remember. Why did we fight in Viet Nam? For more, I hope, than a moving monument in D.C that makes us cry when we stand before it, and see how much space it takes to write 58,000 names. Why are we fighting in Iraq? I should be able to remember. It was only eight years, 4,400 American deaths, 32,000 American wounded, and 100,000 Iraqi deaths ago that we invaded that country. What is our mission in Afghanistan? Will it be clear and understandable to us before we send in 20,000 to 40,000 more troops, or are we trapped on a runaway train?

Is the only way we can keep maniac butchers from flying into our buildings and killing people, to invade another country, and subject the hundreds of thousands of people who live there to the destruction of their homes and livelihoods, and the maiming of their children by bombs that go off in the streets of their cities? Really?

I think Americans knew why they were fighting in WWII.  It took some time before we got into it, but once in, it was an all out effort of government, soldier and civilian, and the mission was clear and necessary.  My connection as a civilian to our modern wars is not that of Rosie the Riveter. I did not volunteer the information during the Viet Nam War that my husband was in the Marine Corps or involved in any way. To the majority of my generation, if you weren’t out vocally protesting the war, your patriotism was in question. What a time that was! It was a version of civil war, but this time between the peaceniks and the hawks. America was torn apart in the name of saving its way of life. My husband wasn’t given any cookies as a memento of thanks for his service back in 1968!

Today, my attention turns to our wars only when a soldier’s death is announced on the news, and I feel the pain of the family, or when I see the profane cost in dollars of these wars, and compare that to the interest we pay every day on our debt to China, and hear how we can’t possibly afford the cost of health care reform. Then I remember to pray for that wisdom needed by our leaders to stop trying things that have proven not to work. If it were just a waste of time to continue unsuccessful approaches, that would be one thing, but the waste is far greater, and, in my opinion,more destructive to the very way of life we profess we are trying to preserve.

But, what do I know? There are complications that I do not understand. It is not my intention to call into question the sanity or patriotism of anyone who disagrees with what I have written. I am grateful to be an American with the freedom to say what I believe. Most of the time I’m happy to write about my grandchildrens’ birthdays and the beauty of that glorious Oak in my front yard with the impossibly red autumn leaves.

This morning, those red, white and blue cookies just got to me.

Glorious Oak

We’ve oohed and aahed,

Maple leaves, as golden as the sun

and had our fun.

Leaf pile fun

We’ve raked and piled,

Billions and billions of leaves!

and blown off the  roof.

Oh, please don't try to walk with that electric cord running between your feet!

Now, it’s time to LEAVE, leaves!

Bagged

White Birches

While we were exploring the Cedar Lake Camp in Chelsea, MI, I found a group of white birches. The bark on Birches in Southeastern Michigan isn’t as startlingly white as those found in Northern Michigan, but they are still striking trees. I decided to use one of my favorite camera techniques, an in-camera motion blur, to capture  my image of them. My method is to use shutter priority, setting the shutter dial between half a second and a second, and then, while moving the camera in the chosen direction, release the shutter. It is fun, and usually surprising, to see the resulting blur.  Some experimentation with the shutter speed setting is necessary, because it makes a big difference in the outcome. Sometimes you want a complete blur, and at other times it is nice to preserve some detail. In this instance, I had no detail, just vertical stripes, and thought it would be nice to have a hint of foliage among the vertical lines. I chose #95 Photoshop brush, which gave me large dab spots, and choosing from among the colors that existed in the image, I added discreet areas of color that looked like leaves.

Impressionist Garden at the Chicago Art Institute, and Iris Garden from the Quebec Canada Parliament Building are two other abstracts I created through use of the in-camera blur.

Michigan woods in autumn

I love photo excursions! When I go home to Ann Arbor, there is usually time set aside for one, or more. The destination is left up to my brother, because he is so stupendously good at it. Last January he took us to Barton Pond, and you have only to look at the pictures to see how perfect a winter photo trip that was. John picks the spots, my husband is always happy to carry my equipment, and they both like to go on these excursions, even though neither is a photographer. How lucky am I?

My husband has always been a cooperative equipment carrier. I remember the morning he acquired his official photographer’s assistant title. As he was leaving to go to work that day, I remembered that I had bought a new camera bag, and I said, “Oh wait, I bought you  a new camera bag. Try it, and see if it’s comfortable.” He stood in the kitchen in his suit and tie while I draped the bag over his shoulder, then mumbled that he was the poor man’s Tensing Norgay. I had no idea what he had just said, in fact, I thought he was suddenly speaking in tongues. I doubt there was a handful of people in the world besides my  husband, with his trivia stuffed brain, who knew that Tensing Norgay was Sir Edmund Hilary’s Sherpa porter on the climb to the top of Mr. Everest. Tensing is now my husband’s nickname and his official title  when he accompanies me on photo trips, schlepping fifty pounds of cameras, lenses, flashes, tripods, Etc. Etc.

Tensing was right there with his camera bag for the perfect October photo trip when John took us to picturesque Chelsea, Michigan, a town of about 5,000 people, home of Jiffy Mix, the Purple Rose Theater, very cool shops, and some great places to eat, like the Common Grille, where we had lunch. Chelsea is also located in the vast Waterloo Recreation Area, next to Cedar Lake, where there is a summer camp run by the State of Michigan, designed to introduce kids to Michigan’s natural world, and to instill in them a love of and respect for the outdoors. The camp was the destination of the day’s photography excursion.

Maples among the White Pines

We parked at the entrance to Cedar Lake Camp and walked about a quarter of a mile, enjoying everything that is wonderful about a Michigan fall: huge trees full of outrageous fall colors mixed with soft green White Pines that cushioned the paths with their fallen needles, a small cottage lined lake, cattails and milkweed gone to seed, and the haunting call of a Loon in the distance.  The camp was closed up, and very quiet, the kind of quiet that children learning to love nature should experience. The sound of traffic and children laughing has its place, but, oh, the miraculous sound of leaves fluttering to the ground, and the breeze rattling the dried branches of Elderberry bushes! There was a sense of anticipation throughout the camp of next season’s fun to come, rather than sadness that last summer was now gone forever.

Path paved with pine needles

Our path was strewn with pretty baubles.

Cabin in the woods 1.

Cabin in the woods 2.

Camp steps

Camp bench

Manhole cover with the year the camp was built.

The path through the camp led to Cedar Lake.

Swim at your own risk.

The canoes are tucked in until next season.

The picnic grounds are closed.

It would be a great time to be in these seats above a roaring campfire, looking out over the lake.