Stumbling across serenity

After we ordered dinner and paid, the waitress said “You can’t eat here. Take away only, love.”  We had been on our feet all day. I was hungry. Like a hippo. Carrying our dinner around Greenwich looking for a park bench wasn’t my idea of a relaxing meal.

“Let’s head back up to the pier.” It was just a few blocks away. Once there, we spilled ketchup on our shirts and mustard on our jeans while balancing the burger and chips on our laps. But the breeze of the Thames was relaxing and refreshing. And then…there was the sky. Peeking through the clouds and reflecting off the river…it was more gorgeous than we expected or could have imagined. We accidentally found a hidden gem of beauty and serenity.

We were in the UK for 9 days. Of all the unbelievable things we saw, this was my favorite moment. Stumbling across serenity. That’s how life can be. We plan, prepare, dream, and build. Then life reveals its own unexpected surprises.

So when your plans don’t go quite how you intended, look around for unexpected beauty. There isn’t always a silver lining…sometimes it’s golden.

Stonehenge, sunrise, solstice!

The summer solstice is the biggest day of the year at this ancient “Wonder of the World.” Our colorful tour guide (a whimsical fellow who was a writer and poet when he wasn’t a guide) informed us that more than 40,000 people were expected that day. He had done the coveted “double shift,” leading a tour at sunset late in the evening followed by sunrise on the solstice.

“You can feel the vibes!” the Bard of Bath told us, with a voice equal part reverent whisper and jubilant squeal. He also told us he won the title of “The Bard of Bath” in a writing contest years ago. Personally, I believe him.

Most of our fellow sunrise watchers were definitely feeling the effects of something beyond everyday reality. The atmosphere was vibrant and chaotic.

It was impossible to remain inside the inner circle of stones. Although the sea of humanity was fluid and welcoming, the chaos was virtually impossible to navigate. As hard as we tried, we couldn’t establish a solid claim on any patch of ground in the inner ring. We allowed the tide to wash us just outside the inner ring and stood firm at the base of a gigantic monolith. It was the perfect vantage point to watch the creator paint a masterpiece in the heavens.

The crowd was a strange mix… there were tourists and families just like us. There were a few people dressed in full druid (or wiccan) garb, exuberantly cheering and chanting. Joey snapped a picture of Gandalf. Just after sunrise a middle aged man with a saxophone started playing jazz standards while leaning on a stone. Most people seemed to be there simply for the party. For them it had been a long night, full of thrills and mood altering substances (from beer to Monster to “other things”). They were trying to hang on for the grand finale. Most made it, too. Others slept through sunrise wrapped tightly in a blanket, oblivious to the thousands of pairs of feet trampling by mere inches from their slumbering heads.

The morning forecast called for overcast skies but no rain. The cotton ball clouds stretched all the way to the horizon, but then broke. Right where the sky touched the ground, there was a big enough opening to let the brilliant rays from the rising sun break through and dance off the clouds. For a full hour before sunrise the heavens were full of brilliant oranges, purples, pinks, reds, and yellows. And then…sunrise.

That’s when things got really weird. Someone at Stonehenge on the solstice probably saw a glimpse of the sun. We, however, did not. After the stunning pre-dawn show, as soon as the sun was above the horizon, it was behind the clouds. All the color drained from the sky and the world turned a colorless gray.

We wandered around the post-dawn monochrome field and stones for a few minutes. Maybe we were wondering if the sun would break back through in spectacular fashion. Maybe we realized this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and we weren’t quite ready for it to end. Once the crowd began to disperse, the chill really set in. As we made our way back to the bus, the Bard was talking again about vibes and burial mounds. History and harmony. We certainly experienced both. It was unforgettable and unrepeatable.

 

 

 

A Dad’s Day

Dads get a bad rap. They are expected to provide for their families then are accused of being absent workaholics. They are expected to protect their kids from the dangers of the world then accused of being overprotective or controlling when kids get rebellious. It’s tough to be a dad. I’m both a father and a son. I know what the path looks like. Here are some things I’ve learned from my dad and try to pass on to my sons.

I’m thankful that my dad held me and cherished me.

 

I’m thankful my dad taught me how to fly.

 

 

I’m thankful that my dad exhibits a spirit of adventure and is always willing to bring his family along.

 

I’m thankful that my dad was creative and silly underneath his quiet exterior.

I’m thankful my dad taught me how to be a man.

I’m thankful my dad welcomed my sweet lady into our family traditions.

I’m glad my dad always is willing to stand by my side.

And there is so much more (not pictured). Endless games of catch. Bike rides across the state of Oklahoma. Hiking and camping in the mountains. Boy scouts. An appreciation for great music (John Denver). A love and appreciation for natural wonders. Photography. Writing. Shooting. Astronomy.

He taught me that I could teleport, but only when I fell asleep on the couch at night. The next day I’d wake up in my own bed. It was magic. Oh, but that one time…when I had probably already outgrown it… I remember waking up as my dad carried me up the stairs to my bedroom. He made it seem effortless. I still remember the quiet, gentle strength of his arms. I closed my eyes and stayed still…somehow knowing I couldn’t really teleport makes the memories even more magical.

Bird Bucket List

Do you recognize the kid in this picture? It’s one of my awesome sons. Both my kids have been very fun to have around during my photography adventures. They’ve been excited to go on long, slow walks with me and easily keep themselves entertained throwing rocks into the water or talking to the geese while I busy myself stalking a blue heron.

Tonight this not-quite-as-little-as-he-used-to-be guy suggested I make a list of the birds I’d like to take pictures of in 2013. I hadn’t ever thought of that… I’ve already shot and can spot more than I would’ve dreamed possible a few months ago. Really, who would’ve guessed I’d know what a yellow-rumped warbler was? But, here it goes. I’m trying to keep it reasonable. I’ll be traveling to Paris and to Brazil this year and I have no idea what I’ll see in either place, so I’ll keep this list domestic.

1. Red headed woodpecker
2. Pileated woodpecker
3. Wood duck
4. Yellow bellied sap sucker (that’s my favorite bird name)
5. Baltimore Oriole
6. An owl, any kind
7. Cardinal (I have a few shots of these guys, but none that are very good)
8. American Goldfinch
9. Brown headed cowbird (that’s a good name)
10. Scissor tailed flycatcher (state bird)
11. Ruby throated hummingbird
12. ?????

Do you have any suggestions?

Prodigal Son

My dad is a birder. He was a veterinarian in his first career, so he knows a few things about animals. I remember when I was little he always loved eagles and hawks. He even had a “rehabilitated-but-still-injured-and-unable-to-return-to-the-wild” Red-Tailed Hawk as a pet for years. These days is seems like every bird fascinates him. His knowledge in that area far surpasses anyone else I’ve ever met and anything I could hope to achieve.

Me, not so much. I can probably spot more birds than the average person because of my upbringing, but I’ve always found other things to obsess over. Then I got this camera. When I look at these guys up close through my lens I feel like I need to know more about them. I need to learn their behaviors so I can know when and where to find them, and what they may be doing. I find that with each one I shoot, I really want to know what it is right away. And I’m a little bit surprised at how many birds are out there that I can’t identify. Suddenly I have this strange desire to stand very still for an hour or two in the 20 degree Oklahoma wind just to get a chance to capture one of these crazy little birds.

I suppose I’m a prodigal son of a birder. I’ve wandered for many years, squandering my father’s bird-fortune. Now I feel like I’ve returned.  Let’s party.

Eastern Bluebird