Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
… so I can overlook the fact that there are two cats on the kitchen counter. This little window nook provides an excellent view of the squirrels that run up and down the fence to move between the front yard and back. Boo and Trixie are genuinely becoming friends, this morning as I was getting ready for work they were happily chasing each other from bedroom to bedroom.
Sam, on the other hand, is very much a work in progress.
She’s a quick learner.
Don’t worry Trixie, Boo didn’t exactly get it right his first time either.
I love the cracked bark of old trees, it almost looks like there is another tree inside trying to burst forth. I love the texture and colors of a tree that first sprang from the earth long before I was born and will likely be around long after I’m gone. And I love how when you look closer you see the tiny spider webs and the delicate lichen and realize there are little worlds existing within this small section of this giant tree, which is just one tree in a large forest circling a massive volcano, and you feel lucky to just be standing there, a part of one little story next to a tree that could tell thousands.
A picture from a couple of years ago of our cat Emma with eyes wide open, keeping an eye on young Boo who we had adopted three weeks prior. We were just starting to give him limited time into the house at large and Emma was not happy about it, following him around wherever he went. In a year and a half disease would steal Emma from us and we found ourselves introducing another young cat, Trixie, but this time it was Boo (and Sam) who were not happy about the new arrival and we were in for another slow introduction.
I had just gotten my Canon M, their little mirrorless camera, when we got Boo and was taking most of my pet pictures (then and now) with it. While it was a very flawed camera, I got it on a fire sale so there was little financial risk and I treated it as an experiment to see if I would like mirrorless cameras (I did) and with the hope that Canon would get more serious about mirrorless (they didn’t). I loved how I didn’t have to hold the camera to my eye, which not only let me get a lot of shots of the pets I wouldn’t have otherwise, but Emma was also a lot more tolerant of being photographed since she could still see my face.
I’ve been thinking for a while now about moving to a mirrorless system that would better fit my needs, or possibly going to a larger full-frame sensor, and this morning two pretty groundbreaking cameras got announced that would allow me to do both with one camera, and best of all each offers built-in image stabilization. I haven’t had much time to read up on them and, unlike my little M, either would require a massive investment in a camera I haven’t made since my first digital camera.
Right before I left for work Leica announced the Q, a gorgeous little fixed lens camera. I’ve never shot with anything as wide as its 28mm lens, nor anything as fast as it’s f/1.7 lens, but at first glance a lot of thought went into its design. I’ve always wanted to own a Leica but never have, much like in cars I’ve always wanted a Volvo, Mazda, or Alfa Romeo. This one has my interest, but on the other hand, I’m not sure I’d use it enough to justify its price tag.
While I was at work Sony announced their latest interchangeable lens full-frame camera, the A7R II. While it had been rumored for a while, they upgraded more from the original A7R than I was expecting (a camera that intrigued me but had too many foibles to seriously tempt me). This one seems to have fixed many of my issues with the previous model, and rather curiously, there are reports that Sony was demonstrating that with an adapter you could attach Canon lenses and still get autofocus. Not sure how well it would work, but if I could use my existing lenses with it …
I first learned of salvia from Ciscoe Morris, host of my favorite gardening show, and I quickly came to love them almost as much as our local hummingbirds. As Ciscoe would say, oh la la! We have several varieties now, this one is known as “Hot Lips” and has lovely red-and-white flowers from spring until late fall.
I spent the summer of 1994 on the eastern coast of Florida and, as an animal lover, was delighted to discover a nearby wildlife refuge, Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge. There was much to love about the park but it was the alligators that drew me back again and again. Yet my only camera at the time was a point-and-shoot which wasn’t well suited to the task. I wasn’t into photography at the time and regardless couldn’t afford a better camera.
I returned to school in the fall and in January was surprised to receive a check from Motorola, a bonus (a rather nice one) from my time as an intern. I was on fellowship by that time and had already budgeted my expenses for the year so I decided to treat myself to my first SLR, a Canon Rebel with a kit lens and an inexpensive telephoto. My wife bought me a bird guide and thus began my foray into photography.
But I didn’t return to Florida the next summer and instead stayed at school to concentrate on my doctorate, and the next year I finished my degree and moved to Oregon. So it seemed my chance to photograph alligators had come to a close.
But when my mom and stepdad retired they moved to South Carolina and during a family reunion in 2005 my brother and I headed out before sunrise to a nearby park, Huntington Beach State Park. We photographed the sunrise on the beach and then went back up towards the lagoon, with freshwater on one side and saltwater on the other. My time in Florida came flooding back. There were egrets and herons and cormorants hunting in the marsh. And alligators! So many alligators! I was also able to see them again the following morning before it was time to head to the airport and return to Oregon.
This time, with alligator pictures.
It used to be when I left the River S Unit at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge and started my trek home, I’d round the bend and get this lovely view of Mount St. Helens. Early in 2004 I stopped to take a picture of the volcano with the foothills coated in snow, as they were just starting to convert a meadow into a subdivision and I knew the view wouldn’t last.
A large number of new subdivisions have gone in since as the sleepy little town transforms into a bedroom community for Vancouver and Portland. I’ve often thought about how wonderful it would be to live in one of those houses, to be able to roll out of bed near sunrise and be right at the refuge, but I wouldn’t seriously consider moving there — the refuge is on the other side of the Columbia from where I work and the commute would be soul-crushing.
The receding tide left these sea stars high and dry above the tide pool, arm in arm, their forbidden love exposed.
This is the look of a dog who heard the refrigerator door open and is using her ears and nose to determine if the cheese drawer is being opened (cheese, yummy cheese!) or her hot dog container is being taken out (she gets her medicine stuffed in hot dog slices). In her younger years when I’d close the fridge door she’d just magically be there, making me wonder if she was using wormholes to silently move from wherever she was sleeping to the fridge.
When I walk her and see how much she smells and hears that I can’t, I can’t help but ponder how much of the wonder of the world I’m missing even though it is literally under my nose.
Boolie 