The Staircase

Move; faster and don’t look back. Did you hear something? Just when you know something is about to grab your ankle – you make it to the top of the stairs and into the light. Quick, close the door and lock it. Never look back – you don’t want to see if it really is there. If you see it – you will never go into the basement again. It had to be close behind you – you could feel that something was right there.

What does it look like? Will it grab you? Where did it come from? As a child these were my thoughts when I would walk/run up the steps from the basement. 

The creepier basement was at my grandmother’s. It was open, not finished, and full of things, shadows. There were wardrobes, light bulbs hanging from the rafters above, chairs, chests of drawers, and the old freezers.  

At night, when it was dark – not much ambient light in the woods at my grandmother’s – and you wanted ice cream; you had to go into the basement. Turning on lights as you made your way across the basement from the bottom of the steps to the other side to the freezers.

Not all of the memories of that basement were scary. I remember times I sat down there with my granddaddy as he worked on fishing lures or something near the fireplace. I played in the wardrobes trying on old dresses and fur coats. At the other end of the basement were cupboards filled with jellies, preserves, and vegetables my grandmother had canned the previous summer. There were deer hides from years before; fur so soft and easily shedding into your hand if you petted one.  Near the windows and the French doors were plants in the cold months that would take the places outdoors in the warm months; asparagus ferns and a gardenia that had belonged to prior generations. Sometimes there was a batch of dandelion wine curing on the dryer.

Like most basements – it was most scary in the dark; but became an adventure in the day time. I took these photos in the light of day – but they made me think back to steps in the dark.

Sandhill Cranes

Yesterday I was out running errands and I see hundreds of sandhill cranes flying overhead.  Bummer for me that I only have my iPhone -- as you can tell since I took this yesterday.

While the iPhone camera is great for many things -- to be able to get a good shot of the cranes -- well -- it would have been a waste of time.

So today I am in the house, in the basement, printing a photo. And I hear it. I hear the cranes outside. They have a very distinctive call -- a chortle or kind of rolling trumpet. So up the stairs I go and of course the long zoom lens is not on my camera and it is still in my camera bag. I quickly changed lenses and stepped outside. Standing in the front yard I could hear them, but not see them. I waited and scanned the sky until I see a few compared to the number I saw yesterday. Maybe these are the last in a long line since it took a few minutes to gather my gear in the house.

Here is the one photo I sort of liked from this morning.

a dozen cranes

Saturdays Back

For a while I had commitments almost every Saturday. And not just the Saturdays -- but other times and evenings and well, when too much is going on I think you need to stop and ask why.  Ask why are you doing it and be a little selfish and ask what is in it for you. I thought about my commitments and began to wonder where was the consideration for me in the equation. What was my incentive? When the questions pop up over and over and the incentive seems to not be there it is time for a change.

This morning was nice -- a little coffee, walking the dogs (twice), and head out to the Peachtree City Farmer's Market. I love this Farmer's Market -- and it is my home market which makes it nice -- plus it is two mornings a week! After picking up kale, goat cheese, and delicious chocolate croissants -- I headed home.

On the way to the market I noticed a place that I like to stop sometimes to take a photo. So on my way home this morning I stopped and whipped out the iPhone.

I love having my Saturdays back.

Rusty Cars

I wish I knew the statistic for how often a photographer takes a photo of a junk car, abandoned building or some graffiti. It must be several times a minute. A couple weeks ago I succumbed to the sirens' call of the auto junkyard. 

Whenever I take photos of a subject that is done, done again, and again, I question myself of why I am doing it and contributing to the ever increasing pile of stuff out there. And a junkyard -- oh my gosh. Yes, I had someone ask if I went to Old Car City. Nope, don't need to. There are plenty of nice junkyard close to home. Why travel to north Georgia to shoot the exact place that hundreds, no; more like thousands have been shooting. 

Still I did it. 

A few days ago I put up a blog with a photo from that day that I liked. Then there was this one. 

When I was taking this I knew I would like it. Not so much for the subject but for what else is there. The blues and greens mixed in with the earthiness of the rust color, pine needles, and brown leaves are beautiful. That scale on the windows and the light coming through it was what made me walk through a bit of bramble to get to this vehicle. And of course that side mirror and shard of broken glass among shiny bits of chrome. 

I just like it.

iPhone Overload

Just as I think I need to be more deliberate in my photos -- slow, thinking, take one instead of ten -- out pops my iPhone and before you know it I have five on my way to....well you get the (ahem) picture.

It is like it was when I got my first digital camera and realized that I was no longer limited by the number of frames on a roll. I could shoot; well until that 128mb card would fill up. 

The iPhone is so convenient. The apps make it so fun. The sharing on Instagram, Flickr, etc. make it all so easy. I am going to try -- for February -- to slow down. Thank goodness this is a short month.