When I meet people who are not from Nevada and I tell them I am from Nevada, they will often ask how I deal with the heat in Las Vegas. Like many native Nevadans, I end up explaining that Las Vegas is in the very southern tip of the state, and there are thousands of square miles north of Las Vegas. Really. Not everyone from Nevada is from Vegas.
The Nevada I call home is high desert. We have four seasons here with snow every winter.
I live at 5000 ft. at the base of the Ruby Mountains in the northeast corner of the state. These are the mountains that the Hastings cutoff skirted. Rather than following the California trail along the Humboldt River to the north, the Donner party went around the south and inadvertently added several hundred miles to their journey. Bad idea.
I took these pictures from my front yard over the past month as the changing colors slowly descended the slopes. I’ve always enjoyed watching, so this year, I decided to record it.
It’s Spring Break in my life, and my sister and I are on our fourth Sister Trip hence the two day lag in my regular posting schedule. We haven’t taken a trip together in a few years, so we were looking forward to this one. We met in a destination both of us have wanted to visit for quite some time, Sedona, Arizona. It’s a beautiful area in the high desert of northern-ish Arizona. Towers and spires of red rocks cover the area.
We both love to hike and went on one short hike to Bell Rock before we even checked into the hotel. If you walk around to the back side of the rock, you can get almost up to the top. We got about half way up before stopping, sitting for a while, and then heading down. It was lovely but pretty crowded with people.
The area is covered with “vortexes,” and Bell Rock is one of the stronger vortexes. So far, I’ve been to three vortexes that I’m aware of. According to our hiking trails guidebook, a vortex is described as “subtle energy . . . it is very real, and those with a stronger sensitivity to intuition, energy and emotion are able to feel it” (Andres, Denis, Sedona’s Top Ten Hikes, 10). Entire books are devoted to the Sedona vortexes, and I was pretty excited to “feel” them, but apparently I’m not too sensitive to intuition, energy or emotion because I didn’t feel much different in the vortexes than I do anywhere else. The hikes, however, have all been beautiful.
On Thursday, we hiked to “Devil’s Bridge.” Generally, I am not a fan of walking near tall scary cliffs as I don’t like heights, but perhaps the energy in the area helped with this fear because I traipsed out onto the bridge without giving it a second thought.
Today, we hiked to Cathedral Rock, another vortex site. We hiked up around the left side of it, went off the trail a ways, and sat quietly meditating for a bit. Despite the heat of the sun, the rocks stay incredibly cool.
On our way down from Cathedral Rock we came across Buddha Beach on Oak Creek where people have built cairns all over. I love rocks and cairns so the entire beach made me happy.
On the flight to Phoenix, I was reading Kurt Vonnegut’s novel The Siren’s of Titan and read the following passage which is a description of Miss Fenstermaker, who teaches in the school on Mars. “Her office was crammed with ungraded school papers, some of them dating back five years. She was far behind in her work – so far behind that she had declared a moratorium on school work until she could catch up on her grading. Some of the stacks of papers had tumbled, forming glaciers that sent fingers under desk, into the hallway, and into her private lavatory. There was an open, two-drawer filing cabinet filled with her rock collection” (145). It made me laugh out loud as I can so relate to the poor Miss Fenstermaker.
Tomorrow is our last day here before heading back to the real world and responsibilities. Like Miss Fenstermaker, I have stacks of papers waiting for me on Monday morning, and my suitcase is full of rocks that I’ve picked up on my hikes. But my spirit is definitely feeling refreshed and relaxed. If only I could, like her, declare a moratium on school work, life would be perfect!
This little roll of film made getting pics so much easier.
Last weekend, my husband asked for one picture, a single lone shot he took. When I went to get it off my camera, I discovered that every single picture I’ve taken over the past year and a half was still on the memory card. Oops.
It took me an entire afternoon and evening to get the pictures onto my computer, sorted, labeled, and edited. It has taken the rest of the week to get them uploaded onto a web site, so I can order them. As I’ve dealt with all these digital images, I’ve been thinking about all the reasons I miss the days of film and negative strips:
1) I take far too many pictures with a digital camera. It never runs out of film, and I can just delete the bad shots which makes taking 1000’s of pictures easy. With film, every image cost money to develop, so I was much more particular about the shots I took.
2) It takes hours of precious time to deal with my overabundance of digital images.
3) I can no longer shove a roll of film into an envelope, drop it into the Kodak box at the grocery store, and pick up the developed pics a few days later. The photo people took care of everything, saving me lots of time.
4) Editing bad photos merely entailed tossing the crappy ones in the trash, the actual can underneath my desk, not a virtual recycle bin on my desktop.
5) Before I get an actual picture, I have to upload them to my computer, sort them into folders, edit them, and upload them to a site before I can order them. The other option is to take my memory card to Wal-Mart on a Saturday with every other person in my small town and wait in line to use one of their machines to develop my shots. Neither of these options is quick or ideal.
6) I no longer have film canisters lying around to store random odds and ends or make to fill with something for a quick baby rattle. The only ones I have left are the ones my husband’s grandma gave us full of the different State Quarters. Did you know that a film canister fits a stack of quarters perfectly? I’m not sure my kids even know what those handy little black canisters filled with
quarters were originally used for.
7) I now have a phone that takes pictures. When we used film, my camera was the only “device” I owned that took pictures, and I didn’t carry it everywhere. I have far too many opportunities to take photos which I then have to deal with.
8) Did I mention that it takes far too much time to take organize and print digital images?
9) In the next week or two, I will receive 800+ photos in the mail, a huge amount. In the happy days of film camera, I got my pictures in perfectly manageable bunches of 24 or 36, depending on the roll of film I had purchased. After my monster order arrives, I will have to spend another hour or two sorting and filing all these photos, getting them ready to put into an album, so we can actually enjoy them. Isn’t that the point? I won’t get started on the amount of time it takes to put them in albums and write about them. I can’t blame that problem on digital cameras, though, so I’ll leave it alone in this post.
Perhaps my problem is not the camera, but the fact that I love photos. I enjoy taking them, putting them in albums, writing the stories behind them, and looking at them. The only real solution here is to abandon photography altogether since I seriously doubt film cameras will ever make a comeback, and abandoning photography is not a solution.
Maybe I should just deal with my photos more frequently than every 18 months. I think I’ll try that.
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, –seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d–till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.
-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
I almost just want to say . . . “nuf said,” as this poem perfectly captures both the photo and my own journey right now, but . . . I can’t.
My daughter took this shot on our vacation to the California coast and the Redwood Forests last week. I hadn’t seen the shot until I uploaded the pics off the camera when we got home. Not only is it an amazing photograph (at least to me – her completely unbiased mom), it reminded me of Walt Whitman’s poem, “A Patient, Noiseless Spider.” I almost cried when I re-read the poem. I hadn’t read it for years, but as soon as I saw the photo, I remembered the last line of the poem.
It’s interesting how our memories work. Right now, this poem has far more meaning to me than it did the first time I read it as an undergrad twenty some years ago, and some little part of my brain remembered it, dredged it up for me to re-read when it actually means something to me. I had it all figured out then. Now? Not so much.
Unlike the spider, I am not so patient or quiet, despite my best efforts.
Like the spider, I too am ever unreeling and speeding out threads, “musing, venturing, throwing – seeking,” praying that they catch, connecting me to my purpose here is on this earth.
I am on the right path. I am writing, I am creating. I am exploring, spinning threads, and I will keep throwing them out there until I have created something as lovely as this web in the sunlight. And maybe, just maybe, somebody else will think so too.