Ouch!

Apparently, carpet isn’t the only texture that looks different from 30 inches off the ground (it’s actually 30 and ½ inches) compared to right in front of my face.  Yea, I figured THAT out at Papa and Gram’s house super quick.  Hardwood flooring looks (and feels) really different too!  I know why they call it “hard-wood”.  Have you ever fallen on it? Repeatedly??  Like over and over???  Not even a diaper can pad that hard fall.  On those few times I don’t land on my bum, and I am face to face with this hardwood, I notice the wood grain patterns.  They are so cool!!  They are like a rainbow, but without all the colors…or like ribbons in the wood…yea ribbons…that’s a better description. They are squiggly and smooth, flowing like water.   Then there are the nicks, the nail heads, and the seams.  (Don’t ask me why I know these terms at such a young age. I just do.)  It’s also possible there is dog fur and other treats to be found here and there!  Of course, when I do spend too much time face to face with the hardwood, Gram thinks it’s a little weird.  She calls me an odd duck, which makes me look around for a quack quack.  And…if I’m an odd duck, does that mean there are non-odd ducks??   I still haven’t found either one in her house, so I’m not sure what she is talking about!!  Again… you big people talk funny.

Anyway, next time you find yourself face to floor on hardwood, leisurely note how pretty it is…then pop up and say, “Tadaaaa!!!”.   It works every time folks.  Every time.

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• Nate’s Notes: Textures

By now, I’m actually used to the field adventures that Momma subjects me to each week.    More often than not, she embarrasses me, but I’m told that is building character in me.  Whatever.   She LOVES them;  we meet some interesting people and see some different places.  Here, she tells a little about it.

“When I began doing this work, I had to get used to ignoring the people giving me odd looks as I knelt down to take a photo of the crack in a sidewalk.  I had to get used to the whispers and the self-conscious feeling I had walking into an alley or abandoned house to snap some photos.  I had to become ready to talk to anyone I passed on the sidewalk.  Although I still have my moments, I not only got used to these aspects, I’ve embraced them as my adventures in photography. These adventures have awakened a part of me that became dormant sitting behind a desk, inside a building.   I’ve used them to show my son the world around us in a way I fear many people never will. 

I’ve visited historical towns, walked through ghost towns, felt sorrow and grief in cemeteries, rediscovered the joy of mud, rain, and jumping in leaves. 

Tombstone in Northern California

I’ve climbed the ruins of an abandoned sugar mill, concrete plant, burned out barn, and leaning house.  I’ve imagined the pioneers and miners in the gold country.  I’ve run from dogs in a vineyard!   I’ve been semi-accepted into the skater world!   I’ve met “Idaho”, a local man who told us stories and legends of Oakland, Oregon.  I’ve hesitantly chatted with “Lucy” as she warned us of a local ghost that can be captured in a photo. I’ve experienced pride when my 1 year old son charms the pants right off everyone we encounter.   I’ve laughed with my husband as we dodge curious and questioning glances, or overhear comments about “the two people with a baby taking weird photographs”.  

I said awhile ago that I am blessed because I get to “see” the world.  Well my adventures are just beginning.   I wonder who I’ll meet (and Nate will charm) next?  Where will my field adventure take me tomorrow?  There is so much world to see!

Of course what I’m about to ask you may seem silly, but humor me if you can.  Lower yourself to my level.  No, I don’t mean in a maturity way- neener neener, so there. Jeez, grow up!   I mean, spend the day crawling around.  Yea, actually crawling, or as close to that as you can get.  See things from my perspective.  Open your eyes and notice how much taller the trees are, how much bigger the windows are (or what they taste like),

Blades of Grass

the blades of grass, the mud puddles, the wood on kitchen cabinets, the patterns in carpet, the acorns and leaves on the ground, the strange and differing fabric on everyone’s legs.  Notice the taste…uhhhh…..I mean FEEL of linoleum, of tile floor, of wood decks (WARNING: some surfaces may not feel great and may cause mild splinters or scrapes).  Feel the cold (or warmth depending on the day!) of metal.   See the shapes in a chain link fence or in hog paneling.  It’s a different world at my level, one I bet you’ve forgotten about with all of your gadgets and devices.

So, I challenge you to crawl around, spend some time at my level for part of today;  LOOK and FEEL the world.  What else do you REALLY have to do the rest of the day?  Adult stuff?  Come on…go ahead, I dare you.  No…I double DOUBLE dog dare you.

Where I live, it’s like a tree fort all the time. A-Maz-ING!!!!   We have these trees all around that drop little nut thingies that Momma said are nutcorns…no…popcorns…no, that’s not right either.  Acorns!!  There are so many of them on our back deck and in our driveway.  All I know is that I really really really want to put them in my mouth.  But Momma is always watching me when I pick them up.  Pfff…they sure look like food to me!   She took a lot of pictures of them, said they were cool ground covering textures.   It’s also cool to see the strange grey kitty-like things eat them!  See!!!  They get to eat them!!  So not fair… That reminds me of the squirrel story about my Momma.   Have you heard it?  Here it is…I’ll try my best.

She was driving home one night in the fog and got pulled over by a wee-waa-wee-waa man (police).       Police:  License and registration please.  One of the lights on the front of your car is not working. On a foggy night like this, it is really important to have all lights working.  Momma:  I understand.

Police:  Just this week, this girl got hit on a foggy night by some car with a front light out.  It was pretty bad.   Momma: (Thinking…)  I’m sorry, did you say, “this girl” or “the squirrel”?  (She was trying to assess the seriousness of the situation.)

Police:  This girl (But to Momma it still sounded like “squirrel” …the police man looked at Momma very seriously now. )  Have you been drinking? Momma:  Just this iced tea.   (Thinking even harder…pretty sure he was talking about a squirrel…hmmm, he should really annunciate better!)

Daddy hit the back of her car seat at this point, and Momma took that as a sign to stop worrying and just take the ticket.   I like the story…it makes me smile.  Well, I’m off to find some nutcorns…oh…ACORNS!!

Golden-mantled Ground Squirrel (Spermophilus lateralis). Bryce Canyon, Utah (USA). Image taken by Eborutta. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Momma has a lot to say about water!  Here’s her journal entry.

As I look at the water texture images on our website, I am reminded of how often I have referenced water in my life in the last 4 years.   These years have been some of the hardest years of my life, where I’ve experienced the lowest of lows.  For about a year, I felt like I was drifting in a sea of confusion and sadness, periodically being pulled under the waves.   I had my own wave after wave of pain, and my husband had his own waves.  Sometimes, I was on the beach watching him out at sea, desperate to help him, but unable to get to him.   Other times, a sleeper wave came and grabbed me off that beach, and I was the one drifting away, crying out for a lifeline. 

Eventually, my husband and I made it out of those turbulent waters, only to be smacked in the face by a rainstorm of soaking pain, losing loved ones, and what felt like, parts of our identities.  During this time, I didn’t see the textures of the world, and a barely felt the splendor that surrounded me.  I didn’t notice the rusted metal, the tree bark, the fibers of rope, the patterns in brick, or the character of worn leather.  Water wasn’t beautiful to me…it was harsh, deceitful and dangerous.   Everything was dull, flat and dimensionless.  

I can’t even pinpoint when I started to feel again, but we fought our way out of the pain, swam back to shore, walked through the rainstorm and into the healing sunlight.  Day by day, my world came alive with colors.  Layers and layers of textures fell into place and I began to not only “see” the world, but to appreciate it for every piece of broken glass, rotting board, dried flower, and cracked concrete.  Water didn’t scare me anymore…it reflected light back to me. 

The rains came again…but this time they brought hope and the promise of life. It was on a rainy day last year that our son came to us.  And on this rainy day, as I look at these water textures, I know that those drenching years shaped us, polished us and strengthened us. 

Momma, and sadly now Daddy, talk about textures a whole bunch.  They discuss different textures like metal, wood, brick, leaves, dirt (one of my favorites!), paper, rope, water and concrete.  They describe them, they take pictures of them, they get excited about them, and they study them on the computer or in books.   Can I just gag now???  You know how I used to skip naps to spend more time with Momma?   Well, now I figured out I can just nap more to escape this madness.   If I could only get my hands on some ear plugs…but then they’d probably point out the texture of those too!!!   Okay, you want to talk texture?  Let’s do it…let’s talk about carpet.  It looks great from about 30 inches off the ground.  There is a cool pattern that I even admit to showing playmates who clearly don’t appreciate such things.   If I get on my knees and crawl … as if!! Crawling is for babies!! Sheesh.   So, let’s just say I kneel down to pick up a toy…that same patch of carpet, the squiggly lines and loops, looks different this much closer.  And then there is the face plant…that’s the texture I’m talking about.   I’m cruising along with what is becoming quite a graceful walk…then my feet forget what they are doing, my core balance betrays me…and splat… I’m face down in the carpet.  Sometimes I think the dog-dogs look like they are laughing at me, but then they quickly look away when I try to point it out to Momma.  That’s an issue for a later time.   Momma always says, with equal parts concern and encouragement, “Oops!  You okay? Of course you are kiddo, you’re tough. Back up you go!”   Sometimes, though,  I stay there, face down, a few seconds longer, and do my own “studying” of this carpet.  It is soft…it does NOT taste good…and smells like Febreeze and firewood.  Now that’s texture!!!   It IS super duper cool how the same part of the floor looks (and feels) so different from 30 inches to 0 inches!  I should probably get up now.  About those dog-dogs…

Some days, everything outside gets a big bath when the sky faucet turns on.  Apparently it’s called “rain”.  Well, once the rain stops and I convince Momma to stop taking pictures of all the rain drops on our windows, we get to head outside to play in the dirt!    I said play, people…NOT eat.  Pshaw…like I would ever try to eat that stuff???!!!  Not when anyone is looking… Anyway, I just discovered my first mud puddle.  Holy bouncing balls and bananas!!   Have you ever played in a mud puddle??   It is soooo much fun.  I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you’ve played in mud.   Where has this been all my life???  Okay, given my lifespan, that last statement may have been melodramatic.

Mud is one amazing texture…It’s goopy, soft, cool, squishy, squeezable, and leaves great colors!  You can draw with it, stomp in it, smear it, eat it…errr, I mean, throw it.  Yea, throw it.  He he.   Have you ever looked at mud when it’s an inch from your face?  Have you ever rubbed your face in it!!???  Well, of course, mud and fresh tire tracks in the dirt are providing many cool texture photo shots for Momma, which she loves. See- Momma LOVES the mud too!!  I know these things.  So, dirt plus rain equals really cool pictures and fun.   It’s a yum yum…I mean win win!!

I think she knows I’m reading her journal because she just keeps leaving it right where I can reach it…even if climbing is involved.  I am pretty agile though.  I have mad walking skills now.   Anyway, we’ve been outside a lot lately and here’s what she has to say about all that.

“I always start grieving on the first day of summer.  Conversely, I start celebrating on the first day of winter because I know the coming months bring the promise of more daylight, strengthening warmth from the sun, and the promise of wildflowers galore.  However, the first day of summer means a shift of progressively shorter days,  less daylight, the threat of cooler days and nights, rain, and being stuck inside during my least favorite months of the year. 

Maybe it’s because we have Nathaniel now and I get so much pleasure from showing him the beauty and power of nature.  Or maybe it is because I now have the privilege of “seeing” the world daily by taking photographs as part my work.  Either way, I am beginning to notice the beauty of these shifting days in a way I’ve never appreciated before.  The warm hues and long shadows of autumn days have always captured me. But I usually become a bit melancholy when the leaves have all fallen and the rain begins.   It rained for a few days last week, and after I took dozens of photos of the raindrops on our windows, I almost gasped at their beauty when I saw them on my computer screen later that night.  The cooler nights mean we have started building fires to heat the house (our only source of heat is our wood burning stove).  The splendor of the dancing and glowing flames isn’t easy to capture in a picture…but I sure tried!!  That first rain turned our hills from the summer gold to a gleaming, winter green in a matter of days.  Our house is hugged by acres of oak and pine trees, and the moss on these trees is alive with the new moisture, bursting with a majesty that demands you take notice.  The grapevines that surround us in our wine valley are the prettiest now, after the harvest has come and gone, each leaf a painting of colors. 

In early December, I may be singing a different, more anguished song (okay, just good ‘ole whining);  But for now, I can’t be anything but grateful for realizing the unique beauty that each new day brings.  Now to get my camera…

Have you ever watched chickens run?  It is soooo funny!!   You gotta see it.   It might be funnier than watching Momma try to dance.   I could watch them for hours.   If my teeth are hurting or my toys bore me, I just watch our chickens run and feel better.  Momma laughs a lot too.  She calls them “The Ladies”.  Well, the other day she was going on and on about taking pictures of The Ladies because of their feathers or fur or skin (or whatever it is called)…well, they are pretty.  So we put on our shoes and went down to the pen with her picture-taker thingy.   I was having a great time watching them run and maybe even chasing them so they would run.  That’s when I saw them!  Did you know our chickens make little ball thingamajigs??!  Before she started taking pictures, Momma collected all these white and brown balls and put them in a bowl.  Well…when she wasn’t looking, I wandered over to retrieve these.   I needed them for my ball collection!!!   I have to say I was slightly disappointed that they didn’t bounce.  In fact, they went from a ball…to little pieces with yellow slime that came out of them.  Momma had a strange look on her face, kind of like she was upset, but kind of like she was smiling.  I just kept pointing and asking, “Ball?  Ball? Ball?”.  “No baby,” she answered me.   “Those aren’t balls!  They are chicken eggs you silly goose!  Now we have less to sell for your piggy bank!”  WHAT was she talking about with all these animals!?  Chickens, I get…but a goose and a piggy??  Oh man.  I slapped my palm to my forehead and suddenly became very tired, still quite disappointed.  Okay, so they aren’t balls…they are eggs.   Eggs don’t bounce.  But they sure make a super duper cool picture all broken up!