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!

This isn’t easy, but I feel ready to talk about my lost lovey (the most amazing blanket that gave me special powers).   We were on an extended field adventure, taking architectural pictures in a big Oregon city when it was lost.  THIS time, I didn’t throw it out of the stroller…it just left me. (Hold on, I need a moment.)  

I freaked out, of course.  I NEED the lovey!  It helps me!  It makes me feel safe!!   What was I going to do without it???  Panic. Panic.  Panic. Then… anger, anger, anger…my lovey left me because of some stupid pictures!!!  Momma and Daddy looked sick while we went back over the big city sidewalks and streets to find it. But we never did.  For awhile, nobody said anything. We eventually went into a store and found a blanket, but by then, I guess I was asleep in Momma’s arms, just exhausted from the trauma of losing my lovey.   So, when I woke up, this blanket was on me…it kind of felt the same…and it was white too…but it didn’t have bears on it and certainly didn’t smell right.   I just wanted to go back to sleep…so I did.   When I woke up again, the new blanket was still there.   I started to panic again, but then looked at Momma.  In her eyes was so much love that the panic went away, and I felt safe and warm.   She hugged me and rocked me some more while Daddy came over to rub my head.  He kissed my forehead (super heroes don’t often do this in public, so I knew the situation was bad).   After a few minutes, I actually felt okay, maybe even stronger than before!!   I realized then, that it wasn’t the lovey that had given me special powers.  It was Momma and Daddy.  Because they love me, I knew I could do anything.  I felt strong and safe with them, so it didn’t matter what lovey I had, as long as I had them.  I guess I could give this new blanket a chance.

Somewhere on the streets of that big city…the lovey found a new person who needed help…who needed to feel safe because he didn’t have a Momma and Daddy like me.

Hey look at that cool, old building over there with all the pretty glass windows!!  We should go take pictures of that!!

Please read this journal entry by momma.   It speaks for itself.

 “Well, we’re home from our quick adventure to the Portland area of Oregon.  The road trip provided some amazing opportunities to see not only family, but also the beauty of Fall, a couple ghost towns and cemeteries, and some great city architecture.  What fantastic photos to take!   Unfortunately, the trip also reminded me of my social awkwardness. 

 When your job and passion entails taking pictures, you really do look at landscapes and buildings with more than a passing glance.  I glimpse textures of wood, metal and brick from afar, and notice colors and objects framing shots constantly.  If I’m not careful to turn this quirk “off”, at the very least, it exhausts the people I’m around.  More likely, though, it makes me seem completely unhinged to onlookers.   For example, as we’re driving along, I now blurt out shots I notice of textures we need to capture.  This translates into random and interrupting announcements such as, “composite roofing!”, “rusty metal!”, “carved ice, carved ice!”, “cracked plaster!”, “distressed and weathered wood!”, “sand!”, “painted brick!”, “cracked concrete!”, “oooooo, cool utility cover!”, “hay!”, “peeling paint!“, “go baaaaack!”, and so on…and so on.   Now, if only in the company of my husband and baby, this is marginally acceptable, and earns me rolling eyes from Chad and what seems to be a blank, if not slightly disapproving, stare from baby Nate.  However, when out with a friend, or at the store, or walking downtown, these exclamations earn me judging glances, pursed lips, scowls dripping with disdain (or maybe fear), and more than a few head shakes.  If I’m really on a roll, I then try to explain what my narrating blurts mean to onlookers.  This usually turns into fragmented mumbling, my voice trailing off as I then just stop all talking, stare and blink at the person I’m trying to convince of my sanity.  Silence is met by more silence.  Then I audibly sigh, break eye contact, and move on. Sometimes I pretend someone is calling me from across the street or store.   No awkwardness there! My poor family…” 

It’s me, Nate, again.  Well, you read it!  See what I’m saying????!!!  It’s okay if you feel sorry for me…

So, momma is always pointing out textures and trying to teach me how to use good descriptive language.  She puts my toys and stuffed animals in front of me and goes into detail with their colors, shapes, sizes, and materials.  She shows me stuff outside all the time.    I think it’s great, mostly because her eyes light up and she uses pretty words.  It makes me smile, which only encourages her to do it more.  Sometimes she even blurts out descriptions when we’re in public…that’s weird and awkward.  I don’t smile then.  I go into distract mode…but come on people!!!   Even my charms have a limit!

Anyway, I’m a little concerned that momma’s awkward quirks are spreading…to me.  Not cool.  This became clear the other day at a playgroup.    I was engaged in my vroom vroom cars and showing a little girl how tires work.  I simply pointed out to her the rubber treading and the cool pattern.  She soooo didn’t get it and shoved a Barbie in my face.  So I moved on to a nearby boy and tried to point out the fibers in the multicolored carpet.  I told him how beautiful the colors were, how intricate the pattern was formed by the lines of contrasting stitching.  I even rubbed by cheek on it to show him how soft it was.  He started hitting me.  Someone will need anger management classes in the future, and I don’t mean me!    I tried again with another boy across the room who was playing with a plastic house set.  I told him about the formed plastic and the pattern and texture created in the roof and grass.  He stared at me…blinked…and drooled a little.  And I don’t think it was excited drool.  What was wrong with these kids??  They clearly lacked the maturity to comprehend me!  So I tried with the woman by the door.  I pointed to the raindrops on the door window and the slight crack in the window above the door.  I told her how cool the water droplets were and that the broken glass had its own beauty.  She smiled at me.  Finally!!!  Someone got it!!   And then she scooped me up and said, “Oh sweet baby…you just babble away don’t you!?!  You have so much to say, I wish I knew what it was!  Sooo cute you are!” …And then she pinched my cheek and told me to go play with my friends.  Sigh.  Where were my momma and daddy?  They understand what I am talking about.  They’re cool like that.

We’re back from our extended field adventure.  Here are a few numbers from the trip:  5 days, 1500 miles, 31 hours in the car, 4 gas stops, 13.1 miles that momma ran in under 2 hours, 4 amazing cousins, 1307 pictures, and 21 new books.  There was also one lovey lost (for good this time), and one new one purchased.  I can’t talk about those right now though …just too hard.

Last time I wrote about numbers, I think I expressed my frustration about the focus of those numbers being more on pictures taken when it should be on the cereal puffs and bananas I’m fed or the number of books read to me.   Apparently my language isn’t clear enough to my momma.   Sure I love to count to 10 as much as the next guy.   But now we talk about thousands and thousands…and thousands.   And I’m dizzyingly lost.

Once again, my mom and the people she works with say things like, “Wahoo!!” and “Very Cool!” and “No stopping us!”…about the number of pictures on a website.   Pictures people.  Pictures.   Here’s a picture for you…imagine a grown woman doing some awkward jumping and turning in an attempt to dance when she gets a message on her phone that says, “we’ve passed 14,000 original images and we’re rounding the corner to 15,000!!”   Yea.  Welcome to my world.