“When you approach something to photograph it, first be still with yourself until the object of your attention affirms your presence. Then don't leave until you have captured its essence.” 

― Minor White

For years I scolded myself for not getting out more with my camera…
Out of my back yard, my neighborhood, my little town.
But no more . . .
Nowadays I make it a challenge to see what I might find of interest right in plain site.
Something I might walk by daily, something that tells a story.
Even if that story is a bit confusing at first glance.

“The restlessness and the longing, like the longing that is in the whistle of a faraway train. Except that the longing isn't really in the whistle—it is in you.”

― Meindert DeJong, The Little Cow and the Turtle

I always stop to listen what I am doing to listen to any train whistle, always paying attention to what arises inside of me as I listen. What is it I am longing for, what do I grieve?
Taking a moment to answer these two questions, is always enlightening.

“...I would never choose a subject for what it means to me. I choose a subject and then what I feel about it, what it means, begins to unfold. ” 

― Diane Arbus

We take photos for all kinds of reasons - these two are for hope.

I go and get the camera and do it. Photography is a medium in which if you don’t do it then, very often you don’t do it at all, because it doesn’t happen twice.”

– Paul Strand

The house is cold, even though the heat has kicked on, The sun is just rising and a thick bank of clouds hangs over the lake. I am the first one up, and know my husband will sleep another couple of hours, but it is not long before the dog wanders out looking for me. I open the door to the quiet, and watch him slip out the door, nose in the air, and before I even have the door closed he is baying. He runs randomly, trying to pick up the trail of the scent driving him. I watch as he crisscrosses our back deck and see the footprints right away. Slipping on my coat and shoes, I grab the treats, hoping the raccoon is long gone. He finally gives up the chase and trots over to claim his reward for keeping our yard safe. Hoping my neighbors slept through the commotion we both come back inside. I watch as he posts himself where he will have a clear view of the back yard, just in case. The room is dark, but I go and get my camera anyway. Because if I don’t do it now, it won’t get done.

The sun rises fast, and with the light I can see the frost. We both head back outside to welcome this winter day.

"And" seems to me closest. "And" nods toward the real. And "and" is the path to perspective. To feel and see from more angles and know all of them true, even the incomprehensible ones, even the ones that contradict one another.

- Jane Hirshfield

I am not sure what I am after. The wind is playing gently among the leaves, causing the light to dance and change and bounce around. I get frustrated, knowing I won’t get the focus I think I want. I stand back and just watch for what seems like a very long time. It feels uncomfortable, a bit silly even. But I stand firm, until tiny nuances begin to emerge, beyond the obvious. I adjust my settings, and play with moving my camera a bit, and even then I am not sure what I am after. Later on, I settle on one to share, hoping to remember how it felt to just stand back and consider the options,, one that speaks truth and hope and a little bit of bravery.

“Think about the trains you will take, not the trains you missed!” 

― Mehmet Murat ildan

So many of the subjects I point my camera at remind me of my father. I never pass up a train track. I have captured this one in Bellingham Bay often. On this day it was cloudy, and the air was crisp. The bay was quiet, the water calm. I shared the space with a couple sharing their lunch, and several gulls. I had been birthday shopping and on a whim stopped by on my way home, happy I had tucked my camera into my bag.

To espresso or to latte, that is the question...whether 'tis tastier on the palate to choose white mocha over plain...or to take a cup to go. Or a mug to stay, or extra cream, or have nothing, and by opposing the endless choice, end one's heartache.

-Jasper Fforde

I remember the year I took a photo of my morning latte almost every day. I followed along with others who were doing the same on Instagram. I even turned some of those shots into a tiny book. Today I might take a photo with my phone, especially if I am out and about and the barista has done magic with that foam, but for the most part I have lost interest. But this morning was different. I wanted to pay homage to this part of my day, for it is a constant, something I look forward to even as I am crawling into bed the night before. I am picky about my coffee beans, picky about the milk, and my mug. It is the solo dance I do, in the dark of the kitchen, as the sun rises over the lake, the ritual that sets the stage for the day ahead.