Golden Hour

old school bus

 So about a hundred years ago, when I was learning the different colors of light, I read about "the golden hour". That time when the sun is near the horizon and has that warm hue.  The hour just after sunrise or just before sunset.  I prefer sunrise. I have always been a morning person. And I feel less stress about gaining light than losing it.

The golden hour of the morning means getting up in the dark, having your goodies and your plan all ready to go. It means getting to your location in the dark sometimes, and setting up in the chilly dawn.
 It also means quiet streets. Fewer distracting humans. But it is that magic time, when even the ugly stuff can look better. The character and quality of the light are better. Everything seems to glow.

flair

This morning, Sarah and I were up early to go and see what old cars and Orange County graffiti  we could find.
There is a place not far away with about 20 decaying old cars and trucks. Sarah and I have been there before, but the cars are slowly falling apart so we keep being pulled back there.

cracked

 Time makes a wreck of everything. These old cars are not forsaken though. They are lined up in a row along side of a neighborhood street. An ominous reminder of the passage of time. While plants and town flourish around them, these old warriors stand guard.  The tires are flat, the paint is mostly gone and rust spreads, but they are beautiful to me.

I am particularly drawn the the headlights.  They are like the windows to the soul of these old things. I am amazed how much glass remains intact.  The shapes of the vintage head lamps is graceful and classic. I want to find more places where these kinds of cars are stored.

Red Eye

dented

Cool Chevy sedan

V8

Sterling

Chevrolet

broken windows

 more on decayed Cars

But even more important than the pictures we make of the old cars, is the time I get to spend walking around and talking about things with my Sarah. We used to get up early every Saturday and Sunday and go some place different with our cameras to see what we could find.  It was time to talk, about everything. Not just art and photography, but school, friends, life and love. Now that Sarah has a job, our forays in the early morning have become harder to arrange. The last time we were out early was when we went to Carmel and Monterey in September. I miss those early mornings with my girl. Going out by myself, makes me feel lonely. Going out with other people helps, but it is different.  Sarah and I have the same crazy rhythms and bizarre sense of humor.  We know when to talk, and when to shut up. 

"Mommmmm...."

"do you have to point that thing at me all the time?"

 And of course we can share gear which is handy.

I hate metaphor's

 So we went to our Graffiti place, and found that the owers had painted over the old art, and the new art, has not, matured yet. It was a bit sad.

I hope we can always do this

Not paying attention to me

she caught on

Hello Hollywood

baring her teeth at me

can we go now?

So my best photo buddy is moving on. Of course that is the natural way of things. The times we will go out will become fewer and fewer. Which will make them more  special  when we get them. She will go now with her friends, and I will go with mine. And it will be fine.

But the light will always be less golden for me for her absence, and more glorious when she is with me.  

peace and love,

deb

The Sound of a Hummingbird in a Fountain

Stone fountain

 The Mission at San Juan Capistrano  has quite a history. I have been there twice now. Once for the wedding of a couple with such a romantic story it deserves its own blog post. And just this past Saturday to take some photos.
 Now I loves me the history. But, I want to tell  you about something else. There is this little courtyard with a fountain.  The main attraction of this courtyard are the lovely bells. But there is a small stone fountain there as well. While we were standing there, what should drop in for a bath, but a  tiny male Rofous hummingbird. How did I know what kind it was you ask? Well I asked him.  He had the green and copper colored feathers that seemed to shimmer with the water. So I did some research, and Mexican legend has it that hummingbirds bring love and romance. Considering the number of weddings at the mission, it may be true.

The Bells were the focal point of the courtyard 

He was having a wonderful bath and playing in the water.  He was so fast, and I was so slow, he is all blurry.

  A Mayan legend says that the first 2 hummingbirds were made by the gods out of scraps left over from making other birds.  The god was so pleased with the result that he had an elaborate wedding ceremony for them. First the butterflies marked out the a room. Then flower petals  fell on the ground to make a carpet; Spiders spun webs to make a bridal pathway, then the sun sent down rays which caused the tiny groom to glow with dazzling reds and greens.

That is all cool. I know that when I see a hummingbird, I am filled with a sense of calm and peace. I hang in the back yard trying to snap a few photos of the birds in the evening. Usually my dog barks and scares them away. But once in a while I get one. They are amazing to me. Peaceful and magical.

Later, sitting on a bench discussing the sound of a camera shutter. It was decided that if it is your camera,  the shutter sounds like a hummingbird, playing in a fountain. I did not say that, but I thought it was pretty poetic, so I am swiping the line, and giving partial credit to the author.

Once I got home, the news about the shooting in Tucson was just terrible.  Is tragic the right word?  The loss of life, and injuries are heart wrenching.  The brave souls that tackled the man with the gun, while he paused to reload should be commended.
I still feel sad and empty. A child, a judge, senior citizens.  Just people, strangers gathering to hear what a congresswoman had to say.

I try to look for a pattern or a lesson, but I can not find anything in this violent desperate act. Do we live in a climate of hate?  I hope that we can come together, do some soul searching and let this crime become a turning point.
" Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know a for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." (John Donne)
love and peace from,
deb