The mountain, the haircut; daughter and I embibe in Devil's drink, #2 and other stories from an exquisite day in the magical Season of Light
Afternoon had now slipped into early evening. I was getting no work done at all and I
Running Dog Publications
Afternoon had now slipped into early evening. I was getting no work done at all and I
I did not take even a single photo of the highlight of yesterday's activities. I meant to, but when the time
I had to go to town to pick Margie up from the airport. I had not yet had a chance to see Charlie's raven show, so, an hour before Margie's flight was scheduled to arrive, I picked Charlie and Melanie up and we headed over to the Midnight Sun Brewery to take a look and have dinner.
I remain amazed at what Charlie has done with his raven photos. Everybody who reads this blog regularly knows that I photograph ravens when I happen upon them, but Charlie has gone beyond that. Some time ago, he gave himself a mission: to photograph a raven and a stranger every day.
He has done good.
Charlie had a little placard up and in it he gave me the credit for inspiring him to take up a camera and do what he has done. That was nice. He and Melanie should now be driving south, towards Homer, where they are going to join Rex and Cortney on a boat ride to Halibut Cove and then camp out in a cabin for the rest of the week. I hope they catch lots of fish and share with us.
Rex made a kayak and they are taking it, too.
I have written a few times before about how desperate Margie gets for Arizona during the winter, how badly she wants to go back. As always, when I picked her up at the airport, she was happy - no, thrilled - to be back in Alaska.
Of course, winter is over. The sun shines. She would soon greet her grandsons.
Big Thomas was on the go.
The sun does shine - today. But not yesterday, not when I drove to town to see Charlie's ravens and pick Margie up.
Yesterday, it rained.
Dad, top row, third from left, who died on Memorial Day five years ago. May you, your fellow B-24 crew and all the others who fought alongside you for this nation, in this war and others, so many to die in the fight, never be forgotten.
An amazing thing happened last night - I got a really good sleep. Actually it took until well into morning - about 10:45 AM - to get it, but I did. After I awoke, I felt better and more alert than I had felt in - hell, I can't remember how long. I had to go to Abby's for breakfast. Margie was still in Anchorage and I kept feeling very troubled about the horse shadows on the wall that I blogged in my last post.
I just didn't know how the sun could possibly have struck the horse statuettes at the just the right angle to cast the shadows the way it did.
So I went back and figured out the mystery. Today, there was a shadow of only one horse head, but that was enough to trace the light back to its source of origin. I discovered that it was not coming directly from the sun, but from sunlight reflecting at an angle off the windshield of Abby's truck, which was parked in about the same place as yesterday.
Meanwhile, Meda Lord spotted another source of light. Meda was waitressing in Allie's place. The source of light was Colten, Shelly's new baby.
Once again, I had worked out in my head some problems in the project involving the B-24 that I mentioned two posts and one day ago in my head, the one that had vexed me with writer's block for a week-and-half. I felt like I could now write, and write good. I wanted to get right to it, but a totally unanticipated survival problem arose and I had to spend some time to deal with that instead. I believe the problem got solved, but I will not know for certain for a day or two. It is the kind of solution that cost me over $1000 loss in anticipated income, but such is the life of a freelancer.
Once that was out of the way, I started to write. Everything flowed. It felt good. But I couldn't stick with it for very long because I had to put it aside and drive to Anchorage to pick Margie up and bring her home for her three day weekend.
I did not want to go. I wanted to stay put, right here and write. I wanted no interruptions. But I could not leave Margie in town so I got up and went. On the highway approaching Anchorage, I looked in my mirror and saw this guy coming fast from behind. I thought it would make a good picture as he made his pass. I was in the center lane and so rolled down my left hand window in anticipation that he would follow the law and pass to my left.
Instead, he passed to the right. It was a very tough shot because in this kind of situation, a photographer must keep his eye on the road, he cannot raise his camera to his eye, he must rely entirely on his shoot from the hip aim and he must get all of his shots off in half a second. He must rely on his autofocus to grab the subject he wants to photograph, but the right hand window was up, dirty and the camera was most likely to focus upon that dirt.
But, as I have noted before, there are sharpshooter photographers and there are quick draw artist photographers. I am quick draw artist, a regular Clint Eastwood with a camera instead of a gun. The cyclist passed on the right, but my draw was quick, my aim was good and the autofocus found the mark.
As I waited out a red light at the corner of Boniface and Northern Lights, these two boys crossed the road in front of me.
When I arrived at Jacob and Lavina's to pick up Margie, I saw Kalib, peering out the window at me.
Lavina and Jobe returned home shortly after I got there. Jobe grabbed one of many Thomases.
Then I headed for home, with Margie in the passenger seat. As we motored down Lucille Street in Wasilla, I saw this lady, engaged in conversation from the back of a white horse.
We got home about 8:00 PM. I left Margie alone in the living room and charged straight out here, into my office. I still felt good. Words were still flowing through my mind. I returned to the writing I had struggled with for so long and had been interrupted once it finally got going. For three hours, the words just flowed. I feel good about them. Then, suddenly, it was like my brain slammed into a wall. Exhaustion swept over me. I could not write another word in the project. I had to stop. I am not worried, though. I still feel the flow. It will be there tomorrow and hopefully I will have no interruptions and can just sit and here and get it done.
Then it suddenly occurred to me that if I wanted to get a blog post up, and I did, I had better get to it.
So I downloaded the few pictures I took today, selected these six, processed them, uploaded them and then put my fingers on the keyboard, curious, having given no thought to what I might write for the blog. I then sat here for a spell, waiting to see what kind of words would come.
These are the words that came. And of them all, here is the last: one.
To all of my 789,000,018.24449 readers in every country on every continent on the globe and a few beyond it as well - I apologize. I am just too tired to blog tonight. To tired to even explain. Plus I've got a task I've been working on for awhile and I absolutely must finish it before I go to bed and I figure that will take another three hours, maybe four.
I am too tired to finish it, but it does not involve writing but working with photos, so I will play some music loud - maybe the Rolling Stones, Credence Clearwater Revival, The Doors, Beethoven, Bach, a little Mozart, Johnny Cash, Kurt Cobain and Nirvanna perhaps - that kind of stuff: loud, full of energy and heavy; current, up to date, cool and hip.
That should get me through it.