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6.23.2008
Whispers in the Wind


Three years ago my friend, Pam attended my daughter’s wedding. On Saturday, June 21, I watched her daughter walk down the aisle and begin a new phase of her life. Pam started out as my housecleaner almost twenty years ago and quickly became a wonderful friend. Two friends of mine, Susan and Sandy were equally lucky to have Pam clean their homes and every spring we looked forward to taking her out to lunch for her birthday. We shared not only the common bond of friendship with Pam but the bond of motherhood as well. Saturday, motherhood was foremost in my mind as we shared a church pew and listened to her daughter say her wedding vows. Susan, Sandy and I had had daughters marry recently and I am sure the memories of those events played out in all of our minds as we saw the rings blessed. We felt we were Pam’s eyes for this event because she was unable to be there.

 

When my children were small, Pam arrived at my house every other Friday to clean and restore a small bit of order…at least for a few days. She watched my children grow from toddlers to adolescents to adults. We shared many talks about family, friends and life. While she dusted or washed the floor she listened to me voice worries about one of my children or vent about some injustice I thought I had suffered and I in turn listened to her concerns about her children or her ailing mom. She was a comforting recurring figure in the routine of my life so it felt good to be able to return the favor when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I brought her flowers, homemade soup and paperback novels to distract her mind. She was an incredible fighter and beat the breast cancer but not the colon cancer that claimed her last August. She was able to help her daughter pick out her wedding dress but was not able to see her wear it Saturday. Watching Pam’s son light a memorial candle for Pam to symbolize her presence during the ceremony was a bittersweet moment. I hoped indeed that she was there in spirit and could see how beautiful and happy her daughter was.

 

The last few days had seen the formation of incredible clouds and occasional storms. Unlike the storms earlier in the month these had not been severe but they had generated phenomenal cloudscapes, especially at sunset. Since there were a few hours between the afternoon wedding ceremony and the evening wedding dinner I decided to grab my camera equipment and chase some clouds. I went home, changed into jeans, threw my camera equipment and “reception” clothes into the car and headed out to wander the back roads. I planned to slowly make my way to the reception hall fifteen miles away, stopping along the way to change into my better clothes after I was done climbing through ditches and walking in muddy fields.

 

As I drove out of town a newly sprouted field of wheat caught my eye. It evidently had been fortunate to survive the weeks of rain. Storm clouds provided a dark backdrop for the neon green field. Most people are familiar with the tawny colored fields of mature wheat but don’t know about the early weeks when the new shoots are almost electric green when touched by the summer sun.

 

 

I jumped out of the car and began shooting with my digital camera as the storm was moving quickly and the scene changing every second. When the storm developed sheets of rain I decided I wanted to shoot it in black and white with my Holga and Rolleiflex cameras also so I ran for the car and grabbed them as fast as I could. I carefully stepped between the planted rows, knelt in the muddy field and shot as the storm passed from right to left along the landscape.

 

I thought it was far enough away for me to be safe but soon I was being pelted with large cold raindrops. I ran for the car hoping I had captured something on film. As the rain fell on the car I slowly reviewed the photos on my digital camera and noticed that in the small viewfinder there appeared to be human shapes captured in the storm clouds. I certainly did not notice them when I was shooting but I could see them now. Of course with my eyes as tuned to the visual as they are I might be the only one who seems to see them but I will include them below to let your imagination have some exercise. Let me know if you can see a figure in one and a face in the other.


 

I thought to myself, “Pam, if that is you I want you to know I am thinking about you and thanks for the incredible day of clouds!” I drove north out of the storm and was soon chasing some solitary clouds to the north and west. It is a challenge in SE Wisconsin to find a bare landscape that affords an expansive view of the sky so when I find areas that work well I mark them on my map. I turned on a familiar road and was able to find a field with grazing cows directly below one of the clouds. More clouds were building to the west forming spectacular sweeping shapes but by this time I needed to be going east toward the reception.


 

I pulled over on a little traveled road to change into my skirt and heels (not easy to do when sitting in the driver's seat) while watching the storm develop to the west. I would have moved over to the passenger seat or the back seat to accomplish this contortionist challenge but my camera gear was taking up all available space. I stepped out of the car in my heels, black skirt and lace blouse to shoot a few last photos.


What a picture I must present- standing in the middle of a road flanked by farm fields, carefully composing an image of distant dark clouds. I stowed my cameras, applied fresh lipstick and arrived at the reception in time for a cocktail before dinner.

 

Pam’s husband, Jim stopped by our group and said, “You know that thunderstorm we got last night with those sharp claps of thunder? That was Pam.” I wondered what he meant by that and/or what Pam meant by that. Was she angry because she couldn’t be here? Was she admonishing him to behave himself and make sure that things would go well today or did she just want all of us to know that she and her fighting spirit were very much here?

 

After a wonderful meal shared with friends, several toasts and some wedding cake it was time to leave, coincidentally just in time for sunset on this summer solstice. Sandy and Susan left a few minutes before I did and Sandy’s husband ran back inside to retrieve me. “Do you have your camera? Hurry! ” I moved as quickly as I could in my heels, grabbed my camera from the car and managed to take a few shots of the rainbow before it disappeared.

Sandy said, “That’s Pam’s doing.” I smiled, thinking, “Well, Jim’s off the hook. She must be happy with how things went today.”

 

My friends drove off to the west and home. I headed north, watching as the clouds to the east and south began to turn pink with the reflected light from the setting sun. I found a wheat field facing south, set up my tripod and began shooting as the clouds grew in color.



I stored the location in my head and reminded myself to mark it on my map. This field will be glorious in a month or so when it turns golden and the movement of its sheaths creates whispers in the wind.

 



End of Day
6.8.2008
Of Dragonflies and Flycatchers

My husband and I and my folks spent the past weekend at our cottage on Kelly Lakeand conditions were right for us to witness the emergence of dozens of fireflies. My fisherman dad sat at the end of the pier, pole in hand while my mom sat on the steps to the pier catching some sun. Being my normal photographer self I of course was taking a few pictures. My Mom seemed to be captivated by something on the rocks beside the steps so I walked down to see what was going on. “Dragonflies”, she said.

 

Memories of summers in Maine were filled with these insects that seem to be a cross between a helicopter and a bi-winged airplane. We called them darning needles in Maine when I was young and I remember hearing the story that if you misbehaved they would sew your mouth shut which evidently I never took seriously. I know for a fact that I misbehaved frequently enough to warrant such punishment but I don’t recall being particularly worried when dragonflies occasionally lit on my arm. They were frequent companions when we were hiking through the fields around our small town and I loved their shimmering colors but I can’t say I ever gave them much thought or wondered how they appeared each summer.

 

My family had a cottage on the lake in our small town in Central Maine and I remember seeing empty bug casings clinging to the side of our pier or on nearby rocks. These papery ghosts could be scary looking when you were little. The cigar shaped bodies with spider-like legs would float away on the wind if you were brave enough to touch them. I never was interested enough to ask what had happened to what was inside these shells. I must have assumed they were what were left of an ugly dead bug.

Dragonfly Nymph


 

 

This morning as I looked at the four or five dragonflies resting on blades of grass and dead leaves I noticed several empty casings nearby and I finally realized that the ghost shells had been dragonfly nymphs. I looked around the area and found several more shells clinging to the sides of the pier and the rocks lining the shoreline. Not far away from them I saw dragonflies resting in the sun waiting for their wings to harden so they could fly away. In the beginning when testing their wings they would only fly a short distance and seemed to land on my mom and I with great frequency. I either moved to the sun until they flew away again or gently moved them onto my finger and set them back on a sunny rock.


There were no iridescent body colors that I remembered from my youth but when the wings caught the sunlight they seemed like glass mosaics.


I know now that dragonflies don’t develop their color until several days after molting. There are over 450 types of dragon flies inNorth America and I am not sure what species these were. I would love to believe they were a Saffron-Winged Meadowhawk or perhaps a Red-Waisted Whiteface simply because I love the sound of the names but they were probably Lake Darners.

 

Dragonfly nymphs can live in the water for up to three years molting several times before they crawl onto land and molt one last time into a dragonfly. While underwater they are veracious predators eating mosquito larvae and even feeding on small fish. As flying adults they feed on mosquitoes and other insects before they die at the end of summer. They are pretty handy to have around.

 

After the excitement of the dragonflies we retired to the deck where we were happy to see our resident Great Crested Flycatcher couple back this year. They appeared to be building nests in two of our birdhouses. They work very closely together and are vigilant scouts for the houses. They take turns perching on a nearby branch and keeping a lookout while the other one flies in with a mouthful of twigs to add to the nest. They were not happy with us being there, chirping angrily at the inconvenience of us but we kept our distance, sitting on the deck quietly reading a book and they got on with their work. I’m not sure why they are building two nests. Perhaps the male is doing it for insurance. “Hon, I built you two nests this year. Pick the one you like the best.” How could he lose?


Later in the summer when the young have hatched we love watching their little heads bob into view as the parents arrive with food. And much of the food that these dilligent parents will feed to their young will include the dragonlies that are just beginning their short lives. The circle of nature never ceases to amaze me. Then in a few months in late summer we will arrive for a weekend to sadly discover all of the activity done and will know that the young ones have left the nest.


My husband's dream for a few years has been to see a pileated woodpecker up at our cottage. It seems everyone else in the family has seen one and recorded it in our bird book. For Buz it has been very elusive. One will fly by our deck just as he has turned to say something to me so he misses it. Driving on a back road one flies in front of the car when he is looking down to adjust the volume of the music. Only a lapse of a second but enough to make him believe I think that we have all been making up our sightings.

Well late in the afternoon on Saturday he called me outside and said, "Listen to this woodpecker!" It was such a loud sound I said, "That HAS to be a pileated!" We tracked down the tree and there the large prehistoric looking creature was, the proverbial 'Woody the Woodpecker' attacking a dead beech tree. Maybe I will be able to capture one with my camera sometime! This image is NOT mine but I included it so you would know what we were looking at!

Hmmmm... now that Buz has crossed this off his wish list I wonder what he will dream for next!
7.31.2007
The Kayak, Me and the Camera


We were at our cottage in northern Wisconsin this past weekend and on the ride home my husband shared a few paragraphs from a book he had just finished reading. It was about a father and his son who sailed the inland passage (precursor to the Intercoastal Waterway) from Massachusetts to Florida and back on a 24 foot catboat in 1912. The father, Henry Plummer kept a journal of the year-long trip and when he returned home assembled 700 handmade copies of a book recounting their adventures. Attracted by the excerpts my husband dangled in front of me, I’ve been lured into reading the third printing of this classic, The Boy, Me and the Cat. If you are not intimidated by the plethora of sailing terms (most of which mean nothing to me) you discover Henry has a lovely writing voice and a great sense of humor. My husband lamented the fact that Plummer never wrote anything else but I am wondering if he wasn’t really lamenting the lack of having such an adventure.

 

Unlike Mr. Plummer, my adventures are of a smaller scale and so is my boat. I don’t haul turtles onboard and make soup of them while marveling at the colors of their shells and the dignity of their heads. And much to the relief of the farmers in the area I don’t shoot stray cattle on shore to further ward off hunger. (Evidently, perfectly legal in 1912) However, every time I slide my kayak into the water whether it is a lake, river or tiny pond it is an adventure of discovery for me.

Pecor Lake

 


This past weekend I explored small Pecor Lake located just a few miles from our cottage in Oconto County, Wisconsin. Though I have a boat loader for the top of my car to hold my kayak I have never installed it so I put down the seats in my PT Cruiser and slide the thing in the back of my car to transport. It’s okay if I am just going a few miles but I do intend to install the top carrier before our trip around Lake Superior this fall.

 

I knew that Lake Pecor was a gem even before I retrieved the kayak from the car because there was tall reed grass growing in the perfectly still water by the boat landing. I spent a half hour wading in the water photographing the patterns that their reflections made while fish nibbled at my feet and toes. Every time I was startled by a bite I jumped, causing ripples in the water and disrupting the perfect reed reflections. I know there are no piranhas in Wisconsinbut a school of adolescent bluegills can create quite a feeding frenzy when there are brightly painted toes in the vicinity. (Note to self- when fishing for bluegill paint a dot of #133 “Femme Fatale” on the worms)


(after a bite)

 

 

I love the shallow draft of my kayak that allows me to paddle close to shore among the lily pads and submerged logs. Though Mr. Plummer’s Mascot had a shallow draft he found himself aground on many occasion due to storms, tidal changes, etc. I haven’t got stuck yet but the wind has occasionally pushed me into shallows where I have rested gently on a soft murky lake bed. This often happens when I am frantically trying to focus my camera as my subject floats out of the frame. A firm push off bottom with my paddle usually sends me on my way.

 

 

On my first kayak forays I only took my Holga camera. It would not be ruined if it went into the water because it is plastic and has no electrical components to short out. Plus it only cost $17 so if I had to replace it, it would not be too painful. As my confidence in the kayak and myself grew I added equipment to the camera bag nesting between my legs. Soon my point and shoot digital and my 35mm SLR shared space with the Holga. And I always seem to share space with a few spiders and miscellaneous bugs....but no four-legged creatures so far. I had a friend relate a story of taking a canoe for the inaugural paddle of the summer only to have a mouse crawl up her leg while well away from shore. Her husband tried to calm her by pointing out how scared the mouse must be to find itself adrift but I don’t think that was of much comfort. I check my kayak carefully each time now before I step in! Perhaps Mr. Plummer was very wise taking along a cat on his voyage but I’m pretty confident it would be more bother than worth in my small vessel.

 

 

I have found each lake has its own personality. Pecor is small, quiet and friendly to paddleboats, canoes and kayaks. Jet skis would be obscene. (Frankly, I find them obscene on any lake.) Though small, Pecor is large enough to host an island that would be fun to explore. I skirted the shore of the lake marveling at the patterns on the submerged branches and logs.

 


I noticed a single stem of reed that bent over the water to form a perfect heart shape. I spent 14 minutes paddling back and forth trying to take a photograph of it. To get a shot like this I anticipate the current/breeze, get in position, gently balance the paddle on the top of the kayak so it doesn’t fall in the water, grab my camera from my lap and shoot as I float into just the right spot. As soon as I put down the camera and grab the paddle I am obviously way out of position for another shot so I begin again. If I want to bracket the exposure or use different cameras this could be an hour long affair- thus the wise choice of a 1-person kayak. It would drive anyone else along for the ride insane. Of course there are the times that I am perfectly in place and realize I forgot to advance the film or discover too late I am totally out of film. I watch the shot drift out of the viewfinder as I not so silently reflect on how stupid I am.Sometimes it’s impossible to get the shot I want and I come to understand the fisherman’s frustration of dealing with ‘the one that got away.’

 

Fish were jumping close to shore as I progressed around the lake and I immediately thought of my dad. I had no idea what the fish were but they made too large a splash to be little pan fish. We would have to come over with our canoe and poles. Maybe we would skip the #133 for the worms and hope for bigger game. I paddled into the center of the water lilies at the far end of the lake enjoying the two different species – one cuplike with butter yellow petals and the second with white spiky petals and a yellow center. I drifted among the sea of green circles listening to the bees gather pollen from the purple flowers on the nearby shore.

 

 

Lith Photograph/ Holga Camera

I took a leisurely paddle around the small island trying to find an easy place to beach the kayak. With the mass of tangled roots and vegetation around the edge I decided to wait until winter and explore the interior with snowshoes. A paddle boat with a young girl and boy passed me as I headed back to the boat landing and my waiting car. We smiled and nodded, not needing to do anything more to acknowledge the beauty of the day.


For more photos in the series go to:
The Kayak, Me and the Camera Set
on my Flickr account.
5.10.2007
In a Fog


Haloed Sun and Sumac



Weather conditions have been right for fog in Southeastern Wisconsin this week. It rolls in from Lake Michigan in the evening, engulfing Milwaukee and other lakeside communities and disperses around 9:30 in the morning. A few miles inland there is brilliant sunshine and if you are enjoying a cup of coffee on your back porch you may be oblivious to conditions on the lake. I like to keep in touch with what is happening by checking the Wisconsin DOT live cameras posted in Milwaukee and Port Washington.

The following photos were taken on a recent morning at Lions Den Gorge Park in Grafton. Some people find fog gloomy but I love the soft light and the dampening of sound. This walk was anything but quiet though because of the constant bird songs that surrounded me. I could not see any of the lake on this morning so my focus was directed to the smaller world allowed me by the encrouching fog.














Marsh Marigolds are in bloom, giving a yellow touch to the wetlands.












....along the cliff walk











on the beach






Trillium are in bloom in the woodlands.
My Flickr Photos
Previous Posts
Whispers in the Wind
Of Dragonflies and Flycatchers
The Kayak, Me and the Camera
In a Fog