Suitcases Dusted Off

With our departure on May 6th just around the corner, I felt compelled to give everyone in the house the illusion, at least, of my organizational and packing skills. The truth is, I am pretty near ready. I only have to charge all the batteries for my camera, pack the tripod and chargers, get the medications from the pharmacy, haul out the shorts, tee shirts and bathing suits, make sure our sneakers and sandals are in good order, pull together the laptop and card reader, make sure my husband's blazer, tie and my dress are clean, decide which earrings are going, remember to put any liquids and creams over a couple of ounces in the checked luggage, decide what goes in the carry on and last but not least, grab the passports and directions to the Wolf Sanctuary. Now, to some people, it may seem like a lot left to do, but the truth is, the suitcase is in the bedroom and every time I think of something that will be needed, I grab it and toss it in. We'll be a week in Tobago, a week in Florida and 4 days at sea. I plan on having quite a few photos of waterfalls, rain forests, sunrises and sets from Tobago. I am really hoping the wolves will cooperate in Naples, FL and all I really care about on the cruise is that my drinks are cold and my food is hot. I will be flexible with everything else. I do expect my yard to be in a much more photogenic condition when I return. For now, I have to be satisfied with another nice image of grape hyacinth.

Getting The Urge

We finally got our taxes done. It's not that my business empire is so huge, because it's not, it's just that it does take a lot of time to count all of those mats and frames. I am always amazed when I start plugging figures into my spreadsheet. And, if I only had that $10,000.00 that my figures tells me is sitting in my studio, well I'd probably be on my way to the camera store for that lens I mentioned I could really use. each time I look wistfully off into the distance knowing I can't bring that subject close enough or try to get a saleable image of an eagle or a bull moose, I mutter to myself the same thing. "Have to have that bigger lens before I head off to Alaska or Africa. It will be a waste of time, money and effort, otherwise." So, now the numbers are in the hands of the accountants and I'm getting the urge. The urge, you see, is for all of the snow to be gone. It's going, but no soon enough for me. The sap is running and I know that new life is just waiting to burst upon the scene. I can't wait until I can hang up my heavy jacket, put the boots away and start wandering the countryside in search of that first new baby whatever, the first daffodil, the first moose calf, anything but dirty snow banks and muddy brown lawns.

Misty Mountains

After traveling for hours, we arrived at the base of Mt Rainier and drove higher and higher through old growth forests and past pristine waterfalls only to stop amongst thick stands of moss draped trees which created a canopy for the lush ferns growing at their feet. The sun played with us most of the way to where we were headed; a place called and aptly named Paradise, the highest drivable point on the mountain. We stopped at a trail crossing for the Nisqualy River, a fast moving glacial runoff which had a log bridge place over one of the narrow channels. We could hear boulders being tossed about in the milky green water just below our feet. When we finally arrived at Paradise, the mountain seemed to be playing cat and mouse with us. First we could see the lower slopes and then they disappeared in the mist. The decision was made to wait a bit in hopes the weather would clear but a few minutes later, the clouds rolled in and visibility was dropped to about 50 feet. We knew the mountain had won and we descended through Stevens Pass and on to our hotel for the night.

Weather Woes

Over the years, I've come to terms with the fact that I cannot control the weather. Even when I consult the experts, my plans sometimes need to be put on hold. This is one of those days when the gloomy skies have turned against me and the mirrored glass like surface of rain puddles dance with droplets. On Sunday, the weather was perfect. We headed off to hike into Champney Falls but when we arrived at the trailhead, the parking area was alive with activity. I should have expected it. The weather was cool and those miserable little black flies haven't woken up yet. When they do, their appetite will be voracious. Anyway, The types of photos that I wanted didn't include dozens of hikers and we didn't have the time to wait for the area to clear. I had to be at Artistic Roots in Campton for 2:00. Our next stop was Sabbaday Falls, a short and very scenic walk into a narrow gorge filled with a fast moving waterfall that takes an abrupt 90 degree turn mid flow. A sign tells of a basalt dike against the right side of the gorge that prevents it's erosion. At the base of the falls is a naturally formed bowl or basin that has been carved over time by the force of the water. Here, in the shadows of the steep rock walls, there is still ice. It has the look of decaying flesh, rotting and imperfect. The warmth of summer will eventually claim it's victory and the ice will vanish, adding it's water to the torrents. Still, it's there, for now, and provides a chill to the air. The walk is relaxing and there were few other visitors to be kept safely on the path by heavy railings. One of these days, I may muster up enough nerve to cross these barriers to get an unobstructed image, one that the average visitor won't have.