Storm Offerings

Sometimes it seems that nature can read the calendar. Perhaps it does. Yesterday, September Eve, the last day of August this year, seemed to celebrate by ending in a very big storm. The thunder was deeper than usual, the rain heavier and more windblown. It was exhilirating! Then this morning—first of the beautiful month of September, the one who holds autumn—the air was the coolest it has been since spring. The day has remained moody and grey. A respite from summer’s heat.

When I sat outside in the morning sun, I noticed storm offerings laying around me on the ground.

Tonight is a full moon, in the sign of Pisces, the pinnacle of water in the zodiac.

Yes, nature reads the calendar and the stars.

A Job

When I moved to New Mexico, I spent a lot of time writing and walking in the mountains where I lived. I also took a lot of photos, but I used my phone to take them and the endeavor was not usually the center of what I was doing. More than anything, I was experiencing what was in front of me, then writing about it to share with others. I always felt that the photos were beautiful, because it is beautiful here and it’s quite difficult to take a bad photo, but they just did not effectively convey the power that is felt here. They could get sort of close, I suppose. This always made me a bit reluctant to photograph a lot. I would often think ‘I just can’t get that feeling across’, and why become bogged down with a heavy camera—it’s so hard to jump around and keep light feet along the dirt paths that way.

My eyes look at what is around me with a storyteller’s gaze. I want, so much, to share the feelings I get when I am moved by the world. I wish I could zap them into your being. I become very moved in turn by others who do this well, and I know that amazing things can grow from us by being inspired in such a way. It incites action.

Sometimes I see it as my duty, to those who will listen and to the earth itself, to work to instigate the deep inspiration, healing, freedom, and love it is possible to experience from the natural world. Other times I feel that is quite a lofty goal, but maybe it isn’t. I am starting to think more that I must share these things, for they are a sure antidote to everything that ails us!

Lately, my camera has been the way that feels really really good to do this. Compiling moments into film brings a level of reality that is increasingly needed as time goes by, in order to actually capture our fleeting attention and make the desired impact.

Sharing in someone’s experience of the world through the art they create is a way we can experience energy moving inside of us. We say, or think: I am moved. Then we act upon that. If the artist is making their point, they really strike up feelings in their audience. The feelings I want to touch are those that spark and strengthen a love for this beautiful, amazing, miraculous place we call home, our blue planet spinning through the stars. A love that makes us act, because there is a lot we need to do.

When I am out with my camera and forging small stories into movies, I am working to get to a place where what I make can be the means to inspire. This is what I am working on. This is my job.

Summer Sunday

I have been spending much time filming the flowers, the moonrises, and the animals who visit. When I first started using this camera, I was so excited and would film a little bit and make a movie; go out, film some more for a day, make another movie. I am still just as excited, but I have also spent more time collecting clips, over many days, to put into a movie. It might not sound like two very different things, but it is. I like learning the different workflows. So I’m excited to start working on putting the past week or two into a little movie I think will be called A Garden of Friends.

I’m compiling clips of the times I work on knitting my sweater, too, so that people can see how I make one. The first video is on Youtube, if you’d like to see. I’ve gotten a lot done it on it because the thick winter wool knits up very quickly! I’ll be doing the sleeves this week (and maybe next week too, I have long arms).

I hope you are enjoying these last days of summer. I feel a little bit of a sadness when I look at the flowers in what is now called The Fairy Garden. I know they will be around only until the first frost, maybe a bit before that, and then they are gone until next spring and summer. It feels silly being sad because this happens every year, and I know that. I also love every season! I love the joy the flowers bring to each day, and I will miss it. I had no idea when we planted their seeds that they would be the sort of focus where I’ve learned how to use the camera. So they’ve been my companions in that totally exciting and hopeful endeavor. Blooms watching blooms.

Night Winds

It was very calm this evening and suddenly a huge windstorm blew in, out of nowhere! It was a great surprise. I love when the weather gets a little wild. This wind will hurt your eyes for all the dirt it blows around. The tall sunflowers, who are still hanging on to summer, are bent almost to the ground! That is very strong gusty wind. I had to open my bedroom window wide and figure some quiet things to do so I can deeply enjoy the windy night. The chimes clang in the trees.

A wool sweater and a Russian fairytale that takes me in dreams to forests deep

The waxing moon rose above the pinon trees.

I really think there are endless photo compositions possible in the tiny fairy garden I love so much. Some simple white flowers that I say sing and inspire all the others to bloom. These arrived first out of the seeds that were planted, and they keep blooming. Every time new blooms come, a couple of days later more flowers open up, in a full rainbow of colors! Magic. I thanked them.

The Hummingbird Who Wanted Its Picture Taken

I went outside to get some photos of the moon. I heard a hummingbird buzzing right behind me, the sound of its wings so close I knew it was only several inches from my head. I turned very slowly to try and not frighten it. And there it was, hovering, so near I could see its endearing gaze. It flew a few feet away to sit on a pinon branch. There it started to preen, ruffling its feathers all up until each one lay perfect in every tiny spot where they grew. I had time to find his sitting spot with my camera lens, focus upon him, fine tune, and then he seemed to smile right at my camera. I was so giddy, and I thanked him very much. He flew right toward my head singing a song then flew off into the twilight sky.