Wednesday was Rocco’s 1st birthday! so we squeezed in a quick trip to the off-leash dog park to celebrate. We are blessed with a cadillac of a park nearby – huge and forested with hiking, swimming, and plenty of running for our pony of a pup.
While he has been a challenge at home, he is universally good-natured at the dog park: he loves everybody. Rocco’s favorite thing is finding another dog to chase him. My favorite part is the way the terrain brings out the mountain dog in him. He’s genetically predisposed to navigate the steep, rocky hills with ease.
We may not have a coast here in the upper midwest but we aren’t exactly landlocked. The Mississippi River, so elemental to our very being, connects us. To humble origins. To every river town along the way. To dear friends down stream. And, eventually, to the rhythm of the tides.
It’s kind of like having a good friend who lives so far away that you almost never see them. It’s still good to know they are out there.
Give us 84 degrees in the City of Lakes and we will hit the beach. It was a beautiful May day for playing hooky, lunching at Sandcastle, and watching the waves with my favorite beach bum, even if we didn’t get our toes wet.
My eye is drawn to pattern. But it is the flaw or abnormality that makes it truly interesting. In theory, tire tracks in the sand should be ordered, regular; I like how the tracks don’t hold. The relative strength or weakness of the impressions. The mild disturbances. The parts that are missing. There is so much to see (even when there is nothing to see).
Photographic wisdom states that the best conditions for taking pictures involve a bright, overcast sky. While sunshine seems like it makes everything pretty, it actually washes out colors and casts harsh shadows that don’t look great in pictures.
But on this day, the sun was shining and the sandpit is like an expanse of desert; there was no way around shooting in full, blinding sunlight. Then, while I examined my options, I suddenly realized that the shadows themselves were really interesting and rather than avoiding (or cursing) them, I started seeking them out as subjects.
This little grouping of images has been in my mind for some time. I keep thinking it would make a great gift for the eccentric angler on your Christmas list. But there is something here for everyone. I imagine sitting by the fire contemplating either the next big catch or the meaning of life.
There is something poetic about these photographs. The natural elements of Fin & Feather express the transience of life. The tangled web of Fishing Line left on the beach may evoke feelings of confusion but the graceful organic composition of the line itself is a meditation on tranquility. And, those glowing fish striving to make their way Upstream speak to me of the force of life, the biological imperative that drives every living being to exist, to survive, and to continue.