Road Trip!

We went on a road trip on Sunday.

Headed for parts unknown, but desertish.

One has to be careful with those unknown desertish parts, because here there be dinosaurs.
And something that I first thought to be the Easter Bunny, influenced perhaps by the Easter Sunday stuff all over the car radio. On second thought.... no, I'm not really sure what it is.
But you can buy a lot of petrified wood. Just in case you wanted to.
We escaped the dinosaurs, weird monuments and petrified wood lots and dropped down out of the mountains.
First sign of warmer weather? Saguaros!
Followed by palm trees!
The view from our balcony. Yes, it's a gorgeous warm evening. Lovely.

Missing the Moon

I missed the moon this month.

Back in September, I promised to do a post each month on the full moon. I've hit them all until this month. I don't really know what happened. The Planter's Moon rose on schedule Sunday night. At first I was too early to catch it, then I was too late. I tried to photograph it setting in the morning, but the light was wrong. Here's one of the landscape shots I took while trying to capture the faint moon at dawn.

Some months it's just not meant to be.

I can say that it's been ferociously windy lately and so I haven't been lingering outside. It's a good thing we haven't been planting, because the 40- and 50-mile per hour gusts would have ripped the seeds from our hands. Springtime here is windy. I think of it like lake turnover - all that cold air warming up and rising, a turbulent transition. It will settle soon.

In promise of that, this morning is gorgeous warm and still. Everyone is loving it.

Besides, it's not like any of you called me on it. The full moon. All the blogging advice says you have to keep these contracts, to satisfy your readers. "They" also say you have to keep the same schedule. Then there are the massive exceptions like Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half. She has only posted three times so far in 2011. Her third post, which went up last night, already has over six hundred comments. The love is not lagging.

Instead of the exception proving the rule (how I hate that line), the exceptions prove there are no rules, I think.

And that, every once in a while, it's okay to miss the moon.

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's...

Supermoon!

Which sounds way better than Worm Moon. Poor Worm Moon, superseded by our current love of all things supersized.

In case you live under a rock, this particular full moon was to appear 14% bigger than the "regular" sized moon, because of the moon's proximity to earth. That's a decent amount of moon supersizing. From the left to the right is a 14% increase.

Several people commented they tried to photograph the Supermoon. It doesn't come out right, does it? It's because the cameras still aren't as good as our eyes. This goes back to the "we photograph light" thing. The great big full moon is so bright against the dark sky, that it ends up being just this blob of a spotlight to the camera. No picking up the subtle shadows of the Sea of Tranquility. No gentle smile of the rising moon.

You'll notice the best photographs are the ones where the sky is still pretty light, so there's less extreme contrast. Or, like this one, where a few clouds mute the brightness, allowing for something less than glare.

At any rate, hopefully you got to see it. Lots of people had clouds. Even if you didn't, it was really the same gorgeous moon we see come and go every night and day. The Worm Moon is for the advent of robins and the worms they eat. The soil is warming and thawing. The birds are singing. Yesterday was also the Spring Equinox.

I forgot to mention last month that the Chinese Year of the Rabbit that we just kicked into is also the year of the moon. Here's a neat bit I found:

According to Chinese tradition, the Rabbit brings a year in which you can catch your breath and calm your nerves. Not many people know that the Rabbit is the symbol of the Moon, while the Peacock is the symbol of the Sun, and that together, these two animal signs signify the start of day and night, represent the Yin and Yang of life. It is said that anyone making supplications for wishes to be fulfilled are certain to get what they want... and in the Year of the Rabbit, the wish-granting aspect of the Sun and the Moon combined is multiplied. The Moon is YIN and this is the Yin of Heaven, signifying magic. Thus on each of the Full Moon nights of this year, go out into your garden to gaze into the Full Moon and visualize plenty of Moon dust and Moon glow flowing into you, filling your whole body with bright white light and granting you fearlessness, love and courage. This will not only strengthen your inner "Chi" energy, it will also bring wisdom into your life.

So, go make your wishes on the moon. Catch your breath. Calm your nerves.

Fill yourself with moon dust and moon glow.

Go be fearless and wise.

Supermoon!

Sunsets, Lenses and Second Opinions

This is the same sunset that I posted a picture of on Tuesday. I took the two photos only minutes apart, but with different lenses.

I would say that I was being a good kitty and practicing to see what different lenses would do, but in truth, I forgot the telephoto lens was on there instead of the broader landscape lens. Some of the difference is that the telephoto lens focused in on a smaller part of the sky. But you can also see that the longer focal length (shorter focal length? My college physics professor is shaking his head) changes the perspective so that different shapes and colors predominate.

It's common advice these days to always obtain a second opinion on medical diagnoses. In fact, articles recommend that, if your doctor doesn't like the idea of you getting a second opinion, then that's a big red flag. Patients can be misdiagnosed 25 to 50% of the time, depending on whose numbers you look at. Is this because 25 to to 50% of doctors are idiots? Well... Okay, no no no, it's not. It's because everyone brings a different lens to the table. Where one person sees the whole sky, another sees just one peak against a wash of crimson.

This is why having a writing group or multiple critique partners can be very important. It's not that half of them could be flat wrong. (Well, depends on the CP, eh?) It's more that each reader sees the story through a different lens. What's a glaring problem to one, another breezes right past. It's important to carefully consider the feedback a reader gives you, just as you would a medical diagnosis, but it's equally important to evaluate it in context of how other readers see it.

I was in a writers group for many years where one member would change every single thing anyone criticized about her story. We worked mainly short stories and essays in that group, so the revision process was fairly fast. She brought the same story back to the group several times, looking for that perfect, thumbs-up moment. Finally, on somewhere around the fourth time she brought it to the group, someone pointed out that, as a critique group, someone would always find something for her to fix. This idea she had in her head that at some point we would declare it scintillatingly perfect would never occur. That only she could decide when it was done.

In the end, only one perspective is the definitive one: whichever sings to you.

Wolf Moon

I'd like to take you all on a little Santa Fe vacation today. Come sit on my porch. It's a bit chilly, but we have a heater. Here, you can sit next to it.


Sit with me and watch the full Wolf Moon rise.


I made sure to check the time and paid attention to where the moon rose the night before. Still, at first I wondered if I had it right. Then the sky began to lighten with that silver blue light that can be only moon.

Finally a sliver of moon peeked above the hillside.

This part seems to happen so much more quickly. Even though I know in my head that we are turning faster than it's moving, it still seems like the moon hurries.

Full of light, it brightens the hills.

And the clouds above.

Nearly free of the hills.

And here is where I didn't do so well. Hopefully you're not feeling moonrisus interruptus. See how the focus is already blurring? The moon was so very bright, it took over the lens. All subsequent photographs look like a big white circle in a field of black.

Too bad, because my eyes could see so much more - the subtle shadows of the face of the moon.

I'll get better at this, I swear.

Why I like writing? If, in the morning, the ending looks unfocused - I can always fix it.

The Pain Box

I love the intensity of the color in these begonias, though it's hard to capture. An ongoing effort to replicate what my eyes see.

In photography class, though, I learned that we can never make photographs that come close to what our eyes see, because our eyes are so much more sensitive and sophisticated. I suppose I knew that, but it's important to keep in mind.

I was talking with a writer-friend yesterday about writers groups and people who've come and gone in our lives. She mentioned a gal who'd been in her group and had quit writing when she was "thisclose" to getting an agent.

I said I think that's the most difficult time.

It reminds me of a scene in Dune, Frank Herbert's classic science fiction novel. It's been a while since I read it, so forgive me if I get the details wrong. As a test, the young hero has to place his hand inside of a box. He's told he'll experience excruciating pain in his hand, but if he can withstand the pain and keep his hand in the box, he'll receive a reward he's seeking (I forget what). If however, he tries to pull his hand out, a blade will slice his hand off at the wrist.

Most people can't take the pain and give in to the desire to pull their hand out, losing it forever. Our hero, naturally, overcomes the fear that his hand is being destroyed as it feels, and emerges victorious.

It's one of those scenes that makes the reader feel good about ourselves. We like to think we'd be like the hero. We would know that our hand is okay and why would you give in and yank it out, if the certainty is losing your hand? And yet, deep down, we all know how really hard it is to persevere when fear and pain become overwhelming.

This is why the "thisclose" is so difficult.

The proximity of great reward somehow makes the pain of rejections and setbacks just that much worse. It's really difficult to stay there, with your hand in the box. At some point, losing the hand altogether, so you don't have to wait and suffer a moment more starts to look really attractive.

That's why people quit a lot of things. And yes, giving up on a dream is a lot like losing a hand. Oh, you'll live, but you'll be missing a vital piece of yourself. Something you could have used to do something special.

To all of us with our hands still in the box? Cheers and steady-on.

The Book of My Right Now

Sometimes our dramatic landscape shows itself in subtler shades. Sunday evening's storm reduced the mountains to grayscale, with all of the interesting outlines that brings. This is a piece of the ridged horizon I usually show you, my blog-gobblers, just with different perspective.

(I'm also getting better at my telephoto lens.)

When I was a kid, my mom loved to come down to Santa Fe, Phoenix and Tucson for warm-weather breaks. They were within easy striking distance of Denver and she has always loved the desert. Even then I was struck by the way the light down here makes the mountains look two-dimensional. I wrote terrible poetry in my adolescence, as adolescents are wont to do, and I seem to recall that one line went "the mountains are a cardboard cut-out, propped against the western sky." Good set-design makes you believe a flat is three-dimensional, but the real world doesn't always have depth.

I find it interesting to think about, but maybe that's just me.

Kelly Breaky likes to tease me about my interest in perspective, and I suppose she's right that it's one of my core "issues." I often say I'm a grey-area kind of gal. Very rarely am I willing to commit to the absolute yes or no on a scale.

For this reason, I have trouble with writers who talk about their "Dream Agent" or the "Book of Their Heart." Actually, I never heard the term "the Book of My Heart" until I started hanging with more of the romance community. Granted, we're more about expressions of love and passion than some other genres, but it's still an odd idea to me, that there's one book we've written that we treasure above all others. I loved Obsidian, but now I think The Body Gift is a better book. I tend to be passionately in love with whichever book I'm currently writing, in fact.

The Dream Agent hits me the same way. I don't believe there is such a person for me. I can think of quite a few agents that I think do great work, any of whom I'd be delighted to have represent me. But then, I don't believe in a One True Love, either. I think each of us probably could have wonderful lifelong relationships with any number of people. Each person and relationship is different and brings something new. Sure, we can't fall in love and treasure just any person off the street. But the pool is bigger than just one.

The romantic in us loves the idea of the Dream Agent, the Book of Our Hearts, the Happily Ever After. But the practical person in us, who lives in a three-dimensional world, knows that everything runs deeper than that. What is right now, may not be right later.

All we can do is make the best possible choices, given the information we have right now.

The best part about life and the way it always changes? Nothing is truly permanent. If other paths are meant to be, they'll show up, too.

Just wait for the light to change and show you something different.

We Photograph Light

If I was organized, I'd keep a list of which photos I've used on the blog before.

In fact, feeling a surge of organizational enthusiasm, I just started a spreadsheet to track them. I know you're relieved. Though we walk through the Valley of Chaos, we fear no disorganization, for Excel is by my side.

Okay, yeah, I had fun at the photography class last night.

After I reluctantly dragged myself to it. Working from home, I've developed a disconcerting tendency to not want to leave the house. Not to mention in the evening, after a full day of writing and day job. Somehow it feels like so much effort.

Which I know is lame and pathetic.

Fabulous class, really. One thing I should remember about myself is that I'm an auditory learner. My reading comprehension is decent, but there's nothing like having someone EXPLAIN something to me. Also this guy, Steven Walenta, clearly teaches this Digital Photography class for the Continuing Education end of Santa Fe Community College quite a lot. He had clear, informative slides, took his time and showed patience for all questions.

One of my favorite things he said: We photograph light.

Of course, we kind of know this already, right? We only "see" objects because of the photons bouncing off of them and back to our eyes. So we don't photograph the rain chain, for example, but rather the light bouncing off the rain chain. This changes how you make decisions about your camera settings.

Suddenly it all makes sense to me.

Oddly, I was the youngest person in the class, with the possible exception of a woman with some kind of Scandinavian accent. She also had gorgeous Scandinavian skin, so I'm not positive of her age bracket. The rest of the ladies - yes, all women taking this class - were more in their 50s and 60s. Do the younger people all understand their cameras already? One of my twitter friends, Chudney, suggested that many people don't pursue their interests until later in life and I'm ahead of the game. Which is a lovely spin.

But why no men in the class?

In my previous snarky literary circles, and yes, they were famous for being snarky - that's how you could tell they were literary - authors would bitch about "all the middle-aged ladies" taking writing workshops. Oh, I've seen and heard the most disdainful remarks about how these women have money and nothing to do with themselves. Some of these "vacation-type" writers workshops you see now and again that look obscenely expensive? Yes, targeting this type of student.

The implication, of course, is that these are lesser humans, who will never achieve what the teacher has. But we'll take their money, anyway.

Instead, I find them admirable. They're dragging themselves out to an evening class to learn something new and intimidating. I think I'm overwhelmed by my new camera? How about the lady in her late 60s/early 70s who's never downloaded a photograph to a computer?

I watched Steven move around the room, helping people find the settings on their cameras. Never impatient, never disdainful, even though he must have explained pixels ten-thousand times before, he showed a gift for teaching what he knew. And a pleasure in his subject.

The literary snarks could learn something from this.

Blooming Right Along

The cholla are fulfilling their early promise and have burst into full bloom.

Some cholla more than others, which I never quite understand. It's the same with our desert four o'clocks out front. Ours are big and lush, but haven't bloomed while smaller (and larger) clumps unattended out in the desert are blooming away. There's almost certainly a reason, but I don't know it. In my solipsistic universe, that's pretty much the same thing.

In a similarly random bit of selection, my photos are up on the contest site, but one didn't make it, oddly enough. I'm to give them 48 hours, then we'll see.

I'm confessing right now: I didn't end up using any of the ones suggested to me, though they were all in the pot. I started out with over 30 finalists and culled down to 12. I didn't use the cholla blossom, because there are so many other similar and better photos. I didn't use the Isabel at the horse trough because it wasn't signature New Mexico scenery. I doubt I'll come close to winning anything, especially because I have no intention of asking anyone to vote. I really hate the trolling for votes thing. Soon it will cease to be the thing - can't wait for that day. Swing, pendulum, swing!

Sterling is coming right along. I think I have a real working title now, though I might run it through a few more people. I have one no vote and several enthusiastic yeses so far. I'm reliably hitting 1.5K now. A bit of rest always helps build endurance.

Love these full-bloom days.

A Thousand Words

The desert four o'clocks are in full bloom, lighting up the landscape with their intense purple.

Turns out that the New Mexico Tourism Department is running a photo contest. I think I'll enter, just for kicks. (No, not with this photo.) I can enter five, so if any of you have opinions on the pics you like best, let me know! I put all my best photos on the blog here, so I'll likely pick from those.

I don't expect you to troll through the entire blog archive, unless you're really excited to to it. The New Mexico photos start almost exactly one year ago, which is a serendipitous coincidence, with I'm Just Wild About Harry in June 2009.

After that week, you'd have to skip into July, for the house-hunting trip beginning with Our Eight Lovely Finalists (which are only pictures of houses). Then it's to August and Dances with Quail.

Yeah, I got sucked into reading those old posts. Such with the navel-gazing.

You'd be well-advised just to look through the photos. Or not. BUT, if someone suggests a photo and it wins anything, I'll give you a prize. A gift-certificate to Ten Thousand Waves or to the indie bookstore of your choice.

See? It's not always about writing.

Although, I can't help but notice that the saying is that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I write at least a thousand words a day. That means one photograph is the same as writing my 1K?

Yeah, not so much.

We need to reevaluate that saying.

I Love the Crescent Moon, Shining in the Sky

That's a really pretty crescent moon hanging over sunset's final exhalation last night.

Were I a better photographer, you could probably even see it...

I added a cropped version, for better viewing. But then you lose the scope of the sunset.

I looked into photography classes this weekend. I figured, hey, I'm in the (relatively) big city now, there must be lots of photography-type workshops for me to take. And there are. I even got excited about this one taught by an Outside Magazine photographer and spent time debating whether I could brazen my way through as an "advanced amateur." Turns out they had definitions, and advanced amateur requires the ability to understand the manual settings on your digital SLR camera. Since I'd have to Google "SLR" to discover what it stands for, I figure that's not me. And who knew there were manual settings? Isn't that why we all ditched those huge film cameras for our sleek little point-and-shoots with the nifty wizards?

I know, I know -- my ignorance in this area knows no bounds.

So I determine that I fall into the lowest bracket: Enthusiast. Which I think means I have more enthusiasm than sense. Which actually sounds about right. It's a nice way of patting me on the head and saying, "but at least you try, dear." Besides, nifty workshop with Outside Magazine photographer? $1800 for the WEEK.

Yeah, I know.

Cheapest class I've found so far is $450, and that's the "commuter rate" for another week-long deal.

Suddenly I'm a townie.

Apparently being in the Land of Art means that everyone thinks you're wanting to shell out to be the next Stieglitz. Where is my Saturday afternoon $75 class for enthusiasts who don't know their digital cameras have manual settings?

I might have to resort to a book. Self-study.

Hmmm...maybe I'll even read the camera manual!