Winter Is Coming

We had a lot of snow this winter.  It started in earnest with a surprise snow squall during a morning commute in January.  I generally listen to podcasts as I drive around the state, but that morning I turned on Glenn Gould's iconic 1955 recording of the Bach Goldberg Variations, and felt the music flow around me as I drove through the snow.

By February, the snow from weekly (often Monday) storms was piling up in our driveway.  For the most part we shoveled the driveway ourselves.  We are registered for a half-marathon in April -- neither Amy nor I have ever run that far -- so the exercise was welcome (although the winter conditions made road running a little complicated.)

We had an extraordinary number of weeks when we could cross-country ski in the woods behind our house.  We continue to extend our apologies to all of you who were unhappy with all the snow; some of us really enjoyed it.

Amy was particularly vigilant about using the roof rake to take the snow load off the house, and minimize ice dams.  But almost every home owner we know had water coming in the house at some point.  (Jon and Alice, we hope your bedroom ceiling gets fixed soon !)

Finally, last week, most of the snow melted away in a series of warm days and rainstorms.  The winter aconite, started from a few plants given us over 20 years ago by my grandmother, bloomed all over our back garden.

The deer had a tough time finding food this winter, with so much snow cover;  by last week they seemed quite happy to forage in our back yard.

Today I slept late.  When I woke up, came downstairs, and greeted Amy, I had to ask:  "Did I sleep until December ??"

Still Spring persists and will have its day.  Even on cold mornings there are flocks of birds loudly calling to each other in preparation for nest-building and mating.  Ah, well ... this last bit of white will soon melt, not to be seen again until next December !

The Purpose of Thanksgiving

You're saying, "What??  Huh ??"  Either because, hey, it's Christmas and here's this Jewish guy posting Thanksgiving photos.  Or you're thinking, "Isn't the purpose of Thanksgiving, like, duh??"

OK, fair enough.  But here's my train of thought:

People are very generous at Christmas, both to their family and loved ones, and to others who are in need of some generosity.  There's all the year-end-charitable-giving, and the gift giving, and the baskets for the homeless ... The thing is, people without money are poor all year round.  Don't get me wrong, the year-end charity is really helpful, but really people need help the rest of the time too.

Similarly, Thanksgiving.  Really?  You live the blessed life you have and you're going to be thankful once a year? 

On the other hand, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite moments of the year.  So, why?

First, because we go to my brother Eric's house and he arranges for the snow to fall in just the right way to make it really pretty out.

Second, I make sticky buns for Thanksgiving -- the same recipe my Mom used to make, which we both got from the Woodbine Cottage, a now-closed "home-style" restaurant that used to be in Sunapee, New Hampshire.  I love sticky buns.  I usually make them one or two other times in the year, but I always make them for Thanksgiving, and I love to eat them.

Apparently others like to eat them too.

Third, all these great people show up (my family).  And then we eat delicious food to excess.  It's perversely helpful to eat too much sometimes, as long as you notice "hey, this is what unrestrained eating feels like, it's not completely pleasant, and I don't think I'll do it again for awhile."  But those tastes in the mouth are sooooo gooooood...

If it was only one plate this full that would be one thing.  (Actually Amy avoids the excess thing, which I don't completely get.)

Then everybody plays a board game, either because they like board games, or because they're just passing time until it's time for dessert.

Then it's time for dessert.  In my family, we really like dessert.  And there's a lot of good cooks.  So we have a lot of really good desserts.  Delicious excess, part two.

It's all pretty great.  And I didn't even include the walks, or Sasha the wonder-dog, or the great stories, or the old family photos.  As I said, it's one of my most favorite holidays.  And in a world full of people who don't have homes, or food, or family, or health, it's a lot to be thankful for.  Every day.

(Blueberry pie by Sarah and Rebecca.)

Galapagos

In June, we had the opportunity to go to the Galapagos Islands, with all of Amy's family.  We had been there 27 years before, and this trip was just as amazing.  The scenery is gorgeous, and many animals fearlessly allow you to approach quite close, because they have no natural predators.  Human interaction is closely supervised and regulated so that it also is not threatening.

Above: one of many giant tortoises we saw.  (We also spent an hour kayaking with numerous sea turtles, but they were much harder to photograph.

There were sea lions on landings, on beaches,

and in the water.

The snorkeling was wonderful - we saw all kinds of brilliant fish.

The male and female gulls swapped egg-sitting duties, a couple feet from the trail, giving us a good look at their progeny.

The male frigate birds puffed up their display pouch, and clacked their beak against it to attract potential mates.

Many islands had large land iguana populations

as well as marine iguanas swimming and crawling up out of the sea.

A pair of blue-footed boobies demonstrated their courtship dance.  (We also watched them dive-bomb into the water, seeking fish!)

There were beautiful sunsets

and incredible ocean views.

We saw the penguins that live further north than any other (a result of the cool currents that bath the Galapagos Islands).

An incredible venue for Amy's parents' 60th wedding anniversary!

More spring

A couple weeks ago we saw pink ladyslipper orchids in Connecticut.  This week they're in bloom in New Hampshire !  Along with lots of other flowers of the woods and field.

I don't think ferns really have a "flower" but the brown parts are, I believe, trying to do something reproductive.

The green moss on the path made me think of Bilbo Baggins.  "The Road Goes Ever On," etc.

I now know that this is a juvenile Eastern Newt, and that these juveniles are called "Red Efts."  Eft is defnitely a great new scrabble word.

Some of our favorite flowers are those that will result in fruit, some weeks later.  The blueberries,

and the wild strawberries.

There was a lot of water from the recent rains.

: )

Late Spring - New England shore

Last weekend we went for a great walk with our friends Jeff and Linda in Stony Creek, a part of Branford Connecticut near the shore of the Long Island Sound.  We started by a pond that emptied into a rushing stream (it might not have been in such a hurry except for the several pouring rains we have had this spring).  From there we started scrambling up boulders.  The dog got an assist (hauled up by the collar) but I preferred to manage the top without help.

As I got to the top of the boulders, behind the others. I heard gasps of amazement.  I wasn't sure what to expect.  But it was a gorgeous stand of Pink Ladyslipper Orchids, placed by Nature to reward the intrepid.

From there, we enjoyed an hour of more common spring woods hiking in New England, the flowers and leaves still showing their early color.

Some kind of blight (animal? vegetable?) was also showing its enthusiastic early color.  But only in one spot; the woods seemed healthy and well.

From the woods path, we reached the marshland towards the Sound. From boulders to woodland to bright sunny marsh, we walked through a remarkable diversity of landscape considering the small patch of land in the middle of coastal Connecticut.

The osprey were feeding their chicks in the nest by the marsh, soaring into action when an invader threatened and had to be driven away.

A wonderful and beautiful hike with friends! Then ...

off for omelettes and toast at the Stony Creek Market !!

What you see ...

(Photo taken as Amy and I returned from an evening walk on snowshoes this winter.)

A report was published recently about the impact of cameras in how people see the world.  Dr. Linda Henkel was interviewed about her experiments in which she asks undergraduates to view a set of objects in a museum, and randomly assigns them to photograph some of the objects, and simply observe others.  She found that the students were less likely to remember the objects they photographed than the objects they observed, and she calls the result "the photo-taking impairment effect."  In the interview, Dr. Henkel does also describe circumstances in which taking a photograph can aid memory (taking a photograph of a detail of an object; or subsequently reviewing the photographs).

Many of us who take photographs have had moments when we put our cameras down, so that we could "see better," by which we mean experience what we see more deeply or intensely.  I have certainly had moments when, as Dr. Henkel's research suggestions, I felt that my camera was "between" me and the real world.

And yet... and yet.  When Rebecca and her dear friend Siobhan performed their Senior vocal recital, I was glad that someone else was in charge of video-taping.  I took a few photographs afterwards, but not during the performance.  Even so, I had the strangest feeling during the evening that it was impossible to take it all in.  I was trying to feel the emotional qualities of the performance, and listen to the grace with which it was performed, and sense the intent of the composer, and then was remembering when Rebecca was a little girl, and then wondering what she would be like as she got older ... and I just couldn't do it all.  I found that the best I could do was to pay close sequential attention to whatever aspect I was experiencing, and be open to the range of observations as they came. The point, as it relates to photography, is this:  all our experiences are "flattened" versions of the multi-dimensional world in which we live.  Photography is only one kind of filter.

And then there's my photograph of the dining room in the William Martin House designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, in Oak Park on the west side of Chicago:

Only it isn't really the dining room of the William Martin House; it's a photograph of a tiny replica of the room, part of the brilliant collection of "miniature rooms" in the Thorne collection of the Art Institute of Chicago.  Two apparently identical photographs can depict two very different scenes.  And isn't that memorable?

But for me, the greatest virtue of photography has been the way it has changed how I see the world, at least some of the time.  Sure, the camera sometimes gets in the way. But other times I see a scene, and become fascinated by the lines, or the differences shown by different angles, or even just the awesome beauty of the world around us.  And so it was a few weeks ago, after the clocks had changed and suddenly we had sunlight later in the day.  I was leaving my office, looked out the conference room window, and stopped.  I could have looked and then left; but instead I spent awhile staring out the window, eventually opening it and taking out my camera.  I was wondering, "Can the camera capture the beauty of this scene?  Can a photograph convey it to others?  Or do you have to be here right now to see what I am seeing?"