The Third Act

...

My brain doesn't want to cooperate with writing this morning.  But it's always easy (well, most of the time) to find something interesting to photograph.  Sure, maybe not inspired, but pretty in any case.  Maybe I'll have something more to write later...or maybe not.

 

 

 

spring rain

Day two of 'RoidWeek 2021...  It's Monday morning and there's a cool spring rain falling.  The pollen is getting washed away, so all the hues of new green growth and multicolored blossoms are popping.

The spring this year has generally been mild.  No extreme lows or snowstorms, just a few unseasonably warm (yet pleasant) days.  This week has a couple mornings forecast to be at near freezing temperatures.  So far, there aren't any tender plants in the garden so it's not a problem for me.  Even if that were the case, I'd be able to protect anything that was small.  I'm grateful for no intensely severe weather yet (even though there was that threat a time or two), since summer usually brings that on.

There is hope in the air.  Of course, it's a mixed bag as always...we live in a complex world.  But that being said, I can feel the collective spirit rising.  There's still work to do (work on so many fronts), but it feels like there's some light ahead.

 

 

'RoidWeek is back, baby!

Dust off your instant cameras and join me at the Flickr group or just come take a look at what folks are posting!

'RoidWeek celebrates instant film twice a year...in April and in October.  While I seem to be obsessively using my Lomo instant cameras (both mini and wide formats) anyway, it's fun to see what other folks are doing with their cameras and film.  I loved my old Polaroids...the Spectra, the 600, and my peel apart Automatic 100, but the film I can afford to use without as much financial impact is Instax and for that I'm using a Lomo'Instant.  

Now, I may have written about this before (perhaps it was just in a Flickr comment), but my Lomo'Instant Wide has issues.  I had one that developed a problem with feeding through the film cartridge blank, within weeks of getting the camera.  I was told by customer service to scratch up the lens, send them of a picture of said scratched lens and they'd send me another camera, which they did.  It was really pretty easy.  I used the second camera for several months before it developed the same issue as the first.  I was told by customer service to follow the same procedure as before.  This is a hassle, but I appreciate a solution.  However, it sure is wasteful considering the camera works fine once the blank is out.  So...I've developed a work around in which I take the camera into a light tight closet, ease out the blank and then load the camera.  I've actually become quite used to the process.  Sometimes, as you'll see in one of my photos, I think this workaround affects the feed/emulsion dispersion in some of the film sheets.  Right now, however, I'm not willing to create more trash and will put up with this until I decide to upgrade...maybe...these Mint cameras are awfully tempting.

Day 1 'RoidWeek 2021...

 

 

 

re-entry

Thursday and Friday were a couple of lovely days.  On the former, a friend was down from NoVA on an errand and we met up at my house, for a garden tour, lunch on the porch and general visiting...lovely all around.  And on the latter, yesterday, I went with another friend (we've both had our first vaccine and have been in a casual pod) on a drive up north for her to pick up some bare root trees from the department of forestry.  We also had lunch together and made a trip to IKEA.  This was my re-entry...sort of...to a more connected life.

This morning, I slept in and have been moving slow.  It's weird, I almost feel hungover (and zero alcohol last night so that's not even remotely a factor).  But the feeling is worth it because I've needed so desperately to spend quality time with other humans.  

 

 

 

 

 

contemplative chillin'

Actually...maybe not all that contemplative (speaking for myself...).  But a bit of afternoon chillin with Avery, on the couch, looking out on what's become a lovely day.

 

 

can ya feel me?

I'm so lucky to have found the photographic medium.  All the other modes of creative expression take more work...often times more energy that I have to give.  Writing...oh, I'd love to be a good writer...one who could make you laugh, or cry, or think.  My writing is better suited to offer a list of what I've done in a day, or the weather outside, or some random short anecdote.  Painting?  I like to play, but I don't have the fine motor control or hand/eye coordination to ever be really good at it.  I'm sure there a multitude of other disciplines out there that I've yet to try.  But I always return to my camera(s) to truly feel at home in conveying a mood.  This being said, my images are sometimes darker than I truly feel...but maybe that says something about my set point!

 

 

 

 

 

 

mundane surprises

Last evening, just as I'd set the corn tortillas with black beans and cheese into the oven, my phone rang.  It was an 804 number, so I knew it was local...thought maybe my appliance repair guy was calling to confirm his service appointment for today. Instead the fellow on the line asked for me by name and said it was Buford Pharmacy calling.  

Earlier in the day I decided to do some diligent research for getting my COVID vaccine.  I'd read that Richmond had opened up to the general public, but Virginia as a state wouldn't be doing so until the 18th of this month...or that was how it seemed to me (county by county?).  It was....confusing.  Honestly, I really didn't spend that much time poking around.  In fact, the only pharmacy site I went to was for Buford, and even there I got the impression that I wouldn't be eligible yet (I think the pharmacy is actually Chesterfield county).  As it turned out, I got lucky.  Someone had to cancel their appointment and I guess I was the person who could get over there in five minutes or so, so the dose wouldn't be wasted.

I turned off the oven, pulled the baking tray out, shut down the mystery I'd just started watching, and raced over to the location.  When I got there, I ran inside, asking where I needed to go for a vaccine.  Apparently they were just about to close.  I asked a woman at the counter to direct me.  I think I was out of breath and kind of hyper, because she (very kindly) told me to calm down.  A nice young man in a lab coat from VCU made the process super easy.  He even had a light touch because I barely felt the needle going in (I commented on this and he laughed and said he'd had a lot of practice).  I think I was still kind of worked up because I almost just blew right out of there until I was reminded to sit and wait for fifteen minutes.

I came home and enjoyed the rest of my evening, marveling at how quickly things can happen, and the mundane surprises that sometimes come my way...especially if I've loosened my grip on a desired outcome.  Today, my arm is a bit sore and I'm kind of tired (but the tired part...it's not that far off from normal for me!).  I'm grateful for this bit of good fortune.  It wouldn't have been terribly long before I would have gotten this done otherwise, but I appreciate how fluidly it happened for me.

Here are some lovely dogwoods on Instax monochrome film.  Obviously, they have nothing to do with my story...

 

 

 

Avery

I once was describing Avery to my then counselor.  I believe I said something like, "She's pretty friendly, but a bit nervous and actually likes to be off on her own a lot."  The counselor stopped me and said, "Are we talking about you or your dog?"  

My trainer, when I lamented that I wasn't able to give Avery what she needed (that one time when I couldn't get her past her nervousness...the early days), told me "we don't get the dog we want, we get the dog we need."  I guess that meant, sticking through challenging situations with our canine charges will teach us something about ourselves.  At least I guess that's what she meant.  I'm not sure if I'm 100% on board with that perspective, but it helped at the time and I get the intent.

It's hard to believe we've been together for almost 7 years.  Time flies.  We've both settled down here, at our little shared homestead.  I'd say she's grown more relaxed, even friendlier...perhaps I have too.

I sometimes think about adding another pupper to the household.  I also realize we're at a good place right now and keeping the status quo for a while isn't a bad idea.  Besides, we have other doggie folks to socialize with and occasionally host such a guest, so we're not totally reclusive.  

 

 

 

 

Sunday morning church...

Sunday church today was in the garden with a clear blue sky and a choir of birds.  There was a hard rain during the night so that this morning, with unobstructed sunshine, all the colors were practically vibrating.  Blossoms and new green growth were contrasted by the dark brown of compost and leaves.  Dotting it all were a multitude of crystalline droplets.  It was the perfect spring morning (although good fortune has offered a number of those this season).

 

 

 

 

 

 

7 years ago...

I came to Richmond, seven years ago today, to see my house for the first time.  I'd made an offer a month or so previous, we negotiated, and had a deal.  All this was done remotely, using a local realtor and Google street view...and all the other resources that the internet offered.  It was...really something for "risk averse" me.  And while I could pontificate about all the "in hindsight" thoughts I've had over the years, I must admit it has worked out well.

At that time in 2014, I needed to get out of the domestic situation I was in.  My ex had stated his need for a divorce two years prior,  but we'd been living together in relative harmony for that duration.  That being said, it wasn't healthy or stress free for me, and I'm sure not for him either.  It was simultaneously too weird and yet too normal.  It's not an understatement to say that this was the most traumatic situation I experienced in my life.

There was a lot of mulling over the best course of action to take.  The bay area then (as it continues to be) was prohibitively expensive.  I'd been a stay at home mom and sometimes experimental artist, and my earning potential was modest.  I knew I'd have spousal support for a finite number of years and given what I knew that number to be, I needed to find a place that would still offer me a reasonable opportunity to live in a way that I'd been accustomed (not fancy, or extravagant...just comfortable and safe).  Rather than watch any financial assets I had evaporate in rent (a rental was something that I wasn't even sure I'd be able to procure in the area at that time) I figured I could take my half of the equity in our house and buy a simple home here in Richmond, to give me shelter while I pulled myself together.  

Why Richmond, VA you ask?  Well, everyone asks this.  I did not, in fact, throw a dart at a map of the U.S. on the wall.  Over the years I'd gotten to know folks on the east coast through Flickr and had made some trips out to the region.  It was different than the west coast, of which I had been a resident for my entire life (the only exception being a stint in Phoenix for nine years).  I liked the idea of getting to know a different area, climate, and history.  The change I was facing was so enormous, I guess I just figured I'd make it even bigger. 

I can't deny that while growing up in California as a child, I'd often wondered what it was like living some place else.  This isn't to say the decision was easy...it broke my heart to leave the west coast, particularly northern California, which I still find one of the most magical places on earth (okay, so I haven't traveled much).  In addition, it has been a profound emotional challenge at times, being so far from my kids and family.

Over these seven years I've hemmed and hawed about moving back to California.  There are times when I think I can't stand being so far away from my beloveds, both human and geographical (I do miss you my dear Pacific ocean) and there are other times when I realize how deep my roots are sinking out here in Virginia.  I've grown to love the birdsong echoing in the tall trees that surround my home.  How, starting in the spring, the avian chatter grows from a few solo calls to a rousing chorus at some point in the early morning.  The colors of the trees in autumn feed my spirit.  The (less and less plentiful) snowfalls in winter fill me with delight.  Richmond has grown on me as well, an eclectic and fairly progressive mix of arts and ideas...struggling to come to terms with its past....far from perfect, but what city isn't?  It's been heartening to see the growing list of small, organic farms and food producers out here, as well.  Virginia will never be the fruit basket of the nation, but its holding its own. 

So, will I ever move back to California?  I don't know.  Right now after well over a year of not being able to visit the Golden State, I'd be happy for an extended stay for a couple weeks...and then come back to this eastern homestead.

This little abode of mine, seven years in my care, has allowed to me to express myself in ways that have been healing and enriching.  I love my red walls and mix of artwork...some my own, some from friends, and some from family.  My furnishings are a hodge podge of Costco and funky vintage/antique...which suits my different than average sensibilities.   The garden, however, is where I really shine.  It's been years in the making and continues to evolve.  When I have no patience for any other creative endeavor, working with plants and soil will always give me a healthy outlet.

So...happy anniversary, Baba Yaga's House (i.e., my home).  Thanks for sheltering me for seven years and helping me to emerge into my ever fine tuned, authentic self.