Winter Sun

This blog has gotten off to a pretty slow start for several reasons. One of which is a friend's camera was in the shop and she was desperate to borrow one for her little girl's first birthday so I leant her mine. The other reason is that as the holly day season approaches, I'm extremely short on spare time just now. Thanks for your patience if you have been checking back for updates!

I wrote about whiteouts this morning in my writing blog, the b in subtle. Then I drove to visit my parents this afternoon through some actual whiteouts. It would have been a bit of a harrowing drive, but for the fact that I've been driving this road for close to a decade now and I know it like the back of my hand. I also know how to drive in winter weather. It would appear a lot of other people do not. Not sure what you do about that. Often I think the only thing that keeps me from driving in bad weather is not the bad weather itself, but other drivers who think they are invincible somehow. Bad driving and bad weather is truly a scary mix.

I don't mind driving in winter weather. I don't get panicky. Actually, I kinda love it. The way the snow snakes across the dark part of the road. Sometimes the snow, the way it moves, appears to be figures of ghosts drifting by you, sauntering across the fields. I love winter storms. Sure, I'd rather be watching them curled up in front of my woodstove sipping a mug of ovaltine. But I don't mind driving in them. Thankfully, I have an all-wheel drive that manoevers pretty well.

I shot this creeping slowly towards town. The winter sun was trying to break through the clouds and this tree stood out so vividly against the whiteouts. I love the waterdrops on the windshield as well - they provide a fourth wall and hint at safety/warmth, a nice contrast, I think. This is my final winter driving along this road. It will be nice to remember it through photographs. I will miss it!

The Parrot

In June of 2007, I traveled to Guatemala to do some work with Habitat for Humanity's Global village program. I had ended my common-law marriage of 9 years the previous winter and felt that, since things had kind of fallen apart, it would be good to 'build' again - literally and figuratively. People in North America, I think, can tend to hole themselves up when a drastic life change or potentially depressing event happens in their lives and I didn't want to start feeling sorry for myself at 40, still childless after a long infertility struggle with my ex and suddenly single again. I decided I would go somewhere that would remind me how blessed my life actually is and how very lucky I am. The experience taught me a lot. You go down there thinking, "I can help these people, make a difference." And what ends up happening instead is that they help you. And what a difference this trip made to my life! The people of Guatemala were gracious and warm with wondrous senses of humour. Yes, they had hardship and I wouldn't want to romanticize their poverty in any way. They worked long and strenuous hours and lived in very poor conditions. But they also made the most of what they had and found ways to eke out their own small sources of pleasure to access Joy. This photograph is one example.

While my team were on a rural construction site outside San Marcos, a mountainous region in the West not generally visited by tourists, many of the local children would come to the site to watch us. This girl's name was Lesbia and she brought her parrot one day to the site. This photograph is one I am particularly proud of, especially as I'm strictly an amateur at this game. Animals are so unpredictable and they're very difficult to photograph. They move suddenly and often can end up a blur in an otherwise great shot. I was talking to Lesbia here and asked her if I could take her picture. She was thrilled to have herself and her parrot the subject of a photo. The timing was uncanny because just as I set up the shot, her parrot turned to look at me and the sun came out from behind a cloud and lit them both up. You just don't get the opportunity for a shot like this every day and I admit it was a fluke the way the parrot suddenly turned to look right into the camera as I took it. I'm sure any photographer will tell you that, where photographing animals is concerned, sometimes luck supersedes pure skill (which I don't pretend to have plenty of either). Lucky is how I felt - to have visited this beautiful country and met its amazingly kind and generous people. Generous of heart. Generous of soul. I tried to capture a bit of that in this girl's eyes. I think it worked!

Sunbeam

This was a busy week, but I did manage to capture this shot of the sun lighting up a copse of trees in the distance. Stormy days are a favourite of mine for shooting photos and, surprisingly for November, we've actually had a lot of sunshine lately. But yesterday storm clouds moved in. The sun took a peek out of the clouds for just one moment - long enough for me to snap this. It's a very simple, quiet photo with quite a 'Novemberish' quality: the brooding sky with a hint of possible snow; the absence of green in the trees; the earth laying fallow for its impending blanket of winter. The way the rays specifically shone on this spot reminds me of that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indy uses the staff of Ra to determine the location of the Well of Souls, where the Ark of the Covenant is purported to lie. The sun hits the room and the headpiece of the staff at one point during the day and it illuminates where he and Sallah should be digging. I love to witness how the sun, on days when clouds try to block it, pierces through a stormy sky and shoots a beam so specifically on the surrounding landscape. I'm more spiritual than religious, but it sometimes feels like some kind of golden finger pointing down, touching the trees. A kind of farewell kiss before the frost takes over and a cold, winter wind whips over the field. The sun's promise that he will warm those branches again come Spring. An unexpected blessing from above. Kind of like my own Sonbeam.

Shutterbug

I have always loved photography. Living rurally for close to a decade has inspired me to shoot more of the world around me. I've created 'Behind the milk truck' for two reasons:

1. to showcase some of my personal favourites I've taken over the years: where I live, places I've traveled, some portraiture and, of course, my most recent, favourite subject, my son (see slideshow to the right); and


2. to inspire me to try to publish new photography on a regular basis here on this blog. My initial attempt will be one or two photographs weekly accompanied by a brief blog each as to what inspired the photograph(s). Eventually I intend to make these visual contributions a daily endeavour, especially once I have acquired some better equipment!
   

Meantime, to view my entire photostream on Flickr (a current work in progress), feel free to click on any of the photographs in the slideshow at the sidebar and browse through them all. Hope you enjoy! I will be updating my photography from time to time so please check back!