pictures

I remember in my teen's going with some friends into an art gallery/store at the coast and being escorted out because I had verbalized the fact that I simply didn't get it. A stick figure in black, drawn on a white sheet 8.5 x 11 selling for $50. No, I still don't get it. I'm not saying I don't get art. I deeply love the spider people my daughter draws for me, all head with legs and arms. Or perusing my son's school work and finding chickens with turbo, rocket packs flying through outer space, being fired upon by missiles. That's the art I get. It comes from the mind and inspires thought.

As I finished locking up the girl's last night, Chloe and I settled in to a game of football when my large feathered friend flew onto the tree across the street. I could have, like my neighbors kept about my business, raking leaves, mowing grass, but that's not me. Dismissing the voice that say's your neighbor's are going think you're even crazier, I got my camera. Propping myself in ten different angles, trying to steady it on the fence and simply waiting. When I viewed the pictures later, I see an owl. But there's more. He's huge. He's waiting. He's alone. He's imposing. He's feared and he's watching, me. I look at a photograph and read a million things into it. Maybe it was my dad taking me to an Ansel Adam's exhibit when I was too young to supposed to care. Or the many wedding's I helped him shoot. I can't seem to wrap my post-kid brain around aperture or exposure so I'm a slave to pre-programed settings and perfect moments but that's OK. I'm learning to be patient and spontaneous at the same time. I'm looking at this world and actually seeing it. Maybe it was the conversation earlier with a friend, asking how I'm really doing. Not wanting to hear the standard fine, great, hangin' in there, but actually wondering about how. I'm. doing. that made me run for my camera. The answer takes some thought and when I said, I'm doing good. I meant it. When I saw my imposing friend perched atop his tree, I thought how I'm not alone. I'm not under someones thumb anymore, being ruled by fear, scurrying this way and that. I thought, you may be big but I can take ya', I've got three kids, the only people I fear are those with four.

Hubby made Gumbo last night, Seven Hills Riesling went nicely, enough acid to cut the thick soup and enough sweet to balance the heat.