Category: winter

Keeping that eye sharp

I had a phone call recently with my photography teacher. She’s invited me on a photo field trip with some of her more advanced students (more details to come) and I’m oh so very honored and excited!

So, in preparation, I gotta keep that ol’ eye and technique sharp.

Lacking for much inspiration yesterday, I went for a walk around my yard.

You know, I don’t usually look at what is going on in my own yard unless there is something blooming or very unusual.

But even in winter there is some beauty to be had.

Here’s a few shots from yesterday (click on photo to see large version):

Our gnarled, unkempt rose bushes that still manage to put on beautiful roses all year round.

Remember my persimmons? They are still hanging in there long after the leaves are gone. That is a persistent fruit!

The neighborhood wild animals really like that the persimmons are ripe. This keeps them thriving so they can continue to knock over my trashcans every night. *sigh*

Lemon tree in my neighbor’s yard. Freakishly large lemon!

My landlord *hates* the clover, and yet every year, the clover defeats the landlord. I understand why he hates the clover, it chokes out everything…but it is kind of pretty too…

Our next door neighbor was so happy when he moved in and saw the yard. He was fired up to plant a garden. Then he got crazy busy at work and the poor tomatoes languished.

(the light was so interesting that you can actually see my reflected outline in the tomato skins if you look close at the large photo)

And finally, there is this. My insane muse, my hungry observer, the cranked up feline sitting in the window yowling at me while I worked. Nice background music….not.

Please have what and mistletoe?

I’m a confirmed child of the West. I’ve lived all my years well to the left of the state of Texas.

As such, that means that these concepts of “winter” and “Christmas” mean a little something different than they do in all the songs I’ve been listening to today.

Yes, I admit, I succumbed to Christmas music today.

Ever since I was a kid, while I did like the ol’ Christmas tunes, I pondered about how many of them didn’t apply. And it’s not just about the weather.

Let’s take a look:

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” Yes. But not here.

It was over 60 degrees today.

“Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh…”

Well. Again. No snow.

No horses dashing around much either.

“Frosty the Snowman.” Nope.

However, there used to be a house in Albuquerque that had a flocked tumbleweed snowman in their yard every year, so this is a maybe…

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.”

I don’t even know what the hell that means.

Marshmallows roasting on an open fire? Yes please! With chocolate and graham cracker.

As an aside…to celebrate the anniversary of the day we met, The Good Man took me to stay in a Ritz Carlton Hotel at the beach. It is a beautiful and very high class establishment. One of the features of our room was a fire pit on the back porch, intended, I’m sure, to sit by, stay warm, and gaze romantically at the ocean.

To show just how classy we are, we cooked marshmallows over that fire pit…. One of the best nights of my life!

But I digress.

“Tis the season to be jolly…fa la la la, la la la la…”

Um. Huh? Cuz I’m looking around at all my fellow mankind and I can tell you that “jolly” is *not* what people are feeling this season.

“Fa la la la bite me” is more the mood out there.

“We three king of Orient are, sharing gifts we travel so far…” Well. Ahem. “Orient” isn’t really politically correct these days.

“We three kings of the Pacific Rim” or “We three kings of AsiaPac” is probably more appropriate.

“Silent night, holy night” Hmph. Silent, eh?

Not after I’ve had a couple glasses of holiday cheer. Nope, then it’s snoring night, drooling night. I sure can’t handle the booze anymore…

But when it comes to good old fashioned spiked egg nog, I’m helpless.

So for The Good Man, ain’t no silent.

“Silver bells, it’s Christmastime in the city.”

Ok. Sure. Those Salvation Army guys and gals are working the bells. I’ll give you that one. Check.

We got one.

I won’t EVEN go down the list from the Twelve Days of Christmas.

But if my true love gave me swans, French hens, partridges, milk maids, leaping lords and pretty much any of the items other than the five gold rings, we might have to have a little conversation about “did you keep the receipt.”

And that little drummer boy can take his pah-rumpa-pum-pum up with the judge because I’m calling in a noise complaint!

Which pretty much leaves us with “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.”

Fair enough!

Now I know it is Christmas

Oh yes, for me the season has finally begun.

Is it the tree that I put up over the weekend and decorated?

Nope.

The presents I am crafting for family?

Nope.

Nailing down dates and times to spend blissful holiday time with family and friends?

Nope.

It is just one thing.

My first full hearing of the song:

Feliz Navidad by José Feliciano.

Oh yes. I love this song. I love José.

THIS is Christmas to me.

And as I rock out at my desk right at this very moment…

I remember with mirth my former boyfriend who *hated* this song.

Born in Encinada, he felt that José’s epic hit holiday song was insulting to his people.

Despite the fact that José is from Puerto Rico.

Whatever.

Because he hated it, I always turned it up a little louder and enjoyed it a bit more.

And now living in brighter days married to The Good Man who doesn’t try to censor my musical tastes, I can once again truly enjoy José’s hit unencumbered.

Here’s a video from 1973. Gotta love it!

Feliz Navidad!!

I happen to like New York

This winter, the holiday season, has me profoundly missing New York.

Well sure, you might say, New York in December is beautiful!

And I’m sure you are right.

Only, I’ve not been to New York at the holidays.

I’ve been only once. And it was in May.

So how, you might ask, would you miss a season in a town where you’ve spent the sum total of ten days visiting?

Well.

I’d say, first of all, that maybe normal logic doesn’t apply to me.

But I’d go further.

Last night The Good Man was out at dinner with a friend from out of town, so I was on my own. Chilled to the bone from the freezing rain I went to my local grocer to find something ready-made to warm up (and yes, surprisingly, I wore a jacket on this jaunt. But only because of the rain. Otherwise I would have left it at home.)

I prowled the aisles of ready-made food looking for something to satisfy.

And my eyes landed on pre-packed containers of…

(Oh, my heart flutters just thinking of it)

Matzoh Ball Soup.

Here! In California!

I almost cried, I really did.

I know that I was baptized and raised Catholic, but I honestly believe there is a part of me that is fully Jewish. I’ve thought this for a while. Mainly, because I love Jewish food. Matzoh ball soup is only the beginning.

There is my deep and abiding love for chicken liver. Egads. It’s borderline obsessive.

And let’s talk schmaltz! If someone says something is schmaltzy, I’ll run toward it with a cracker! Delicious!

If it weren’t for that whole keeping meat and dairy separate, I might be kosher. But I need cheddah on my beef tacos, so that ends that.

But back to New York. I *loved* every minute I spent in New York. Every street block has a diner and every diner serves their version of the delicious healing chicken broth over a lump of matzoh-y goodness. Twenty four hours a day.

And I got to the point, after bowl upon bowl of the stuff, that I know my preferences.

Some serve a huge matzoh, some small. I prefer smaller.

Some matzohs are dense, some are lighter and almost fluffy. I like the lighter.

Some broth is heavily salted and with an onion flavor. Some lean toward bland. I like the salty onion infused broth.

Some broth has almost no other veggies included. Some have quite a few. I like no veggies, preferring to enjoy the broth as is.

But you can see, you get all kinds of variations depending on who is doing the cooking.

So as I paid for the soup last night, anticipating the chickeny healing goodness, I knew intuitively that it wouldn’t be good. It wouldn’t be right.

But, it was matzoh ball soup, and that was something.

See, you can look for yourself. It was ok, but it wasn’t right.

What’s with all the carrots!?!?

The matzohs were too big and too dense. I didn’t eat all of them (there were FIVE in the container!), preferring to slurp at the broth instead.

So while it wasn’t perfect, it was close enough to make me content.

Close enough to make me miss New York. I long to be back there, and not just because of the soup. The soup just reminded me.

I remember very clearly, as soon as I set foot on the island, my heart began to beat in time with the rhythm of the city. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.

As Cole Porter famously said (and in this version, Bobby Short sings), I happen to like New York.

Still Life, with Gummy (or…oh no, there she goes again…)

As mentioned, I have been taking a photography class, and by thinking about photography so much lately, it has me looking at the world in a whole new way.

I see the daily items in my life differently. I imagine the world through my lens.

I look at light a lot more carefully too. As in “whoa, that’s good light” or “man, too bright…I’d mute that, maybe dampen it with a dark cloth.”

So it’s been overcast here the past several days. Before this class, I might look at those cloudy gray skies and lament the winter.

But now, with a photographic eye, I’m like “yeah baby! Best light ever!”

The muted light of a cloudy day really makes the colors pop. Who knew the winter could be so photographically fun!

Also, now, since everything gets my look as though through a lens, I notice more. Little objects take on meaning. A weird weather beaten door is endlessly fascinating. I have to stop and look…sometimes to the dismay of people I am with…

So yesterday, on a routine trip to the post office, I saw a fascinating little tableau.

A careless, random smattering of gummy bears.

The stormy skies lit up the colors. They were bright like lit from inside.

All I had was my iPhone, but I had to stop and take a picture.

The photo isn’t great. It isn’t even artistically very interesting. And technically…oy! Focus is on the middle gummy with foreground blurry. Whoops. The angle isn’t interesting. Oh well.

So the photo doesn’t capture exactly what I saw, but helps me remember. Remember that overlooked things, weird leavings, and random items can, with the right light, be made beautiful and interesting and worth stopping to look.

My photography teacher is quoted as saying, “A photograph makes us care.”

So, really, no one cares about some spilled gummy bears.

But to me, I have to wonder, just what sort of gummy tragedy occurred here?