Carmen rides a little bike; frog appears; in the long but waning light of early summer, one can feel the approach of winter
Saturday, July 2, 2011 at 12:07PM ;)
Yesterday afternoon when I pulled into the Metro drive through, I saw Carmen, pedaling through the parking lot on Branson's bike. Hence, the above study:
Carmen in the Metro Parking Lot, Study, #52: Carmen transforms into a little kid.
;)
I ate lunch in the back yard, so that Jimmy could spend a little time outside. A frog appeared - the biggest I have seen around here in a long time - the body must have been nearly three inches long - and around here, that is a huge frog.
While the frog population appears to be much smaller than it once was, one must still be careful walking in the backyard, because these guys are well-camouflaged and easy to not see and so step on.
It is an awful thing, to step on a frog.
I took this picture well after 10:00 PM, as I was riding my bike down Church Road. When I looked up and saw these clouds, I could feel the impending darkness. This may seem absurd to people in lower latitudes who have never seen the night sky look like this, but up here, many of us get this feelng the day after summer solstice:
The dark of winter, coming on.
Yesterday, I found fireweed in bloom. The blooms start with the bottom flowers and then progress upward as we move through summer. When the top flowers bloom, it is said that summer is over.
Summer is wonderful right now, and yet I can feel its end so strong.
The feeling is made all the worse by the fact that I have a great deal of production work to do this summer, and that work must all be done inside, at my computer.
I have long had this theory that I should not have any production work to do in the summer. Summers should be spent outdoors, shooting. Winters can be spent inside, producing.
Yet, somehow, I always lose a signficant portion of my summer to production.
Right now, I am producing work based primarily on images that I shot during the winter. So, except for a few fleeting moments, I am pretty much stuck inside this summer. Fish are running, animals moving and I am pretty much stuck inside, producing work built of the images of winter.
Everything is backwards of how it ought to be.
This must be the last such summer.
Next summer, I must be free to spend most of my time outdoors, shooting, living. No more of this summer production work!
An hour or so a day producing this blog would be okay, but that's it.
Next summer!
This one is already lost - mostly. I will still ride my bike most everyday that I am home. I might get in a short canoe trip, a hike, I might catch and cook a fish and next week I do plan a field trip north and at least part of that will be outdoor work.
But I should be able to be outdoors, everyday, most all the time.
Here I am, on my bike, late at night, corner of Seldon and Church. A light rain has fallen. The air smells sweet, and fresh. It is wonderfully cool against my skin.
I bike through a late night sunbeam, down by the Little Susitna River. My shadow follows.
Reader Comments (5)
Bill- I'm not sure but I think it's illegal to work inside all summer in Alaska. Please be sure you follow the rules for some fresh air, frog observing, sky gawking time outdoors.
I know exactly what you mean about the impending darkness. Somehow it's just round the corner even though summer officially just arrived so I made sure to close my eyes on the fireweed picture because I don't want to know it has started to bloom...Enough thinking about it for today!
Thank you for sharing your limited summer time with us and hoping next year is right way round with you out and about in summer
Illegal to work in summer. By gosh, Pi is on to something. If it is not, it should be!
Beautiful pictures, Bill. As always. I especially love the one of the fireweed.
The fireweed gives hope for weeks ahead of summertime. You must force yourself outdoors for the next month or two. Then winter closes in on all of us.
When someone is talking, and we understand them, we sometimes say, "I get where you are coming from". Well, Bill Hess, in more ways than one you are coming from a very different place than me, but it is somewhere I love to go in your beautiful pictures and your fine words. Of recent posts I love particularly the picture of the corner of Seldon and Church, after the rain, with the truck coming with its lights on and the big sky that speaks of freedom. Love it. Thank you.