The Thaw is on

A change is coming.  As soon as the days grow longer, a hint of spring graces the crystal clear mountain air. The epiphany that brings sunny skies and a slow awakening to winter's long slumber is a welcome sight.  Spring days give icicles a chance to grow like long spires, with each drip, growing ever longer.  Brisk night air freeze the ice chandeliers until another day's dawn, when the cycle begins again. 

 

Go Big on Buffalo Pass

Buffalo Pass,part of Routt National Forest,  is a snowmobilers' dream.  Located just off RCR 38, Buffalo Pass offers a treasure trove to the adventurer at heart.

Once the snow melts, which is a mysterious unknown date (let's just say mid June) this piece of heaven opens its' arms to hikers, off road enthusiasts, campers, anglers...you name it Buffalo Pass offers it.

So, sit back, let your imagination run wild, soak in the elixir that is Colorado and her bounty of true love.

Hemingway's Muse?

When married to a photographer, the spouse often times finds themselves behind the scenes, carrying equipment, holding screens for lighting or sitting solo, waiting while the photographer searches for the perfect light. My husband is an outstanding photographer.  His eye captures beauty and life's complexities with the click of the camera.

So, when I took a solo trip to California to visit our son Bryan, I asked John if I could borrow one of his cameras and capture my hometown from my point of view.  I am not a photographer by nature,  but I relish in the splendid and rugged beauty of  the world around me.

Port Hueneme Pier has seen tempestuous slaps from Mother Nature throughout the years.  Fierce winter swells have slowly dismantled the pier's length and width.  Yet, one assemblage remains.  The fisherman.

In 1952 Ernest Hemingway wrote of Santiago and a relationship with a marlin.  As many times as I have drifted to the end of the pier seeking solitude and the meaning of life,  the fishermen is a constant presence. So, when walking the pier, I was moved to capture this fisherWOMAN's conversation with the sea.

A petite Filipino lady, she moved with ease and grace around the other apostles, tossing her lines out in hopes of snagging a mighty fish.  She was a quiet woman, whispering to herself; perhaps channeling her inner spirit with the sea and its' inhabitants.  

My hope is that I connected with one person, early in the morning and the sea was witness to that. 

Eyes on The Capitol Building

Hollywood, CA is a destination in and of itself.  Tourists flock to the golden starred streets to seek out their favorite entertainers, down & outs pan handle for spare change, lost souls wander the boulevard in search of fame while others just go about their business; "locals" trying to navigate around the maze that is the Hollywood experience.

No matter your art taste, wall murals are everywhere.  Taggers might have gang communication wars going back and forth, others are paid for their artistic interpretations.  

Some might recognize the prestigious Capitol Records building with it's distinctive architectural presence on Vine Street, overlooking Hollywood Boulevard.  Built in 1956, it remains a landmark  for the entertainment district. Artist Richard Wyatt captured the effervescent spirit of jazz greats Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday to name just a few. 

Walk a few hundred feet south and you will find yourself on the famed Hollywood Boulevard, where dreams are found with each passing inlaid golden star.  Listen carefully and you can hear Ms. Holiday serenading, "If I Only Had Eyes for You".

From a Produce Stand to the Academy's Oscar

Each artist has their own muse.  For my wife, it's writing,  for me, it's found behind the lens of the camera.  

Before a recent trip, my wife asked if she could use one of my cameras to capture her trip to visit her Pacific Coast and also our son.  Sure - why not!

Apparently, while attempting to go one block south of Hollywood Blvd, to get to a fresh produce market for our son's restaurant, Bryan told his Mom to wait, and he'd make the mad dash through the traffic.  The Los Angeles Marathon had most of L.A. in a nightmar-ish maze of angered drivers behind steering wheel and honking horns.  Ann stayed with the car, and Bryan took off in search of  escarole and cloverfield greens.  

Ann began to walk towards Hollywood Blvd.  She caught some shots of the old Holloywood Playhouse on Vine, which I will publish later.  But, I did enjoy her simplistic shot of the famous Hollywood & Vine marker.  How many wayward dusty road dreamers have stood underneath the cross signs of Hollywood & Vine?  Eyes blinded by technicolor romance with the likes of Henry Fonda, Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, Katharine Hepburn and Sophia Loren.  

Ann shot this sign and described it as entrance or net of sorts to catch impetuous drama hounds, set on finding the gilded doors of Paramount or 20th Century  Studios, and acting along the long road with dreams of holding Oscar in their arms one day.

Seasons in the Spring Sun

Lines.  Depth. Texture. Shadows.  With those words in mind, the eye can analyze the subject and seek out all 4 definitions.  The perk of capturing nature is the luxury of words discovered.  

Ambling, rambling, gurgling and secretive, the  river runs below winter's blanket, awaiting spring's thaw.

As March slowly exits, the Rocky Mountains are beginning to show signs of the season of blooms, bursting sun showers and fragrant aromas.  April is just a daydream away and before long the sun's heat will renew life in abundance.

Dance with joy, the songs of the heart rejoice and the skin feels the magic which the sun delivers with resounding strength.

If I Only Had a Brain

Nothing is more iconic of the true western town than horses in the middle of the main thoroughfare, snowy streets and a marketing dream in the background of Mt. Werner.

Steamboat takes on an unique feel and look about it in mid February.  The yearly, "Winter Carnival" draws tourists from all over the world, and also drags the winter weary locals from all 4 corners of the county to the center of town for a weekend of fun and festivities. 

Nothing shouts western life or ski town, U.S.A. more than sitting on a large snow shovel being dragged behind a horse, tearing down Lincoln Avenue at heart stopping 40 m.p.h.  No wonder most sane contestants wear a ski helmet for the event.

Later in the evening, the frivolities move over to Howelson Hill where daring souls light a gasoline infused ring with a match and ski jumpers toss common sense and inhibitions to the wind and hurtle themselves down the 60 meter ski jump through an arsonist's wet dream...a fully engulfed  hula-hoop and into the dark night air.  Usually, liquid bravery is the catalyst for such an event.  Maybe the same could be said for the sit & spin shovel surge earlier in the day.

John captured quite a few images from that day, but I felt that the essence of the western town could be felt from seeing the group of horses, standing around; cowboys in saddles, and the iconic picture of the ski hill.

I am grateful that John did not get some crazy, "I am invincible moment" and take to a shovel behind a horse.  My obvious question being, "What is the horse poops"?