A Little Pocket of Paradise

I found my little pocket of paradise this past week.

It's not much. No grandiose views although it is a bit photogenic.

Nothing earth shattering in its location or history.

It's just a pocket and a quiet little pocket, just what I needed and what I didn't know I was looking for.

When I found my pocket I knew though that my heart and soul would forever think of this place when in need.

In times of need when I want to envision my happy place, I think of an alpine meadow shrouded in fog. I feel protected and at peace.

But here on this little knoll looking out into a meadow nestled between basalt bluffs, I felt at home. Beyond protection and peace, this place was comfort.

I could have stayed there forever yet I have no desire to encroach on the landscape by building a home. Maybe in that corner over there so I could have this unspoiled view to myself.

Shared with the deer wandering through the meadow, uncertain of me yet also unafraid.

This is my little pocket of paradise.

The Scent of Green

Green has a scent.

Green smells like spring in a Pacific Northwest forest.

As the ferns unfurl their fronds reaching out for new life, you can smell it.

As the Salmonberry and Thimbleberry leaf out and blossom preparing for their juicy summer fruits, you can smell it.

As the undergrowth replenishes through warmer air and moist days putting forth sparkling gems of wildflowers, you can smell.

As the moss drips with rain water from the sturdy boughs of the trees surrounding you, you can smell it.

As the Big Leaf Maples and the tentacles Vine Maples spread their palmated leaves to collect the sun and rejuvenate their roots, you can smell it.

As streams rattle and crash over rocks and through banks of glorious and vibrant greens, you can smell it.

As you walk through a Pacific Northwest forest in the spring, you can smell it.

You can smell green.

Have you smelled it?

Hiking the Upper Dungeness River

Beautiful partly sunny February days don't happen very often here in the Northwest. But when they do, you better know that folks will line up to hike the low land snow-free trails - unless the trail is a 3 hour drive from the Seattle.

Welcome to the Upper Dungeness - or any trail on the north end of the Olympic Peninsula. A magical place where the crowds just don't go, at least not early in the season. By the time we parked and got our boots on, we saw no other cars in the parking lot.

The Olympic Peninsula is a magical place for me. This is where I first learned about the wonders of the natural world. It's also where I learned about hiking and backpacking. Even old familiar trails are new and wondrous for me with each passing season.

So when I have the chance to share my favorite places with others I leap at the chance. I get to spend the day in the wilderness with friends as they explore nature and themselves. What could be better than stopping by a river and having a snack in camaraderie of fellow travelers?

And when you're hiking through the shadow of ancient trees on a chill February morning, stop to feel the sun on your face for a brief moment and become spellbound.

What's Your Secret?

Will you tell me your secret? 

Ooh. That's a cool old barn that you photographed. Where did you find it?

Wow! Great lighting! What technique did you use?

Have you been asked these questions? Or asked them? What was the response? 

Oh, I found that barn on my latest road trip. The technique is natural light. And is that all the response given? It's as if the photographer is afraid to tell you too much for fear that you'll then know his or her secret?

Well let me tell you a secret of my own. Don't tell anyone, ok? Just between you and me.

There are no secrets. 

Let me repeat that - there are NO secrets.

A recent exchange on Facebook left me wondering why some photographers are so hesitant to share their knowledge. I can understand trying to protect a place as a fellow photographer lamented the destruction of vegetation near a waterfall as photographer's clambered to get just the right image. But sadly once a place has been found, it will not remain secret and our next step in protecting the place is through education and Leave No Trace policies. Sarah Marino wrote an excellent blog post about this very thing.

But beyond protecting a place from overuse is there another reason? Is it a fear of not being unique anymore? Not having that one of a kind image?

Another friend of mine was helping a wedding photographer for a year when he finally "discovered" how that photographer achieved a certain look in his images. Why not ask? Was it because photographers have a heinous reputation for guarding their secrets?

Just do me a favor. Open your browser to Google and type in that place or that technique you think only you know. See what happens. I will lay even money down that there will be several entries for your query. So why do you keep it secret.

What's a better solution? Teaching. For those special places we hold dear, teach the next photographer you see how best to preserve the environment. For the person who wants to know how to light a subject, guide them through the steps.

I promise, you will be all the better for it.

Oh and if you're interested in where the above image was made. I created it somewhere is Eastern Washington. ;-)

A Mother's Touch

Mother's Day.

It's been 25+ years since I thought of celebrating this holiday by giving my mom flowers or an African Violet or an owl figurine. Mom died far too early in her life and mine.

As a young woman heading out toward life, I missed her presence, her advice and her love. I was only 24 when she died from complications due to Type 2 Diabetes. She was 57. I had just gotten married to a man I did not love and he knew. He demonstrated his frustration through his fists.

But Mom didn't raise me to be a punching bag. I knew it. He knew it. And after an emergency room visit with friends we were divorced. Thoughts turned to returning home to the safety of family as at the time I was in Ohio. But Mom would have wanted me to follow my dreams and so I stayed in school and became an educator.

Not liking the public school system, I taught college level courses and, later, extending education for adults. And when I look at what I teach (hiking, navigation, photography, the natural world) I see her influence.

Mom taught me about the natural world, life cycles, love of being in nature and a vision of the art in everyday life. She taught me to look at the more minuscule world even as I gazed in wonder at the grand views. And she showed me that helping others find their view is the most rewarding. 

And so, without even really thinking about it I will be celebrating Mother's Day in the world she taught me to love and to share. This Mother's Day I'll be backpacking with friends and new hikers sharing my love of this natural world with them. 

Thank you mom. I miss you.