I recently learned that as a photographer, you don't have to travel to far-off combat zones or seek out controversial subject matter in order to come in to conflict with the authorities. Simply park a few miles from home at the entrance to an old farm track late at night. At that point no matter how many fireflies there are in the big oak tree across the street and in the adjacent field or how many (admittedly rather awful) photos of them you have on your camera's memory card from the past hour, the suspicious police officer will still be inclined to think that you are there to break into the barn. Ah well.
Last year in a certain area near where I live, the fireflies congregated so thickly and flashed so brightly that it was like the whole place had been strung with festival lights. The fireflies' dance was accompanied by the calls of night birds and a frenzied frog chorus. Late at night on that deserted country road, I felt as if I had stumbled upon an impromptu street fair - but instead of funnel cakes and corn dogs, the dewy aroma of honeysuckle and fresh grass tickled my nose. I was awed by the scene, which was at once full of energy and profoundly serene.
I eagerly awaited the return of the firefly festival this year, with hopes that I might somehow capture a photograph this time. The fireflies are indeed back, and now it's up to me and my camera to get the job done - as long as the local police are okay with that, of course. If I manage to get any decent photos, I'll post them.
Last year in a certain area near where I live, the fireflies congregated so thickly and flashed so brightly that it was like the whole place had been strung with festival lights. The fireflies' dance was accompanied by the calls of night birds and a frenzied frog chorus. Late at night on that deserted country road, I felt as if I had stumbled upon an impromptu street fair - but instead of funnel cakes and corn dogs, the dewy aroma of honeysuckle and fresh grass tickled my nose. I was awed by the scene, which was at once full of energy and profoundly serene.
I eagerly awaited the return of the firefly festival this year, with hopes that I might somehow capture a photograph this time. The fireflies are indeed back, and now it's up to me and my camera to get the job done - as long as the local police are okay with that, of course. If I manage to get any decent photos, I'll post them.
This is the third year since I tore out a chunk of turf to make space for my flower/herb garden, and it's finally starting to look like something. In the early stages of planning I rifled through books and magazines for ideas about what to plant and where, but ultimately I followed the eclectic beat of my own drum - which more often than not sounds something like this: "Ooh! This flower has an interesting shape and color! And look, here's a convenient seed pod! Let's try planting it!"
Distilling my propensity for snagging random seed pods from the woods and other natural areas and experimenting with sprouting them at home into the phrase, "I'm growing a weed garden!" soon led to several unexpected and uncomfortable conversational lapses. Obviously that wasn't the right phrase to use with acquaintances who don't know me well, especially considering the fact that I'm naturally prone to giggling... Now I use the term "wildflower" and that works out much better.
This year I augmented my hand-sown seedlings with a birdbath and some nursery-grown flowers and herbs. I've enjoyed using fresh oregano and thyme (overwintered from last year) in my cooking, and I'm looking forward to the rest of my herbs coming in so that I can try out some new recipes with them. I don't know yet what I'm going to do with the marjoram or pineapple sage, but the internet is full of suggestions.
Most of the time I love that I can see my garden from the kitchen window and I enjoy the visitors that the plants and the birdbath draw in. Last week, however, upon witnessing a mockingbird gleefully gouging at my strawberries, I was reduced to impotently banging on the window and desperately ordering my indoor cat to sic the offending avian. I'm not sure now (such trauma can make for hazy memories), but I might have been crying, too. Nonetheless, both animals responded to my demands by ignoring them completely. Ah, it's so hard to behave rationally when fresh, sun-ripened strawberries are on the line.
Inspired by the blooms in my garden, by the NC Azalea Festival, and by a woman who asked me if I had any photos of irises (I do now!), I recently set out on a springtime photography jaunt around my home. I was surprised by the irises. They've been in my yard for years, but I felt like I hadn't really looked at them until I decided to photograph them. They ended up being some of my favorite shots. You can see a selection of photos from my excursion below.
Distilling my propensity for snagging random seed pods from the woods and other natural areas and experimenting with sprouting them at home into the phrase, "I'm growing a weed garden!" soon led to several unexpected and uncomfortable conversational lapses. Obviously that wasn't the right phrase to use with acquaintances who don't know me well, especially considering the fact that I'm naturally prone to giggling... Now I use the term "wildflower" and that works out much better.
This year I augmented my hand-sown seedlings with a birdbath and some nursery-grown flowers and herbs. I've enjoyed using fresh oregano and thyme (overwintered from last year) in my cooking, and I'm looking forward to the rest of my herbs coming in so that I can try out some new recipes with them. I don't know yet what I'm going to do with the marjoram or pineapple sage, but the internet is full of suggestions.
Most of the time I love that I can see my garden from the kitchen window and I enjoy the visitors that the plants and the birdbath draw in. Last week, however, upon witnessing a mockingbird gleefully gouging at my strawberries, I was reduced to impotently banging on the window and desperately ordering my indoor cat to sic the offending avian. I'm not sure now (such trauma can make for hazy memories), but I might have been crying, too. Nonetheless, both animals responded to my demands by ignoring them completely. Ah, it's so hard to behave rationally when fresh, sun-ripened strawberries are on the line.
Inspired by the blooms in my garden, by the NC Azalea Festival, and by a woman who asked me if I had any photos of irises (I do now!), I recently set out on a springtime photography jaunt around my home. I was surprised by the irises. They've been in my yard for years, but I felt like I hadn't really looked at them until I decided to photograph them. They ended up being some of my favorite shots. You can see a selection of photos from my excursion below.