“The journey matters... ”
           ~Inscription on my Yakapad™ kayak seat pad

It has been an amazing three days glued to the kayak, floating in beautiful emerald water, sleeping long nights, reading amazing books and writing to clear away ages-old cobwebs. It has been an amazing three days of vacationing with my inner artist, culminating with my insanely wonderful queen-for-a-day, over-the-top, lunar eclipse and full moon birthday. Even the traffic signals were all full moon green cheese as I drove home tonight.

I took this photograph standing neck-deep in the hot, intensely clear and calm August water of the Gulf of Mexico today. I have been spending more time with my old camera, the D100, in the kayak. Curiously, a bit more fun has returned to paddling photography for me with it. Though not nearly the exquisite image-maker the D2x is, the humble little D100 sure is a heck of a lot lighter and smaller. And call me silly, but there's something liberating about being neck-deep in water with a $500 camera versus a $5,000 camera. The Artist's Way is the liberation of fun, and creativity begins to ooze back in when fun opens the door.

I walked out to the dock a few minutes ago, followed closely by my shadow and two cats in the long fingers of moonlight. Lightning flickered in the far-away western sky. I thought about the day...these three days...and how abundant life can feel. Moist breezes played in top of the palm tree next to the dock. A long tongue of thin clouds undulated into a delicate, infinite scarf of vapor, connecting the moon to the lightning.

A book I am reading said this: "The world is terrified of authentically joyful women. Take a stand. Be one anyway".  I stood there under a night sky that lit up the yard like day, completely grateful, completely at peace, terrifyingly joyful.

Light. Darkness. Distance and paths. Indeed: the journey matters.

Nikon d100, nikkor 24-120mm @ 24mm, 1/80th, f/13

“Often people attempt to live their lives backwards: they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want so they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do in order to have what you want.”
           ~Margaret Young

It isn't often that I watch the sun both rise and fall from behind the camera, but on those occasions when I can, it is always a gift. Chasing light around the clock is fun and full of its own set of challenges. Standing at the top of the New Pass bridge tonight, fierce winds blew hard from the east, vibrating the camera even as I shielded it with my body. The first fingers of that wind are evident in the dawn shot, rocking the skiff side to side in that 30 second exposure.

There is always a flip side to everything. Clouds that block the sun can create drama. Winds that shake the camera keep the bugs away. The sun climbs and sinks again.

The rotisserie of life.

sunset: nikon d2x, nikkor 80-400 mm @ 400mm, 1/5th , f/16
dawn: nikon d2x, nikkor 12-24mm @ 12mm, 30 seconds & 10 seconds respectively, f/16

“No matter how slow the film, Spirit always stands still long enough for the photographer It has chosen.”
           ~Minor White

Standing among mangroves, muck, sand and thick slabs of August bath-water algae, I couldn't decide which was the hardest to endure: clouds of mosquitoes, an ocean of noseeums or the numerous waterfalls that were running off my nose and eyebrows. Night chased the sun down into the explosion of thunderstorms on the horizon and the temperature plummeted downhill all the way to 94 with a similar percentage of humidity in the air. Life in the trenches of August in the sub-tropics.

I had grand plans tonight, and when I piled into the car, they were married to a heap of good intention. Armed with my new 2-million candle watt light, a couple of SB-800's, a fair dollop of good ol' faith, and a sketchy schematic of some well-after-sunset, light-painted shots, I was pleased that the sweet juice of desire to make a photograph was finally coursing through my veins once again.

I'd been thinking about it all day as I plowed through work chores and an ill-fated trip out in the recently-fixed skiff.  I'd visualized lighting configurations as I drove down Hickory Boulevard listening to "The Lark Ascending" with its heartbreakingly sweet violin cadenzas, the streets strangely quiet and free of traffic in the evening humidity. Light splayed across the water in a greasy, luminous slick as I pulled up to a new spot I'd decided I would try.

New geek-vest on? Check. Loaded up, too. Backpack and tripod? Yep. A quick shower in some kind of nasty Deet concoction, and I was off.

The light lasted for about five minutes until storms stole it from my grasp. The heat was oppressive, the skies violent and the bugs...let's just say it was a grand symphony of elements conspiring in dark tones, telling me in clear voices, "not this night. not this night."

I let go.

As a reward, one lovely great white egret decided to land on a tiny oyster bar in the falling tide, and a brief moment of emotional light fell across the mangroves just before the evening was lost. Little gifts in the bag before I drove home.

Another night. There's always another night.

egret: nikon d2x, nikkor 80-400 mm @ 400mm, 1/13th , f/9
mangroves: nikon d2x, nikkor 12-24mm @ 12mm, 2 seconds, f/16