Monday, September 11, 2006

Rememberance




(New York - October, 1990. I was 19 years old. Eleven years prior to the day now known as "9/11". The following writing is the story of the day I took this picture.)

The morning light flickered in my eyes as our shuttle crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, allowing me only a staggered view of the skyline. I leaned against the window of the bus and stared at the towers of the World Trade Center. They drew the horizon up above the rising sun itself, as if holding the warmth of the day aloft for all the other buildings below.

We were swallowed into the swarm of the city, and I shifted to the aisle of the bus so I could look straight ahead of us. I was used to canyons and coulees... a way of life when living in Washington State - but this canyon was as alien and beautiful as anything I had ever witnessed in nature. The skyscrapers won the battle between their height and my craned neck. Try as I might, I couldn't see the top of them as our bus slinked through the traffic to the hotel. I suddenly had the feeling of being lost in a labyrinth. Alice, falling right down into the rabbit hole.

Five days blended into one singular rush of color. Giggling with my friends in the back seat of my first taxi ride... my first trip to the subway, all three of us afraid to unlink our arms... my first coffee with cream sipped while sitting at a sidewalk cafe. The pretzel vendor who dropped to his knees as we walked by, begging me to come back and marry him. The tiny heart necklace I bought at Macy's, set with ten tinier rhinestones. My amazement that caviar was an option to put on your hamburger while feasting at Serendipity.. Standing in the glitter of Times Square. Feeling the wind rush through me as I stood atop the Empire State Building. Realizing I was actually looking at the Statue of Liberty with my very own eyes.

But within that rush of color, was a swath of light that cut right through and slowed every heartbeat down into a long held breath. Today it is a pure playback of memory that retains every detail, which has come to be one of the most meloncholy rememberances of the trip.

It was during the proverbial "three hour tour" of Manhattan Island by boat. I was sitting up front on one of the smooth wooden benches, watching the city as we quietly drifted by. I had my camera ready... snapping pictures of the varying skyline - wanting to preserve it all to show everyone when I returned home. It was early in the day, because we wanted to make sure we left plenty of time for other things, and so the sun was hovering above the tops of some of the skyscrapers.

It was then that I saw the Twin Towers.

They were so tall, I realized the sun was going to be just cresting at the top as we passed through their shadows. I lifted my camera, peering through the tiny view finder. I waited a moment as the boat chugged onward, and then I saw it. The sun poised perfectly between the towers, at an apex that joined them together by the rays that were shining down. I snapped the picture...then slowly dropped the camera down. For that brief moment in time, I was caught in the stream of light that was funneled between the towers, and flowing out across the water. It was dazzling... and gone in the next breath.

We finished the boat tour, and disappeared back into the city to live out the rest of our whirlwind trip. Once we were back in Seattle, I stepped off the plane so changed. A love of travel forever rooted in my heart, but a deep appreciation of my quaint home tucked in the middle of a large apple orchard. A balance was struck between the two... a bargain that no matter where my adventures took me, this valley would give me a comfortable shelter to return to. I settled back into life, developed the pictures I had taken... and eventually forgot the picture I had taken that day, in the shadows of the World Trade Center. It would be eleven years before I would realize just how extraordinary that image really was.... as I knelt by my old wooden trunk in the bedroom, tears streaming down my cheeks, the picture taken carefully from it's sleeve and held so tenderly. It was as if that small kindness could transfer across the miles, and into the chaos of that one infamous day.

The lyrics to Elton John's song "Empty Garden" fit so well. Originally a tribute to John Lennon...I think of it now in the light of 9/11....


Empty Garden



What happened here...
As the New York sunset disappeared
I found an empty garden among the flagstones there
Who lived here?
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And now it all looks strange
It's funny how one insect can damage so much grain

And what's it for
This little empty garden by the brownstone door
And in the cracks along the sidewalk nothing grows no more
Who lived here
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And we are so amazed we're crippled and we're dazed
A gardener like that one no one can replace...

And I've been knocking but no one answers
And I've been knocking most all the day
Oh and I've been calling... oh hey hey johnny
Can't you come out to play

And through their tears
Some say he farmed his best in younger years
But he'd have said that roots grow stronger if only he could hear
Who lived there
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
Now we pray for rain, and with every drop that falls
We hear, we hear your name

Johnny can't you come out to play in your empty garden...

(Here is a link to the song on Youtube, if you wish to listen.
)Empty Garden Link

Monday, June 26, 2006

The Farmhouse Adventure

Last Saturday, hubby, myself, and our good friend Jeremy packed up our camera gear and got ready for a little expedition. With the coolers full of snacks, and a rough idea of where we wanted to go, we took off in the Jeep into the perfect summer day.

We drove across the river towards the high plateau farmlands in the east. There were some old abandoned farmhouses sitting out in the wheat fields that we wanted photos of, and today was the day for getting the pictures. Even though the temperature was going to be in the high 90's, we had on jeans (well...hubby and I did, Jeremy was the brave one with shorts on!) and shoes just in case we had an unplanned encounter with a rattlesnake.

An hour later, we were pulling up to the first homestead. The day was already blazing with a dry heat intense enough to peel skin, but we trudged across the recently toiled field anyway. We all split up and started taking pictures of whatever caught our eye, and I have to say I felt somewhat like a National Geo photographer, going the distance for a picture of a falling down house in the middle of nowhere! Eventually we all ended up inside the house, picking our way carefully across the non-existant floorboards, making sure we weren't going to go crashing through to the scarifying 'cellar' below. Dust motes were swirling softly around us, the silence was thick. All I can hear is the click of shutters as the guys do their thing. I am standing there, eyeballing what I want to take a picture of next, when I notice a dusty lump on the floor, nudged up against the wall on the opposite side of the little room we were all standing in. There was something familiar about the largish lump...and as my eyes travelled up along the curve, to where it turned narrow, I realized I was now looking at a neck. And when I realized that, it took me only a couple of seconds more to understand that I was also looking at a little head, and that I was being looked at in return. My first thought was that this creature had died here, and had basically been mummified in the dry heat. But then it binked.

I remember half strangling, half yelping in surprise - and both guys whipp around to see what I'm spazzing about. I point, finger shaking....at the big dusty peacock staring at us.

A PEACOCK!! All covered in dust, and so still that had he not blinked, I would have thought he was totally stone dead. It's spooky when you think you are totally alone, and you aren't. Even when it's a big ole' feathery bird. So the guys get over it fairly quickly, but I'm totally entranced. Of course, our immediate hunch is that it's sick, and not to touch it (OHMYGAWDAVIANFLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!), but I just can't help leaning in a little to see it closer.

I look at it. It peers at me. I lean a little closer. And all hell breaks loose.

Next thing I know, there is a giant peacock body flailing past me. I know it's happening fast, but I see it's big eyeball move by me in slow motion. I'm shrieking. Of COURSE I'm shrieking...and laughing, and dodging the flotsom and jetsam that is stirred up in it's wake. The peacock bolts out the nearby back door (which actually isn't a door, but just a gaping hole), and I look down at the floor where it had been. Three big peacock eggs lay there in a little cluster. AhhHAAAAA!!!! Yes, Sherlock, the bird was sitting on it's nest. Duh!! Geez, so much for being a National Geo photog. Had this been a Walrus, I would have been gored and filleted by the time I realized what was happening.

So Jeremy asks "Was that the peacock making all that noise???"

Um. No. That was me, thank you very much.

Of course, I can't leave well enough alone. Even though the guys go back to taking pictures, I stalk this poor creature out the back door and into the tall grass outside. It's like some sort of freakish movie. I walk outside, and I catch a glimpse of the peacock fluidly gliding through the grass and around the next corner. So I follow in hot pursuit. By the time I get to the corner and peek around it, Mz. Peacock is standing fifty feet away, craning her neck over the grass to watch me. The minute she sees my beedy little eyes, she goes floating on around the next corner. And yes, this continues on like some sort of cartoon, until Mz. Peacock heads in the front door of the house. I call out to the guys "The peacock's coming back!!!!" and Larry turns to see her craning her neck at him, before disappearing into the bowels of the house somewhere.

So, we end up leaving, and reminscing about our near death experience. Well, okay - MY near death experience. Er... well, my near getting-pecked-to-death-by-a-boat-bodied-bird experience. At any rate, it was fun. And besides getting a bad case of heat exhaustion a little later in the day, I'm quite pleased with the pictures, and the stories of the day.

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Today I'm putting the final touches on the new designs for my website! Hope you like it. You know me, ever changing. And hopefully it won't be 104 degrees here like yesterday, because I was one miserable pup, I'm tellin' you! But the thunder and lightning rolled in at about 3:00 a.m. last night, and I laid there watching it through half slitted eyes, seeing the big pine tree outside my window light up in intervals. It's still storming right now, with thunder rolling in the distance, and the breeze coming in through the window smells like rain and earth and cherry trees.