I’m going for double the fun this week—golden grasses during golden hour courtesy of Wild Horse State Recreation Area in northern Nevada.
Just like last week, I knew immediately which image in my library conjured up my feelings of the theme. This is another image that simply makes me feel calm and peaceful. Part of it is the magic that is Golden Hour.
It’s one of the basics of photography that gets pounded into your head even in amateur workshops. And it’s why our field sessions happen at the beginnings and ends of days. Catching the low, soft light on the edges of the day is a lot of what makes a compelling image.
But even non-photographers love golden hour light even if they can’t put their finger on why. Much like our brains like curves, Golden hour light is naturally appealing to our senses regardless of photographer status. The science behind it is pretty cool and you know I love me some science nerdery.
In the case of this image, the colors of the grasses combined with the low Golden Hour sunlight create a sepia-toned monochromatic effect without me adding anything to the mix in post-processing. So that’s the golden double-your-pleasure bonus.
I made this image back in our full-timing days during one of our stays at Wild Horse State Recreation Area north of Elko, Nevada. It one of our favorite front-country camping spots of all time.
Despite the challenges we were facing at that time, I was able to spend a good amount of energy photographing the beauty there. And this golden-laden image is one of my lasting favorites from that time.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
The undulation of rocking soothes our nervous systems. Can we achieve similar emotional comfort from an image? I know I can.
We know the physical process of rocking is a magical panacea for our complex human nervous systems. It’s certainly why rocking a baby comes naturally to us. And why we can’t help but embrace the undulation of a rocking chair. Or the comfort of a hammock swaying in the breeze.
But this week’s theme got be thinking about the visual equivalent.
When I look at these undulating dunes, I experience the emotional parallels of the physical comfort of rocking. Simply looking at the soft, smooth, rolling sand dunes brings me a sense of calm.
And in this case—being an image I took myself—I have the added benefit of being able to recall the sensory bliss of being there. And the good, happy times being immersed in this gorgeous place and doing something I love.
This is another shot from Death Valley. Sunrise at Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes to be more specific. The dunes there may not be a big and dramatic as at my beloved Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, but this image captures the feel of undulation better than my shots of Great Sand Dunes.
I hope you find some comfort in the soothing patterns of the dunes, too.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Minimal desert environments are worthy of our curiosity. And there’s no bigger curiosity I’ve experienced than The Racetrack at Death Valley.
I’m embracing my inner geo-dork again this week. The minimal theme is a good opportunity to talk about desert environments. And that they might be minimal compared to a lot of other environments. But they’re not barren wastelands devoid of value.
There are a wide variety of desert types in the world. (Hopefully you’re aware of that so I’ll skip the details.) But one of the most minimal desert places I’ve ever experienced is the Racetrack in Death Valley.
You might be tempted to call this place barren. But there is life. And the “sailing rocks” are an incredible, dynamic, mind-blowing geological phenomenon.
So while it might be considered barren by most people’s standards, I find it complex and amazing. And I encourage you to be curious about how life plays out here and in other minimal environments.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Summer is showing signs of winding down and I’m reflecting on this summer and remembering the better ones of years past. Which involved much more motorcycling to cool places.
I’ve had so many swirling thoughts about this week’s topic. And the mythology surrounding summer. I had so many paths I thought of—and began—exploring.
But the truth is I couldn’t put together some philosophical nugget this week. Because I’m in tremendous fucking pain. And it’s ruling my world right now.
Forget battling my foot and hand issues. My back decided to check the fuck out of functionality. And I don’t have answers from my medical practitioners yet as to the source of my newfound misery. So I’m in limbo. And have been for weeks. It’s a horrible place to be when searching for answers to severe pain.
And I’ve sat in front of the keyboard trying to craft thoughts about summer. And keep powering through all the work tasks on my plate in the hopes of distracting myself.
It’s not happening.
So for the moment, I’m sharing a favorite summer image and transporting myself to the happier place until I can be in that state again.
I captured this at the Quillisascut Farm School of the Domestic Arts in Washington that my dear man and I visited in 2018. It was part of a BMW motorcycle rally we’d ridden to that summer that offered various tours as part of the rally. And we were all in on the “cheese” tour at the farm. We chose well.
This shot from Quillisascut simply screams summer to me in both the vibrant floral way. But also the dripping, hot summer kind of way. And it reminds me of that summer spent doing a metric shit ton of riding and being in my happy place.
There’s zero riding happening right now as you’ve probably guessed. So today I’m keeping happy summer memories close to heart while I navigate this unpleasantness and can move forward again.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Chaos rules our world. It’s what makes our lives so interesting. The surprises—for better or worse—are probably what keeps us from taking our life outcomes for granted.
I’m talking about the “science-y” chaos, of course. Not the descriptive meaning in the sense of something being messy, busy, jumbled, etc.
While there’s overlap between them, the more technical of the two is often misunderstood. It’s important to remember that chaos in terms of our natural systems doesn’t mean everything is random, just difficult to predict.
These systems are tremendously complex. One small input has cascading impacts. And the collection of small inputs builds into a massive array of possible outcomes.
Which is amazing and mind-blowing when you consider the possibilities. If our world was easily predictable, life would probably be pretty damn boring. The Butterfly Effect is what keeps us on our toes. (Side note: That moniker of chaos theory is a huge oversimplification, but it gives us non-mathematicians a place to start.)
And if we think about our own lives in a “Butterfly-Effect” philosophical kind of way, we get to the crux of why my tagline is “This was not in the brochure.”
Because the collection of our life events and “inputs”—big and small—are just as intricately unpredictable as the natural systems that operate in the world. The decisions we make, combined with the things that happen to us in the course of our lives, make for a fuck-all crazy labyrinth of possibilities.
Yet in our humanity, we still seek predictably in an unpredictable world. The metaphorical “brochure” says if you do “X” you’ll get “Y” and your life will be picture-perfect and fabulous. We all know that’s horse shit really, but we still seem to want to buy into the dream.
But the truth is, if we knew how everything was going to work out-if our lives were predictable-that would be pretty fucking dull. And we’d take our life outcomes for granted. For better or worse, the unknowns are the heart of life.
So when life delivers something unexpected think of having little Val on your shoulder saying, “Well that was not in the brochure!” If that surprise was for the worse, feel free to insert as many f-bombs as you need to work your way through it.
As for my butterfly friend here—the unwitting poster-child of chaos—we’ll have to leave its impacts on the world to our imaginations. And continue to marvel at the complex workings of our world.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
This poor bedraggled cactus looks like he’s just survived a pretty epic cage match. I found him in the lobby of the Hotel Indigo in El Paso, bathed in purple-y/pinky hipster light. And after a long day of travel I thought “I feel you, man.”
Seymour
My glasses with transitions lens were very happy to see me after I left them sitting on a table in the sunlight. (In case you can’t tell, the nose piece is the source of the exceedingly happy inverse shadow.)
Moriah
Who’s a fancy cactus? It’s Moriah, decked out in her pink fruit. Prickly pears give lots of opportunities for pareidolia fun. But this favorite of mine I discovered on a walk in Silver City, NM.
When your dominant hand fails you, it’s time to call in the back up. And it’s hella awkward.
I’m officially “that” age. You know, the one where you start racking up bodily failures simply due to a lifetime of use. Which is on top of the lingering effects of one-off past injuries, of course.
So yes, I’m at the “everything hurts” stage of life. I’ve dealt with the chronic fucking pain of Frankenleg for over a decade now but that’s a different category than the standard-issue getting-old aches and pains. This is the time of life when you simply sneeze and you throw out your back. Don’t ask me how I know this.
But the latest voice to join into the chorus is my right thumb. Or my carpometacarpal joint to be more precise. That’s the big thumb joint closest to the wrist.
And stick a fork in it, ’cause it’s done.
Big Fish
Obviously this didn’t happen overnight. I’d been noticing stiffness and aching building for a couple of years—ever-so-gradually, of course. I certainly thought “I should have someone look at that” along the way. But there were always other bigger fish to fry.
Until the thumb decided it wanted to be the biggest fish. And it decided the ideal time for that was when I picked up my knitting again in January. I left it behind when we went on the road and hadn’t gotten back to it with life being consumed by other things.
And holy hell, that’s when the giant fish jumped out of the water and into the boat, stared its beady eyes straight into mine and screamed,
“You will fucking pay attention to me!“
My right carpometacarpal joint
Fun with x-rays
So, in spite of the challenges of getting medical care in our small town (it’s really big issue here, by the way), I managed to get in with an orthopedic doc in town.
He did some poking and prodding and made a preliminary diagnosis that, yes the joint is shot and—oh, by the way, welcome to middle age. The x-rays confirmed his diagnosis. Along with the revelation that there’s basically zero cartilage left in the joint.
The most dramatic part was when he was explaining how the joint is “supposed” to work.
“You see how the end of your metacarpal is out here?”
“Mmm hmmmm,” I replied pensively.
“Yeah, that’s supposed to be over here,” he said pointing to an area that was quite far from where the end of the bone actually is right now.
So essentially, arthritis has pushed the end of the bone so far out of alignment, it’s not sliding in the joint like it’s supposed to. Throw in the absence of cartilage and you have all the ingredients for a Constant-Pain CocktailTM.
The bonus in the x-ray viewing party was seeing the arthritis blob around my ulnar collateral ligament repair from back in 2014. I knew it would be impressive given the gnarly-ass bump I can see from the outside. But seeing it from the inside? Even more fun.
Big fun back in 2014 to repair my ulnar collateral ligament. Good times, good times.
The conservative approach
I wasn’t quite ready to sign up for surgery on the spot. I mean—call me crazy—but I needed a minute to absorb the info. And to accept I can’t PT (“Physical Therapy”) my way out of this one unlike other injuries.
So we opted for a slower path that got me some relief. That involved an aggressive round of steroids and a splint. And orders to take it easy on my poor thumb. We’d see what that course of action got me and revisit the surgery question when I was ready.
Which gets us to the “learning to be a lefty” stage of this little adventure.
Well, this is awkward
Obviously switching to my non-dominant hand is awkward AF. But I’m getting grudgingly better at it in terms of the motor skills. The largest hurdle is remembering to do everything possible with my left hand.
And after the initial few weeks of constantly wearing a big honkin’ brace, I’m dialed down to an as-needed basis. And I filled out my suite of support devices to include smaller ones for different scenarios. They still provide support and protection but don’t keep my wrist immobile. ‘Cause that’s a suck fest and was a huge source of frustration. And unnecessary.
The biggest benefit right now with the braces, though, is it reminds me to avoid using my right hand. Otherwise I default to it out of habit, especially when I’m in a hurry. And I pay the price later in terms of pain.
Overall, the retraining-myself-to-be-more-of-a-lefty has resulted in only moderate (at best) success so far. I drop and fumble a lot of things. And I find myself using my right hand for quick assists, especially when not wearing a reminder brace.
The original mondo brace only used for yard work now.The daily tasks brace.The computer-work brace.Sign me up for fashion week cause I’ve got some great looks going on right now.
Temporary status quo
But, the tasks I am maneuvering as a lefty—along with those I’m avoiding altogether—have given me enough relief to manage the pain for now.
Knitting is an absolute no-go. I powered through finishing the giant blanket I was working on for my eldest kiddo’s birthday, then put it all away yet again.
One really big elephant in the room is the problem joint is in my throttle hand. The Adventure Beast is a modern machine and doesn’t need more than a light touch. But there is something about that particular grip motion—as light as it is—that is especially aggravating to the bum thumb. So the fun-factor of riding is down a helluva a lot right now.
Gratuitous Adventure Beast picture just for shits and giggles.
And the old beast of a sidecar? Oh hell no, not riding that with its stiff 20th-century throttle. Not happening. That’s a big ole Nopety McNoperson. Just thinking about it makes my hand ache.
But the sneakiest thing that has crept in is I realized I’ve been avoiding using my “real” camera. Gripping it and manipulating the buttons has been one of the tougher things to work around. And I’ve unintentionally backed off from using it.
I’ve been defaulting to my smart phone which I can do more with my left hand. That’s not where I need to be with something that’s crucial to my life and livelihood. No bueno.
Powering through the blanket finish with the big brace sheathed so it wouldn’t keep snagging the yarn.
Slicing in the New Year
The range of motion in that thumb is deteriorating noticeably in spite of me doing “home PT” exercises. Which means I’ll need to have the surgery soon-ish before the damn thing is unusable at all.
But—you might have noticed—the health care system in the U.S. is a fuck-all shit show to end all shit shows. So I’ll be spending the next few months doing some financial and insurance hoop-jumping to set myself up to ring in the new year by getting sliced and diced.
Water transforms our landscapes every day. And the geomorphology nerd in me loves every minute of it.
I have a lot of strong feelings about water being a geology nerd. If you want to get more specific, I go full-dork for geomorphology. It’s the study of surficial processes to oversimplify a bit. And I get fuck-all giddy over it.
And water is huge operator in geomorphology. It transforms our landscape every day. Sometimes in big, sudden events—floods and tsunamis for example. But mostly in little ways every day like freeze-thaw cycles that slowly break down massive monoliths. Or rivers that slowly carve their way through ancient rocks like in the Grand Canyon.
I could go on and on—there are endless examples of how water shapes the world. And I’m trying to rein in my geomorphology dork right now because this is supposed to be a short post, not a ten thousand word love letter to water as a geomorphological agent. The struggle is real.
Anyway, feel free to join me in marveling at what water is doing all around us in our everyday lives. Most of the work it’s doing slow and imperceptible unless you’re paying attention. Water likes to play a long game that way.
So if you see anything cool you’d like to share, drop a comment. I’m here to dork out with you.
As for this week’s image, it’s from the Columbia River Gorge at Multnomah Falls. Talk about a dramatic example of the power of water to shape our world.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve is big in many ways with its dramatic dunes, mountains, and vistas. More than that, it holds a big place in my life.
Y’all know by now how much I love Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. I’ve spent a lot of time there enjoying the amazing dynamic landscape that gets the latent geologist in me very excited.
Yes, it’s home to North America’s tallest sand dune, the 750-foot tall Star Dune. And a multitude of 11,000-foot-plus mountain peaks of the Sangre de Cristo range. So it’s “big” in that sense.
But it’s big for me personally as well. I’ve gotten bigger there—growing my outdoor skills and pushing my comfort zone. And working to become a better photographer and writer.
More so than any of that, Great Sand Dunes has been big place for me emotionally. I’ve spent a lot of time there figuring out my life. And healing.
I’ve done a whole lot of big contemplation and growing there in the shadow of those big dunes.
So yes, it’s a damn big place to me personally. It’s quite deserving of the full tattoo sleeve that adorns my right arm. It may be that calling it “big” for me is an understatement.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Our home renovation project has taught us that the amount of glass in our house is a quality of life issue.
I’ve long imagined how amazing this sun room must have been in its heyday. This huge stretch of windows was in a historic cabin at Elkmont in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
I visited it from time to time during my Tremont photography workshops. I’d gaze through the glass into the now-decrepit haven and picture myself there. How amazing must have it have been to sit there immersed in the Smokies and enjoying the view but still have a sanctuary from weather and insects? Glass is an amazing invention that way.
By contrast, in our little shit show of a house we’re renovating, there is a distinct lack of glass. It’s a poorly designed mid-1970s house. And I do mean very fucking poorly designed. To the point of absurdity.
Sometimes I think windows were an after thought in its design. Yet it does have a striking 9-foot wide sliding door. That’s a lot of glass in one spot for this little house. Given our modest square footage it’s ridiculously disproportionate. But at the same time it’s fabulous—and one of the crucial elements that made this house worth taking on.
As for the rest of the house, we’ve enlarged and added windows to get more glass. Our efforts have dramatically increased air flow and natural light. But the basic house design presented limitations to how much we could do.
Those changes we could make though, have improved the livability and enjoyability of this long-abused and unloved little house by leaps and bounds. And it’s good enough under the circumstances.
Even though our view isn’t of the glorious forests of the Smokies, a little more glass does give us a better view of our emerging native garden—the little sanctuary we’re nurturing day by day.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Growing isn’t just for young’uns. We adults need to keep growing too.
Now that I have your attention with cute little puppies—and a very tired-looking mama—let’s get down to business.
You probably thought I’d be sharing a plant image this week, huh? To be fair, when I saw the theme for this week’s Bluesky Art Show, my brain immediately swirled through my mental image catalog and called up dozens of shots in my library that would fit the bill. I am a plant nerd after all.
But that going that route would have been the easy thing to do. And this week we’re talking about growing. Which is usually not easy.
So I searched for other kinds of images that evoked the concept of growing. That was a much harder task but I eventually came across these little cuties.
And, per usual when I’m going through this process each week, I ponder the deeper meanings of the topic. The notion that stuck with me this time is that growing isn’t just for young’uns. At least not in the figurative sense.
We humans are naturally curious creatures so seeking out ways to learn and grow even as adults is largely innate. But it can get crushed by the weight of adulthood.
So it seems the growth challenge is often to combat that. And when you hit snags and obstacles, looking for ways to overcome them. Or in some cases, creating the framework to get unstuck.
Easier said than done, I know. But imperative if we want to make the most of our short time on this planet.
As for the story behind this week’s shot, these are sweet puppies we came across at Rancho Meling on one of my birthday rides in Baja. And this is about the only time these curious, energetic pups were still.
The rest of the time they were in full puppy mode—exploring, learning, and growing. And yes, getting into mischief much to mama’s dismay.
If you feel like you need to go to a quiet place for a noise vacation, you’re probably right.
It’s a marvel to experience true quiet. Which is a rarity for most of us. Our busy, built worlds are filled with the overwhelming noise of humanity.
Being one who’s done a lot of outdoors-y shit, I’ve had many opportunities to be wrapped in the astonishing quiet of remote natural places.
And unless you’ve had that, it’s hard to remember what true quiet is. In these natural spaces, the quietness amplifies how insanely fucking noisy our world is. And how overstimulated we are because of it.
But the constant noise of humanity has been normalized so, collectively, we’ve largely forgotten what it’s like to not be surrounded by it all. of. the. damn. time.
And I think for many who have never had a quiet outdoor experience to calibrate from, it might be uncomfortable to be in a place like this. I suspect it might feel like a void to be filled instead of a richness to savor.
The reality is that there’s still a lot we don’t know about the impact of noise pollution on our health. But growing evidence suggests it’s way more problematic for our health and quality of life than we currently give it credit for.
Anyway, that’s a massive topic that won’t fit into this little postcard. Maybe I’ll dig deeper into it another time. I just wanted to remind you that if you’re feeling like everything is so damn loud all the time, you’re right. It is. And maybe it’s a sign to get out into the wild and take a noise vacation, even for just a day.
So here’s a shot of a quiet alpine lake in the Seven Devils of Idaho for inspiration. Whether you’ve had the chance to be in a quiet place like this before or not, I hope you can picture yourself there, soaking up the quiet.
Peace out.
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Open wide! The Plaza of the Alligators statue in El Paso gave me the opportunity to step out of the obvious landscape shots for this week’s postcard.
Sure, I have lots of “wide” shots of the gorgeous landscapes in our national parks. But I knew I’d be traveling to El Paso this week and I thought it would be fun to capture the wide-open gaping maw of the gator in this statue. You know, just to break away from the predictable interpretation of this week’s theme.
My dear man and I have been exploring El Paso over the last couple of years as part of our Southwest Art Towns efforts. The city and its history are absolutely fucking fascinating. We’re history dorks that way.
Our rhythm is to stay downtown so we can stroll to dinner and other attractions—mainly museums—from our hotel. That means we visit the San Jacinto Plaza at the heart of Downton El Paso a bunch when we’re there.
At the center of the plaza is this statue commemorating the history of alligators there. I have more than a few shots of this statue but most of them are “usies” with our goofy mugs in them. Or they aren’t composed to highlight this particular portion of the statue showing this gator with his mouth open wide.
My first attempt at capturing it was a bust. The light was too harsh and contrast-y. So—damn!—I had to go to dinner and come back afterwards when the sun was lower.
But later, with my belly full of tacos and chicharrones and the light softer on the statue, I grabbed this shot to share with you.
If you’re ever in El Paso, be sure to check out the great restaurants, murals, and museums downtown. And say hi to the gators for me.
Peace out!
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
Screw the “niche” rules. This is a personal blog. And I’ll write what I want.
I’ve been blogging a long fucking time. Sometimes vigorously. And sometimes not.
I’ve weathered the trends and fads of blogging. I’ve muddled through the technological changes as platforms and tools have advanced over the years. And I’ve navigated my own changes as this blog has evolved and pivoted alongside the shifts in my life.
There’s a broad perspective only a certain amount of longevity in an arena can provide. And I feel like I’ve achieved that after fifteen-plus years into this blogging thing. You might consider it being able to see the forest for the trees thanks to the gift of time. (Y’all know I love me a good metaphor.)
Looking back
I declared in one of my annual birthday posts a while back that I was going to reinvigorate my efforts here, having been sporadic at best for a long damn time. As part of that process, I did a lot of soul-searching about where I’m going as a blogger.
Of course, sometimes in order to move forward you have to consider where you’ve been. And with over fifteen years to consider, I’ve certainly had lots of phases and iterations of this project to ruminate on.
Part of that rumination was considering the blogosphere in general over the last 15-20 years. Even though I’ve always kept it real here—it’s kinda my thing—there has always been pressure to conform with “the rules” of blogging. If I wanted to be “successful”, that is.
Fuck that.
Doubling down
One of those rules is that sites need to be not just niched, but hyper-niched. “Niche down” has become the advice cliche’ from the gurus. There have been times I thought if I heard “niche down” one more fucking time, I’m would lose my ever-loving fucking mind.
That doesn’t work for a personal blog like mine. Given this blog’s longevity and pivots along the way, that really doesn’t work. There are many folks out there who are trying to carve out a niche as an expert in their area, which does require hyper-specificity. Which is fine for them. They can rock on with their bad selves.
My blogging goal is different, though. I like connecting through personal experience. A personal blog is sort of a serial autobiography. And life stories don’t fit into a neat little box, do they?
So maybe my “niche” is simply being a fucking human. (Which I suppose may become a novelty now that the Pandora’s Box of AI has been opened.)
I think the “niche down” disconnect may be that the gurus operate under the assumption that we have the same goal—to go viral and be the biggest name in our area.
I don’t want to go “viral”. The hassle of that sounds like a fucking nightmare to me. ‘Cause let’s face it, that’s where the trolls live. I’d rather hang out with you—my thoughtful, steadfast readers.
The Future
Given my ups and downs with tending to this project, I’m working to make good on my promise to myself to be more dedicated to it. So as we barrel forward into the latter half of 2026, my goal is to write more in the moment.
I’m also pushing towards including more short form (e.g. Postcards) posts that would have simply been published on micro-blogging or social platforms in the past (e.g. Instagram, Facebook).
But given the hellscape of those platforms, it’s become crucial to publish here first. I’ll still share to those platforms in some form but it will be secondary to being in control of my content here.
I couldn’t find a shot of me giving two enthusiastic middle fingers so you get a goofy double thumbs up instead.
Bucking the system
This site runs on WordPress which is decidedly not a micro-blogging platform, though. You should see my SEO tool lose its ever-loving shit because I’m posting things that are under 300 words (among other offenses). It’s kind of fun to piss it off, to be honest.
But I also have a penchant for longer form posts so those won’t be going away. I’m just going to write what I write. That, and continue to mock my SEO tool over my morning coffee. It’s really just digital blood sport at this point.
Having said that, finding a consistent writing rhythm has been the biggest challenge. My dear man and I have a lot on our plate running our mini media empire. (We’ve sort of unleashed the Kraken with Southwest Art Towns which demands a lot of attention. As Kraken often do.)
I’m making progress on protecting my writing time, though. And I’m settling into the new path for Val in Real Life.
Moving forward
In the end, this is a personal blog. And my life isn’t one thing any more than yours is.
I’m writing what I want, unapologetically. If that makes me less successful, so be it.
But if what I have to say resonates with you, that makes me very happy. Thank you bearing with me while I pound my multi-faceted peg into the square hole of the internet.
How my online presence feels these days.
Let’s stay real together
I hope you find this blog to be a place to connect over life experiences, warts and all. And as I more carefully manage my social media presence as that landscape continues to devolve, meet me here. Leave comments and let’s chat.
You can also sign up for my newsletter to get everything from the Val in Real Life world wrapped up in a neat little package.
Whether we’re aware of it or not, the curve is a compositional element our brains love. And ferns deliver a visual feast of them.
We humans innately love curves. Our brains just like them. Going deep into geometric pscyhology is way more than bit beyond the scope of this post but it is fascinating. I’m a nerd, what can I say?
In art and photography, curves are super appealing to the eye. They can be conspicuous or subtle, but either way, our brains eat them up. And even when they’re not as obvious as a something like a sinuous road or river, they guide us through the image.
Photographers and other artists are trained early on about the importance of these kinds of compositional elements that make a piece “work”. You, the viewer, may not be thinking “That’s a great fucking curve!” but you know the image or piece is appealing.
Anyway, I spent a good bit of time with these two fern fiddleheads during one of my Tremont workshops. They’re a curve bonanza and fun to shoot. The bonus of the spiderweb was exciting, too.
I started began that morning’s shoot doing broader landscapes. But, per usual, I ended up in the dirt, fascinated but the tiny details of the world at my feet.
What can I say? That’s what my brain loves.
Cheers, friends!
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Bluesky Art Show
This post is inspired by the Bluesky Art Show, a challenge to share artwork surrounding a weekly themeeach Saturday.
