It’s 8:23 p.m., and I’ve just returned from taking some friends to their parents’ home in Lutherville. Their power has been out since 5 this morning, and the temperature was hovering around 50 degrees before I picked them up. BGE has no idea when their power will return. They couldn’t take the chance–not with two kids and a dog. Now, the family is safe and warm. Thank goodness for the Jeep, which navigated brilliantly through both trips.

The condition of the roads is grossly inconsistent, sometimes between stretches of just a few hundred feet. It makes little sense to me how two-lane roads are in better shape than major thoroughfares. They are, though, and some even have dry pavement. The worst road is, ironically enough, my own. Every other road I was on has been plowed at least once.

Not that this makes me think we’ll have school on Monday, or even Tuesday, for that matter. I noticed that some of the side streets that I passed were untouched–not even a pedestrian had strolled along the street; the space between the quiet houses seemed more like a common pasture, smoothed with the expertise of a master pastry chef putting the final touches on a classy, yet simple sheet cake.

Cars parked along roads are buried, and the snow that’s been plowed from the streets has been pushed against (and often over) the cars, making them virtually invisible. It will be days before these cars are unburied and able to move along the streets.

Even Governor O’Malley stated this evening that motorists should stay off the roads “for the next few days.” With temperatures dipping to 10-15 degrees each of the next few nights, I wonder how successful snow plows will be in shaving the ice off the side streets before our next storm hits on Tuesday and into Wednesday. A wintry mix is predicted Tuesday, with all snow anticipated for the evening and into Wednesday with driving winds.

With this additional mid-week storm, It’s my belief that we’ll be out of school until next Tuesday, and that’s assuming that yet another storm predicted for next weekend doesn’t materialize. If if does, though, we could be looking at an additional 2-3 days off of school, racking up a total of 12-13 days off of school.

The last thing any school system wants is a second winter break. The only silver lining is that, as long as the state of emergency exists across Maryland, school systems have the right to apply for a waiver and have those missed days excused from the required 180 days of classroom instruction.

We’ll see what happens. For now, let’s keep helping our neighbors in our community. Check in on those who might need prescription refills, or who might just need a call to let them know someone’s concerned about them.

Until tomorow: stay safe…and warm!

10:13 a.m. Good morning.

This is the view of our front yard/street at 8:30 a.m. (This would be a great I-Spy picture: can you find a car by a tree?). We’ve already measured 24+ inches of heavy, heavy snow, and it’s not supposed to end for another 8 hours. The sustained winds are blowing at 20-35 miles per hour. This storm is on track to be the worst snowstorm in Baltimore’s history. The greatest unofficial storm happened in January 1772, when George Washington and Thomas Jefferson recorded in their journals, separately, that 36 inches of snow fell in both Baltimore and Washington.

We are fortunate to still have our power. Between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m., we lost power on three separate, brief occasions. What made it flicker, and how it came back on, we do not know. No need to question the gift of electricity, though. Our friends have been without power since 3 a.m., and they were without power for nearly 24 hours during the last storm. They are just one family comprising the ever-growing statistic of 126,000 power outages in the Baltimore region. It is possible that, in the next 24 hours, that number will double, if not triple. Temperatures are in the mid-20s and will continue to fall to 14 degrees or lower in the evening. Sustained winds of 15-24 miles per hour will create a wind-chill index near zero degrees.

We’ll head out in about an hour and begin the long and arduous process of digging out. I don’t foresee taking the Jeep for a ride before 4 p.m., if it will even be possible then.

I will post pictures of the dig-out, and if we’re fortunate to get the Jeep on the road before sunset, I’ll do my best to get photos of how the rest of Baltimore looks.

Until then, we are grateful for the comfort and safety of our home, and our thoughts and prayers to those around us who are doing their best to stay warm without electricity. Feel free to post updates from your area in the comments section of this post.

(all photos taken with my Blackberry Curve this morning)

One of the things I’ve always enjoyed doing is confronting nature’s elements head-on. It’s one of the quickest ways to feel as alive as I possibly can.

Thoreau put it this way in “Where I Lived, and What I Lived For” in Walden:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

This morning, life indeed proved mean, and I got the whole and genuine meanness of it.

Trina, my ever-adventurer friend, and I decided a few days ago it would be a good idea to go for an early-morning bike ride on the NCR Trail. For those of you who don’t know, this is one of those Rails to Trails projects, where old railroad tracks are pulled up and the existing path is converted to a walking/biking trail. The NCR Trail currently runs from Cockeysville, MD to the Pennsylvania line (about 20 miles), where it then turns into the York County Heritage Trail. It then continues north for another 21 miles to York, PA. The incline gradation ranges from 1% to 3%, so it’s a very easy ride. Easy, that is, in normal weather conditions.

Trina wanted to head out at 5:30, as she needed to be off-trail by 8 a.m. I did the math at what time I’d have to get up to meet her there at that time (we were starting at Monkton Station, nearly 25 minutes away), and I pleaded for a 6 a.m. start. We agreed that if we prepped well enough and got right on the trail when we arrived, we could bump it up to 6.

That still meant at least an hour of darkness before sunrise, and taping flashlights to our handlebars last time didn’t exactly work out like we had planned. So, we found some good bike headlights at REI for just $20. With a little bit of tweaking and $6 in bills to hold it securely in place around the bar, I found the light to be just exactly perfect for the ride.

The temperature was 17 degrees when we hit the trail a little after 6:15, and within the first mile, we hit serious patches of ice. We were not yet in any kind of groove, so it was tough navigating through this first icy stretch. By the time we hit the next patch, we were “warmed” up (there was no warming to speak of, but we had acclimated ourselves to the conditions), and we had better control of our bikes. It suddenly felt like we were in some kind of video game, where we needed to stay in the narrow paths of dry soil to stay on our bikes. One sudden move to the left or the right, and we’d lose control immediately.

This was especially hard to do in the dark. There were additional obstacles and challenges we faced, including fallen branches on the trail that our headlights couldn’t pick up until they were just a few feet away. To complicate matters even more, there were low-lying branches that were out of the headlight’s reach. A quick call to duck was all we were able to give each other. Some we missed, and some we didn’t.

When we reached the 4-mile point, we felt numb but pretty good. We decided to push on for another two miles, but almost immediately we hit a serious stretch of ice that was impassable. We figured we had reached our mid-way point and decided to turn around. I stopped to take a drink from my water bottle, which I had filled with tap water before we left.

No such luck. It was now a bottle of ice.

By this time, the sun had started to rise, and we were able to turn out our headlights and enjoy some of the sights along the trail (not to mention the low-lying branches!). The greatest surprise, by far, were the icicles on the rocks by the trail.

I wish we had had more time to really explore, but we still had miles to go, and by this time, we had lost all feeling in our toes and fingers. Besides, every time we stopped for pictures, it made it that much harder to get back into that cycling groove.

We made it back to Monkton with a few minutes to spare (and — no surprise — our SUVs were still the only vehicles in the lot), and we both felt euphoric that we had tackled the trail despite the bitter temperatures.

I haven’t lost that euphoria, even in the warmth of my home hours later. There’s just something about facing nature in her finest hour and taking in all she has to offer. It provides a good-natured, healthy perspective to the rest of your life, for living is so dear, and, as Thoreau suggests, there is much to learn when we live it fully.

Good Sunday, everyone.

A few days ago, I arrived home and was greeted by my screaming son, who wanted to know if I saw the praying mantis outside. I told him that I did not, and just as quickly as he told me all about the green-brown bug standing sentry by the front door. he vanished and resumed playing with his sister.

It wasn’t until we were ready to head out for dinner when he remembered about the bug by the door. He eagerly awaited the chance to run outside and check to see if he was still there. To my surprise, he was.

The praying mantis is such a good subject to photograph because they are amazingly still (much like the great blue heron I shot in yesterday’s post). I did not enlarge this photo at all. He was positioned and poised beautifully, and I felt like I had all the time in the world to get this shot (and a few others, which I will post at another time).

But that’s it, right? Positioned and poised beautifully. Stillness. Taking the time to savor even a few of the many moments in our hectic lives.

On this Sunday, may we all make the time to position ourselves with beautiful poise. The rest of the day may very well be filled with moments enriched with greater love.

Greetings, all:

I’ve been writing in various places, but I didn’t realize that so much time had passed since my last post here. I thought I’d spend a little time sharing my “best of” nature photos from the last few months. All of these photos were taken with my Nikon D300 with a Nikkor 105 mm 2.8 VR macro lens, better known, in all loving ways, as Bellatrix. So here we go. . . .

1. Preflight. This first picture was taken at Full Moon Farms in Finksburg, MD. My son and I were on our bellies in the grass as my daughter was in the middle of her horseback riding lesson. Suddenly, Braeden found this little guy, and I snapped a few photos. As is the case with most of the pictures in this lot, you need to get into their world with a little respect before you can capture it accurately.

2. Cycle of Maturity. Taken in Marriottsville as we hiked with a close friend. What astounded me most about this cluster of berries is the staging of maturity, all in one tight group. Sometimes, growing up can be a little less attractive than who we turn out to be. . . .

3. In Flight. Taken in Ocean City, MD, on the beach. We were surrounded by hundreds of sun worshippers, and yet it seemed that nature still presented itself in so many ways. Sometimes, all we have to do is be still and open our eyes to all that surrounds us beyond the bikinis and the beach towels. . . .

4. Sleepy Slithers. Taken at Oregon Ridge Nature Center, a baby black rat snake in captivity. I was fortunate that this little guy was so tired and still, as it gave me a little time to play around with my settings. I switched over to aperture priority to increase my depth of field as much as possible. Fortunately, I was able to place the edge of the lens against the glass and stable it for the long, half-second exposure time.

5. Youth Descending. Taken at the Oregon Ridge Nature Center, a juvenile Northern Diamondback Terrapin, in captivity. One of the nice features of the D300 is that it has 51 focal points, a powerful option that, when mastered, will be used quite frequently. I see now, in hindsight, how I could have used that here to manipulate the focal point to the terrapin’s nose to ensure greater focus on the most important part of the picture–his expression. Lesson learned, and I look forward to playing around with this feature more during my next shoot.

6. Deep in the Drill Zone. Taken at Oregon Ridge Nature Center, outdoors in a wild butterfly garden; subject is a Silver-Spotted Skipper. I need glasses for just about everything in my life, including putting one foot in front of the other. What I like so much about the D300 is that the eye piece has a corrective lens, and so I can shoot without my glasses and still focus manually to get shots like this.

7. Spatial Relations. Taken at Full Moon Farms, while waiting for Madelyn to tack up for her lesson. I don’t find this photo particularly strong, especially in its focus. There was the gentlest of breezes blowing, but it was significant enough to move the leaf while taking this shot.  However, it was the first macro shot I took with Bellatrix, and I am deeply fond of it for the memory of my reaction when I viewed it in the field.

8. Everlasting Ripples. Taken at Full Moon Farms. This knot in an old log, long since chopped away for unknown and seemingly forgotten reasons, reminded me of the song “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead, where there is no pebble tossed, no wind to blow. Still, the ripple remains as a reminder of the “forever effect” we have on other’s lives. May what we leave behind be as beautiful. . . .

9. Steady Wins the Race. Taken at Loch Raven Reservoir, Box Turtle. My kids found this little guy in the grass, and at first he was predictably shy. I got down in the grass, and we all stayed very still. Within a few minutes, he summoned the courage to move, and once he did, he moved very, very quickly! It took him less than a minute to clear the field and seek cover under the brush by the water.

10. Sunset at Assateague. Like the title implies, this was taken at Assateague National Seashore, at sunset. I was meticulous in the timing of this shot, and I received a little bonus with the boat on the water.

11. Floral Floatation. Taken at Full Moon Farm, by the stables; this flower was one of dozens exploding out of a hanging basket. This was the first picture I shot on “Raw” setting, which takes full advantage of the camera’s 12 million-plus pixels. Unfortunately, when you take a photo like this, and the file is a whopping 16 mb in size, you lose so much of the brilliant, 14-bit color when you have to reduce it to a 1.5 mb file to upload here or place on Facebook. When I print these professionally, the color resolution will be much more vibrant in its full size.

12. Clover Connection. Taken at Full Moon Farm, outside of the indoor ring. I’ve had the opportunity to shoot a lot of bumblebees this summer. I think I like this one the best, though, because of the detail in the wings as well as in the clover.

13. Dunes Infinitum. Assateague Island National Seashore. Once again, shot on my belly.

14. Following Zen. Taken at the exit at the Assateague Island Marsh Trail, just before sunset. Sometimes, you have to go in the other direction to find balance. . . .

14. Thistle To-Be. Taken at Loch Raven Reservoir on a particularly humid mid-morning. Went back a few days later to see how it had bloomed, and it had disappeared completely. . . .

Now it’s your turn to tell me which is your favorite….and why. Thanks for stopping by!

photo: http://alittlecrafty.com

I’ve always been fascinated with Chinese characters, and the symbol for Tranquility is one that means a great deal to me.

Quite literally, the symbol depicts male dominance in the Chinese tradition, where the smaller symbol of a man’s “roof” hovers over the symbol for “woman.”

I like the explanation provided in The Spirit of the Chinese Character, by Barbara Aria. She writes, “…[the symbol] has a richer meaning, reflecting the parallel between microcosm and macrocosm. Just as a harmonious relationship between man and woman brings tranquility to the heart, peace comes when universal energies are in harmony—the forceful, creative energy of heaven above, and the gentle, receptive energy of the earth below.”

Growing up in the Chesapeake Bay region, I have lived my life surrounded by the more natural forces of tranquility, as land and water constantly battle for domination among the brackish tributaries of Chesapeake. I know. That sounds so contradictory, doesn’t it? Talking about forces and battles and domination when it comes to tranquility just seems so…unnatural.

Tranquility, though, is rooted in discipline and respect; it is the reward for the efforts put forth to achieve such a balance.

The hard part, of course, is reminding ourselves that the battle to find that balance is well worth the tranquility that follows.

My wife is gifted in the kitchen; she has the patience and natural talent to take somebody’s culinary creation and make it her own. It doesn’t come without a great deal of labor, though. She might spend hours contemplating the right spices—and their exact amounts—to compliment the main ingredient and make the meal just exactly perfect.

After all the hard work is over and we finally sit down at the table to enjoy the meal, we savor the labor and the sweat used to reach such perfection. Tranquility achieved.

Tranquility does not come without that hard work. We all yearn to find that peaceful view atop that faraway mountain or shore when the sun descends into the horizon, leaving us breathless; we forget the labor it took to take the long walk to get there in the first place.

As writers, we face that battle all the time, struggling through drafts and revisions to reach that moment of order where our writing might be considered even marginally close to providing a sense of tranquility for our readers. There’s nothing more comforting than finishing a good story and appreciating that order, that balance. We forget about the struggles the writer went through to achieve such balance.

As individuals, though, we don’t get the opportunity to display our “final drafts” of who we are on a daily basis. We live our lives in draft mode, battling that balance in full view to find those rare moments of tranquility as a result of our hard work to find that balance. Understanding that we are all in “draft mode” striving for that balance, that tranquility, might make us all a little more aware that our friends and loved ones (and even those we struggle with) are not too different from who we are.

We’re all just trying to get it right. We’re all looking for that moment that takes our breath away.

Let’s help each other breathe, so that we may enjoy the tranquility of being breathless.

What a magnificent day. From the early-morning shoot, to a day at the beach, then over to Assateague for a brilliant sunset, then back to the Boardwalk for a late-night walk, we could not have asked for a more complete and memory-filled day. Sunday served as our climactic “event” day of our vacation; now we wind down with a day at the beach, and them home on Tuesday. We will never be too grateful for the opportunity to be here, and for all of the wonderful times we have shared this past week.

I have a lot of pictures to post from Sunday, so I’m going to jump right in. Because there are so many, I am going to move many of them to a new page, which you can go to by following the link after the photos of the Assateague horses.

After my morning shoot, I came back to the condo, and we were on the beach by noon. The waves weren’t nearly as intense as they were on Saturday, and high tide was still over 5 hours away. We set up close to the water, and the kids immediately began building sand castles and digging for shells that the low tide provided them…

Braeden, obviously hard at work, measures his sand grain by precious grain.

Madelyn took the bold approach of digging and diving for her shells.

Madelyn gathers sand for a new castle, as the incoming tide gathers her reflection.

We then moved back to the condo, showered and re-dressed, and headed out for an early dinner at Hall’s Pizza, Soup, Salad, and Dessert Buffet, all for around $40 for the five of us. Not too bad at all. :)

It was then off to Assateague Island, where I was eager to capture the sun setting over the marshes of Sinepuxent Bay. First, of course, were the horses and the beach.

The wild Assateague ponies are not shy in letting you know that you are on THEIR beaches, just in case there was any doubt.

Probably my favorite of the wild ponies. Love the brown/white coat!

Every time we come to Assateague, I am left breathless by their beauty.

Ok. Please follow the link here to the rest of the day’s photos, including those of the sunset that left us all a little more breathless!

Read the rest of this entry »

Good morning.

I just don’t think I’m going to make it for a sunrise while we’re down here, at least not for a photo shoot. Truth is, I don’t have the lens for it, or the tripod. No worries…. :) Gives me good reason to sleep in a bit!

I did get up at 6 this morning to do an early-morning photo shoot of the Inlet and of southside bay. I stumbled across a novice fisherman wondering what to do with the horseshoe crab he caught, then meandered here and there, capturing more of the natural side of Ocean City before the crowds commandeered the beaches and the piers. Enjoy…

I never hesitate, now, to take my camera, Bellatrix, with me wherever I go, especially if it is an outdoor excursion. Even the simplest of trips, like taking my daughter to Full Moon Farms for her horseback riding lesson, provides opportunities that you need to be prepared for.

My son and I decided to watch her lesson from the grass, and at the end of the lesson, a bee landed between us on a small flower. I lay on my stomach and did my best to compose the shot, but the bee was just too busy. :) Here’s the best shot I could get:

As I was packing up the gear, my son saw a micro grasshopper that was no bigger than 1/8 inch in length. It was thinner than a blade of grass. I unpacked my gear, set my camera again, lay on the grass one more time, and took about a dozen shots. This is the best of them:

I think I’m getting the hang of using the macro settings on Bellatrix, even without the tripod (which wouldn’t have done any good in this situation anyway). I wish I would have closed the aperture just one more stop, but I’m pretty happy with the way that it turned out.

When we head down to the ocean this week, I’m going to shoot in the same manner, just with the ocean/water/beach as the theme to see what I come up with. I’ll have my laptop, so I’ll try to post daily.

I’m having a lot of fun, and I see the possibility in taking my best shots from this summer and making notecards out of them. If I did…would anybody be interested in buying a set? They make great holiday gifts… :)

Yesterday, the entire family joined Cara and her son for a walk to Patapsco Valley State Park. I was terribly unprepared for the walk, and I didn’t do much to prepare the others in my family as well. My mind, as much as my body, is still so out of shape when it comes to excursions off the beaten path.

It did not diminish our enjoyment in any way, though. It just made it….more interesting to navigate the trails with Crocks and flip-flops (not to mention lugging a 15-pound camera bag the entire time).

I cannot imagine hiking the trail three months ago when I was 20 pounds heavier. All I can do is think to the future about how enjoyable the hike will be in August, when I’ve dropped another 10 pounds (and I am more prepared!).

I was able to take some pictures, though. Enjoy. :)