rus vanwestervelt

IGNITE. EVOLVE. TRANSCEND.

Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category

September 13th, 2009 by rusvw

Sunday Prayers

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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.

August 12th, 2009 by rusvw

It’s a Natural World: Some Summer of ’09 Photos

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.

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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. . . .

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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. . . .

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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.

black rat snake

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.

diamondback terrapin juvenile

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.

silver spotted skipper closeup

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.

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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. . . .

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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. . . .

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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. . . .

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

July 25th, 2009 by rusvw

Tranquility: Peace in Process

Tranquilityphoto: 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.

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July 20th, 2009 by rusvw

Summer of 2009: Day 5 in OC, Part II

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…

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

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

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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.

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

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

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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 »

July 19th, 2009 by rusvw

Summer of 2009: Ocean City, Day 5, Early Morning

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…

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Fishing on the rocks

Morning Beach

Turbulent Waters

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Franklin Lands

Water under the pier

Moorings

July 12th, 2009 by rusvw

Grasshopper in the Field

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:

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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:

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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… :)

July 11th, 2009 by rusvw

Hiking to Patapsco Valley State Park

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. :)

winding path

twisted wood

train tracks

spiderweb

raspberries

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March 29th, 2009 by rusvw

Grains of Faith

My day ended on Friday with a few of my students performing an impromptu and largely unintentional intervention. They gathered around my desk–again, unintentionally–and randomly offered some stern advice that I needed to take a breather, that Spring Break couldn’t come soon enough. They even offered that my tension had worn off on a few others, including themselves, and that just wasn’t good at all.

I agreed with them. How could I argue? It had been a stressful week: club photo shoots, senior superlative voting, teaching at Towson U on Tuesday/Thursday, the end of the quarter approaching, two book projects nearing completion, Lines of Love soaring (such a wondrous thing, that), and my own writing emerging from some inner depth that couldn’t wait a moment more for some light in my daybook.

Throw in a few lacrosse practices, gymnastics sessions, Brownies, birthday parties, and Love and Fishes (all good, mind you–every part of it for my girls)…Yeah, you can see how it all came together in some kind of critical mass situation.

They were right. I was beat, and I needed some kind of retreat, a return to innocence, in the words of Enigma. The weekend seemed quite busy, though, with gymnastics practice Friday evening, and then a long drive to Ocean City for the OC Twisters Beach Party Invitational gymnastics meet. This would be Holland’s last meet before States in mid-April, so it was a big deal.

Trips to Ocean City have always been refreshing for me, a sort of rebooting of the soul in my return to my piscean roots: the water. But I saw little respite with this trip; the meet was Saturday night in a small gym about 20 minutes outside of Ocean City, and we would have little time to enjoy the beach. I just felt like the entire experience would be the antithesis of what I needed. Instead of providing some much-needed R&R like my kids told me I needed, I feared that it would just tease me, being so close to the water with no time to enjoy, especially in the solitude that I crave whenever near the shoreline.

We packed the Jeep and were on the road by 9:45 Saturday morning. A few stops for gas, food, and of course the bathroom breaks for my kids, put us at the Francis Scott Key Family Resort a little after 1 p.m. Check-in wasn’t until 3 p.m., though, and suddenly we found a few hours of free time to head into Ocean City.

We were all so hungry, so we stopped at the Bayside Skillet for a breakfast-for-lunch meal that topped out at $75 (welcome to Ocean City–who says it has to be summertime to blow a lot of cash in mere minutes?). We still had plenty of time to relax before we checked in (and the open-gym time for Holland wasn’t until 6:30), so we headed for the beach. We pulled over on 77th Street right by the dunes, and headed straight for the water.

And there it was, waiting for me as always. True, dependable, devoted, loving, ever-faithful.

The sounds of the waves pushing and pulling the sand along the early spring shore found me first as I made my way along the sandy path, with each side roped off to discourage further erosion of the natural barrier of grasses and sand bars. My heart fell in rhythm with the ebb and the flow of the water’s pulse, and I could not fight it; I could not resist the luring toward the waves as my eyes met the beauty of the outgoing tide. With it went my stress, my tension, all of my worries from a week that suddenly seemed too distant to recall, too distant to worry over.

I stood before the waves, lapping at my feet, sinking in the sand as I succumbed fully to this return to innocence. And it was in those moments of cleansing, of absolute clarity, that I allowed the memories to fill me.

I smiled as the pulse of the ocean was the soundtrack to my experiences along these shores. I remembered vividly the early morning walks before sunrise, the late-night runs with friends, shoes in hand. The solitary moments with guitar, listening to the rhythm of the waves and building a jam around their lead. The many-hundred walks along the cliffs fossiling. The photos, the sketches, the solace.

Just like that–in seconds, all of these experiences returned to me, a collection of memories with the underlying theme of love running through them all. Some of them were from decades ago when I was much younger; others were from our last visit just a year ago October. All of them, though, were pegs in my memories of what has mattered most in my life, all captured through the wonderful and terribly simple art of creating experiences.

These grains of sand that swirled around my feet, as the roar of the ebb-and-flow played on and on, nibbled on my toes like little reminders of the things that give us hope: love, of course, but through the relationships we build with others, or even through greater spirits that guide us along the way. “Plugging in” to the ocean’s life force this weekend recharged me with the energy and focus I need to carry on in this final week before Spring Break, where new and refreshing charges await.

We left the ocean and returned to our motel room, and then proceeded to the Invitational, where Holland placed first All-Around for the second consecutive meet. Then today, before leaving for home, we spent a few hours at Ocean City and then at Assateague, where I somehow transcended the experiences from the previous day. We combed the beach, looking for shells and other sea relics, as an early-afternoon mist enveloped us in its warm, humid cocoon. We felt protected, shielded from the less-than-natural elements that awaited us back home.

These were not experiences to leave on the beach. They joined the other memories within us, and I have no doubt that, on our trip back in a few months, they will resurface and bring us a much-needed warmth and energy to carry us beyond the stresses of day-to-day living.

Before we left the sand and the shells and the pulse of the water’s ebb and flow, I turned to face the waves just once more, close my eyes, and offer thanks for the faith in such memories, as well as for the love of good friends.

When you put the two together, it’s a powerful surge of belief that tomorrow always holds promise–for you, for me, for all of us. <3

February 15th, 2009 by rusvw

Returning Home

I know that, for each of us, the title of this post means something a little different.

And I am sure, as well, that nearly immediately after reading the title, you thought a little to yourself what that means: Returning home.

For me, I did that yesterday morning, just a little after sunrise, on the NCR Trail (now dubbed the TCB Trail officially, but that’s probably the last time you’ll ever see or hear me refer to it that way), in northern Baltimore County.

I have always felt a great affinity for the woods, the shore line, the mountains. And it doesn’t take much immersion for me to feel like I have returned home to a place that is both as natural and comforting to me as any childhood dwelling might be for others.

I am at greatest peace, and feel my strongest, when surrounded by nature.

To those of you who know me, it is my Querencia.

First, the history, then yesterday’s ride.

I spent more than half of my childhood days in the outdoors. At just six months, I was tenting all over the region with my parents and older sister (I’m not sure if any of my brothers were still camping with us when I started; they were all in their teens when I was born). My parents had a few favorite spots they would go to when I was older, like Morris Meadows, Gettysburg, Harper’s Ferry, Cape Henelopen, and various places along the Susquehanna in Pennsylvania. We also stayed close to parks along the Chesapeake as well as the Appalachian Trail.

Life didn’t change much when we got rid of the tent and started using a truck camper. These were the memories with my sister that I will treasure forever. It seemed like there was never enough to do once we arrived at the campground: fishing, swimming, community center, miniature golf, hiking, and meeting and reuniting with camping friends.

The pit fires in the evening were nearly spiritual, as we all stared into the flames, sharing stories and just absorbing the moments, both personally and together. There’s something about the campfire that transcends most other community experiences. The silence, broken at times by the crackle of the fire, is reverent. You just can’t get that in front of a television or computer, no matter what might be airing.

As I got older, I started camping on my own, taking hikes still along the Chesapeake and the Appalachian Trail, communing with nature with close friends as we day-tripped or sojourned for three days or more, immersed in all that was natural, peaceful.

Along the trail or on the shores, I always felt like I understood my place in this world, where I remembered that I was never greater than all that surrounded me. Having this respect, this reverence, was a wonderfully humbling experience that I was able to hold on to when I was back on concrete walks and in man-made buildings.

That’s how I knew–and still know–that my true home, my querencia, is in the woods, along the trail, and on the shores. For it is here that I am most spiritual and cognizant of my place in this world.

Yesterday morning, I went for a short, 8-mile ride, and I felt that spirituality again, that calling to return home. The call is so great in my heart today, and I am scrambling, looking for the time to get back there.

Immersing myself in nature is a constant for me. It’s something that is as natural as breathing, and when I make the effort to shift a few of my priorities and return to the woods, I find that the rest of my life falls into place simply and without effort.

I’ll do everything I can to keep centered in this, to thread the experiences close enough together so that my return home is not a a day-trip reunion but a longer walk, a thru-hike through life, that helps me handle the day-to-day stresses along those concrete walks and in man-made buildings. . . .