SOTC 278/365

He is certainly not the toddler he once was... but he is still one of my best models.

Light

In the waning winter sky
the earth passes
around
the far corner of the sun

And
the darkness
creeping in

Retreats 





  - GB

Winter Settling In

It's that time of year again. Layers. Foggy glasses. Ice on my windshield. Three feet of snow lining the driveway. Dark when I leave for work, dark when I come home; not exactly sunny during the hours in between, either.

Oh, winter.

In glimpses here and there, I do see its beauty. Slow, fluffy flakes, gracefully twirling down to the earth. Frosted branches lining the River Valley. Pristine snow fields, and their sparkle on that rare, sunny day.

But I tell ya, on the whole, winter is not exactly inspiring. My drive to take pictures of its beauty are trumped by the cold. My desire to be active outdoors is as fleeting as the sunshine. While in the summer, I am bursting through the back door to get to my garden, my hammock, my bike--the winter sees me sprinting into the house after work to get to my PJs, my blanket, my TV.

(And while yes, snow blowing does come with some feeling of satisfaction, I must say, it's been eating up a significant amount of my free time, and I'm about done with it.)

One thing I have recognized this year, though... is that while my general cravings--sunshine, the outdoors, taking pictures--seem suppressed by the cold and dark of winter, I am far from entering into sloth. I have simply traded those things in for activities that--I think--are more reflective of the pace of winter. Hot baths. One really good book after another. Tea. Yes, I do take in more television--but I don't really watch trash. The shows I watch tend to be as riveting for me as a good book. Plus, I generally have a cat on my lap. Win.

It is a season of drawing in, rather than exploring.
A season of wrapping myself up rather than spreading myself out.
And that is okay, too.

SOTC 17/365

After a packed 12-hour work day, the frenetic pattern of the lights kinda reflects the pace of the day's activities...

WTF?! OR 322/365

So, I tried a low-light shot. Lying in bed, where the alpha waves of my brain start considering surrender to the beta waves. I took the shot five times, because I wasn't keeping the shutter open long enough the first two, and because I like at least a few options to choose from with my photos. This whole process was painful.

Never try to shoot yourself lying "asleep" in bed when it's actually time to be lying asleep in bed. Each shot took 5, then 6, then 8, 9, and 9 1/2 minutes. It was 11:45pm when I was all said and done, and by then, I tossed and turned a bit before finally falling asleep around 12:30. Good grief.

As I uploaded the last few days of photos just now, including this low-light bedtime shot, great confusion set in. The five photos are gone. You have got to be kidding me. I do remember deleting the three test shots that I took even before the five 'for-real's. But I didn't delete the real shots. I know I didn't delete the real shots. Especially the one with the cat in. It's hard to delete a photo by accident. I couldn't have deleted it. Did my camera glitch? ......Maybe I did delete it? All these ponderings running through my head. And then--what a waste of a half hour!!! Fumbling around, tired, with my camera in the dark, and I have nothing to even prove for it. It was not a masterpiece shot by any means--but it was what I wanted for the day.

Srsly.

Where's The File?!

196/365

'Kay, that was kind of fun :)

This Little Light OR 132/365

What a lovely evening for some outdoor winter photography. Night time photography in the winter in Canada is a process. Clothing must be layered. Spare batteries must be kept close to the body to stay warm and functional. Fingers must be kept warm but still have enough dexterity to manipulate buttons. It could be -30C or -3C, and you won't actually know 'til you get there!

Tonight was more on the -3C side of things, for which I was very thankful.

For the first time since living in Edmonton, I drove down to the surrounding town of Devon to take in the Devonian Botanical Gardens' yearly Luminaria display. Thousands of paper lanterns line the paths of the gardens; it is absolutely beautiful.

Upon entering the gardens, I simply stood for a minute to take it all in. The trail right in front of me went forward, and then dipped, and split into multiple trails, winding around a pond, over a bridge, and up past a Japanese gazebo.

I stopped once or twice in each section of trail to take pictures, as well as at several of the campfires to keep my fingers warm along the way! I spent two hours listening to the crunching of snow under many footsteps, the voices of carolers, and Christmas-spirited buzz* of other people taking in the surroundings.

Overall, a beautiful reminder of the Light that is so much a part of this holiday season, and the peace it brings to those who gather around it in community.

"We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own."

-- Ben Sweetland

*With the exception of the one child I heard pass by and declare, "You said there would be fun here, but there's not!"

My Turf

I lived in my condo for over three years. Six hundred square feet of cozy. In those three years I changed the orientation of my bed once, but did not alter the positioning of any other furniture or home fixtures. There was no point; there was no space. But because of the consistency and familiarity over time, I was pretty much one with my condo when it came to moving around in the dark. Umm, Gina? About a hundred years ago they invented this thing called a light bulb. Why would you move around in the dark? Come on, you know what I'm talking about. When the light switch is on the opposite side of the room but what you seek is in closer range, or when your eyes are adjusted to the dim night-time ambiance and light would just be painful. It's easier just to do the small task in the dark. And in my condo, I was good at it.

Getting up to go pee in the middle of the night; child's play. Going from bedroom to kitchen to turn off my cell phone after I realized--ten minutes after settling into bed--that I left it on; smooth sailing. Grabbing a quick snack at a commercial; good to go (okay, sometimes that's a cheat cuz there's light from the refrigerator). I was so in-tune with my floor plan. And then I moved.

While emotionally, this house felt like mine pretty much right from the get-go, physically this was not the case. I was dealing with a new--and larger--layout. Different corners and walls. Stairs. Light switches at different heights--and why isn't there one at each end of the kitchen?! ...Aside from getting up in the night to go pee (still easy, since my bedroom and bathroom are right next to each other), I did not navigate anything in the dark for quite some time.

Eventually, I started meandering to get something or put something away without trying to find the light switch first. My steps were not confident, mind you. Especially through the kitchen, I would take baby steps to avoid knocking into chairs or tripping over something I may have left on the floor (it's been harder to dump my stuff in a consistent spot near the door when I get home each evening).

...It was about a month ago that it happened. I don't even remember what I was getting. I may have just been locking doors and turning off lights as I made my way to bed. Whatever it was, I moved through my entire house--with little motor hesitation--in the dark. I paused at the entrance to my bedroom and smiled at the realization: I was in tune with my house. And it's awesome.

Dancing in the Dark

Word to the wise: when moving your vacuum cleaner out of the laundry room to access something, don't place it in the entryway to your bedroom. Inevitably, you will forget it's there... until you decide it's time for bed. You will cross from the dark hallway into the dark bedroom, and step into the vacuum the way cartoon characters step on the forked side of a rake. You will all but dance with the vacuum in an effort to keep from falling over before you finally figure out what the heck you are dealing with, and return it upright. You will reach out towards the bedside lamp for some semblance of illumination, and stand but for a brief moment in the soft glow that now encompasses your bedroom space. But instead of silently cursing, as you normally do when you stumble into things, you start laughing uncontrollably on your bed. The cat--who was resting peacefully there before you stumbled in--looks at you like you are an absolute moron before making her exit. You and the vacuum glance at each other one more time. "Sorry." "Hey, no worries. It happens."