Photo Menagerie

One thing I love about my photography hobby is the way it makes me stop and look at the world more closely. My zoom lens helps me get up close and personal with God’s creation, and this year has been a great adventure behind the lens. I want to share photos of some of the creatures I’ve gotten to know with my camera.

March: snow bunny

April: ladybug

April: robin

April: hungry bee

April: hawk on fence (photo by Dan)

July: Mohawk the turtle

August: sneaky mouse

August: woodchuck

August: opossum

(I have to show him twice because he was so unique!)

Of course, we can’t have animals on the blog without mentioning Pancake the squirrel. I have LOTS of photos of that silly guy, and even one of him and his “girlfriend.” (The kids named her Waffle.) 

I am so thankful for the bay window in my living room! It has given me a front-row seat for spying on the world. Now if I could just figure out how to remove the blue cast in my photos that comes from shooting through a Low-E Argon window!

Water Painting

This is – hands down – one of my kids’ most favorite activities of all time. We’ve been doing it since Katie was about a year or two old, and it is ALWAYS a hit with the kids who live on our street.

We keep a big crate full of paint brushes and buckets in the garage. Yesterday Katie pulled it off the shelf for the first time this season. It is stocked with buckets and cheapo brushes that you can find at the Dollar Tree.

Just add water, then let the kids go to town on your driveway. Yesterday, my kids took to the street because our driveway was wet from washing our car.

Sometimes, the kids will even paint themselves.

As I watched the kids paint, I heard some screeching then saw a hawk fly overhead with three or four birds chasing him. He landed on our chimney and I changed lenses on the camera then snuck over to get a photo. He saw me and flew off, but I managed to get this one photo. I didn’t realize until I downloaded the photo to my computer that the hawk has a “meal” in his claws. No wonder those other birds were chasing him!

Hawks

A little less than a year ago, I wrote here about what hawks mean to me. They are a physical reminder of my father's presence in my life, even though he is dead and gone.

I still see hawks almost every single day. Maybe because I live in the Midwestern suburbs, not in the deep city? I like to think that it doesn't matter where I live; hawks would find me regardless.

One thing I really wanted to do is capture a hawk with my camera. I've had that little wish in my heart for a while, but every time I would see a hawk, I'd be camera-less. I started taking my camera with me on days when I'd have time to stop and capture a hawk if our paths crossed (i.e., not when the kids were with me). All of a sudden, I wasn't seeing them as often! Aaargh.

On Christmas Eve, Dan and I were running last minute errands before going to his parents' house for the family festivities. I had my camera with me in preparation for the family event, and we saw a hawk! It was a drizzly day, but I asked Dan to pull over and let me try to capture the hawk. I went tromping through a muddy field and got this shot:

That poor, wet, cold hawk! I couldn't get him to move no matter how many shrieks and noises I made, so I didn't get my wish of a great shot of him with his wings spread wide.

And then this past Wednesday, I got another chance. I saw a hawk in a field, then did a u-turn to go back to him. I only got a few shots before he spooked and flew away.

As a wanna-be photographer, I have a compulsion to want to record things, events and people. I want to capture the moments before they slip away. Capturing the moment makes it feel more real to me, as if giving my poor memory proof that something truly did exist. At face value, my quest for a hawk on film seems straightforward. But what is the underlying drive? Am I trying to capture my dad again, however fleeting he may be? Maybe.

In my quest, I have realized there are some things in life that just can't be captured, and some things that were never meant to be anyway.

2-24-2005

My sister Mary woke me. I think it was sometime around 2:30 in the morning. Right, Mary? Or maybe that's when we pinpointed that it had happened.

She said, "He's gone." It took me about two seconds to register what she was saying. And then I immediately dismissed what she said and thought to myself, "No, he's not. She just hasn't checked his breathing right." I ran to his bed thinking she had to be wrong. The image that greeted me and is forever burned in my memory is one of unmistakable correctness. Not "rightness" because there was nothing right about it. But, yes, Mary was correct. He was gone. Dad was dead. His mouth was frozen open in one last gasp. Mercifully, his eyes were closed because he died in his sleep. Words cannot describe the stillness that permeated the room. He had left; his overwhelming bigger-than-life-ness had evaporated. Was that even possible?

The world slipped off its axis, and I can't quite remember how things happened from there. I know Dad's dog wouldn't leave his side. I didn't want to either, even though it was so eerie to be near him. The hospice nurse came to pronounce his death. She flushed his meds. His wife, Maureen, took the dog outside to go to the bathroom. Around daybreak, the funeral home came to pick him up. In a minivan. How abnormally normal. I waited to call Dan until a decent hour, not wanting to wake him too early. (He was in Missouri and I was in Virginia.) We called nearby family. I showered. I got on the computer. I shut down emotionally and didn't recover myself until Dan's flight arrived much later. Visits to the funeral home, people arriving at the door, and all I wanted to do was go back to 2:29am.

His last words to me? "I love you."

He's gone and now nothing more to be said. Nothing more can be said because he's not here to hear it. Right?

In our last coherent conversation, I told him that I would miss him every single day. And I do. I thanked him for all the ways he loved me and all the things he taught me, and that in doing so he taught his grandchildren too. I said he wouldn't be forgotten. I told him that every time I see a hawk, I think of him because of what he taught me about the birds. He promised me he would come back to me if there were any possible way.

I see a hawk almost every day now.