A small non descript town on a road that meanders through farmland and coastal plains.  A turn or two and this little town appears.  It's home to a couple of vintage shops, a gallery, a restaurant and some cafes along with an elementary school.  It's unassuming and beautiful.  There are no sidewalks, just the highway jogging through at 25 mph.  This town is made for stopping.  Take some time to explore the galley which features a couple of artists and their works on display or browse the vintage shops if they are open.  Then order at the Bread Farm one of their Chocolate Croissants, Parisian Baguettes or this tomato, cheese Danish.  A burger and coke on a sunny autumn day during a motorcycle ride at the Edison Café makes a great lunch or dinner.  




 

Taking photos is all about light, using the available light, manipulating it, or creating it.  Some of the best learning I have done is to choose a type of light and photographing it.  Whether that light is front light, side light, or back light.  A technique that artists have used and we continue to use is called chiaroscuro.  It's the way an artist uses the strong contrast between light and shadow.  Think Cezanne, Vermeer, Caravaggio, Gerard van Honthorst.  This blog post by Pooky.com has a great explanation of it.  As a photographer I am a student of light and creating dramatic light is one thing I am striving to hone.  Since many of the Masters of Art painted still life and crated this dramatic effect, I can use their same technique only with a camera instead of a paint brush.  They didn't become experts in a day and there was trial and error.  They painted and repainted and learned.  Same for me.



 

When the kids were little we bought a book called Bear and Bunny Grow Tomatoes.  It is a lovely little picture book about one animal who takes their time to get their garden ready and tenderly grow their plants and the other who dreams big and lives for fun but doesn't put in the work.  Once reaps a harvest.  We lovingly refer to John as one of the animals.  

"Your such a stereotypical white soccer mom" my kids say to me when I say that I've been to the pumpkin patch.  Maybe so.  I raised three white kids who all played soccer so I guess I fit the bill.  And yet there is more to a pumpkin spiced latte, wellington boots, a scarf and vest snapping photos of large round pumpkins in a bin.  I come to the patch for photos yes.  But because like long ago when painters painted fruits and wine still life paintings, I can admire the subtlety of the differences in the form of the pumpkins.  I like the way the fog settles in among the orange globes in the field of dying vines sending vapors of mist curling along the tendrils.  The variations of color from creamy white Lumina pumpkins to the grey sage Jarrah dale pumpkins and then the range of orange from soft peach fairytale pumpkin to the vibrant burnt orange of sugar pumpkins all create a stunning montage for me. One thinks of pumpkins and sees only fall décor but I see more than just a pretty decoration.  They are unusually complex.  I can run my hands over the surface of a pumpkin but I can't close my eyes and describe it.  They aren't necessarily round or smooth.  There are imperfections and variations of color along with bumps and ridges and sizes.  To grow them, you need patience as with all plants and room, lots of room for their tendrils and vines.














 

Green vines trail along arbors and off cement tables.  Light filters through green glass windows.  Isles of pavers indicate walkways throughout. Wood trim painted white. Doves in wooden bird aviaries coo to each other.  Pops of vivid red and pink geraniums spill from the green foliage. A white Grecian statue, a fern as a center point, antique terrariums, and terra cotta planters are understated features among the healthy and varied plants.  As I step onto the property my eyes feast at vignettes of the offerings.  I feel as if I have entered another time, or have dropped my worries off.  The greenhouses at Christianson's are dreams, imaginations, transporting me to a slower pace. Each little turn delights me and I wish and dream of a smaller version of a greenhouse like the ones I find a Christianson's Nursery.  I can imagine puttering in the rich soil, planting tomatoes starts to get a jump on the season or keeping my geraniums alive during the cold winter season.  I imaging breakfasts of coffee and croissants in the early spring in the warmth of the greenhouse as buds start to swell on the plum and quince trees outside.  The fresh smell of growing plants makes me breath deep and find a quiet spot to just sit and write or to pour through plant catalogs.  I dream of fairy lights at night with slow jazzy music and wine, relaxing with friends as we talk about hopes and dreams, sharing our fears and worries, encouraging words flowing and building us up. I realize that this spot, so unassuming is a sort of friendship that wraps around me as soon as step out of my car and I make a trip at least once a year to dream and be inspired. 




 

    

 With the weather finally on our side, we seized the opportunity to embark on another day of fishing. The clear skies beckoned us to the streams where the salmon run had captivated our attention throughout the week. As we made our way to the fishing spot, we noticed other anglers already scattered along the banks, patiently casting their lines into the glistening waters.

Among the fellow fishermen was a young mother, her baby nestled securely on her back, demonstrating that the love for fishing is passed down through generations on Kodiak Island. We exchanged warm smiles and nods, united by our shared passion for this age-old pursuit.

Yet, our fellow human anglers were not the only company we had in the stream. Just across the road, a majestic Kodiak bear prowled the riverbank, keenly aware of the salmon swimming upstream. With remarkable agility and speed, it pounced on the fish that had managed to evade the fishermen's hooks. The sight of this magnificent creature in its natural habitat was both humbling and awe-inspiring.

As we cast our lines into the water, hoping for a bite, we couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration tinged with a touch of trepidation. The presence of bears added an element of excitement to our fishing experience, reminding us that we were mere visitors in their domain. The eagles perched high in the trees observed our endeavors, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to swoop down and claim their own share of the abundant feast.

Job, with his deep knowledge and respect for the island's wildlife, remarked on the unique circumstances of the salmon run. The river was so crowded with fish that it offered little challenge in terms of angling skill. The sheer abundance of salmon made it difficult for them to evade the hooks, and yet the catch we secured would provide a welcome variety in Job's meals throughout the winter months.

Amidst the picturesque landscape, we savored the serenity of the moment, casting our lines with hope and anticipation. The rhythmic sound of the water flowing and the constant splash of a fish leaping added to the symphony of nature that surrounded us. The camaraderie shared with our fellow anglers, the presence of the bears, and the watchful eyes of the eagles created a tapestry of experiences that we would forever carry in our hearts.

As the day unfolded and we continued our quest for the perfect catch, the harmony between humans, bears, and wildlife became palpable. We were reminded of our interconnectedness with the natural world and the delicate balance that sustains life on Kodiak Island.

With each successful catch, we celebrated the bounty of the land and sea, mindful of the privilege and responsibility that comes with being stewards of this extraordinary ecosystem. As the sun cast its golden rays upon the shimmering water, we felt a profound gratitude for the experiences that Kodiak Island had gifted us and a renewed commitment to preserve its beauty for future generations.

Finally the day drew to a close, we packed up our fishing gear, bidding farewell to the stream that had provided us with endless wonder. The memories of fishing alongside bears, observing the salmon's relentless journey, and sharing the company of fellow anglers would forever hold a special place in our hearts.

  As we ventured along the western road of Kodiak Island, the landscape transformed, and the pavement gave way to a gravel path. The road led us to a breathtaking sight—a rocky shoreline that held secrets from the past. This was the place where fossils of ancient animals lay preserved, pressed into the cliff face, waiting to be discovered.

With cameras in hand, we eagerly stepped onto the rocky shoreline, captivated by the thrill of unearthing remnants of a bygone era. The crashing waves and rugged cliffs created a dramatic backdrop for our exploration. 

Tide pools dotted the coastline, teeming with vibrant marine life. These miniature ecosystems unveiled a hidden world of colorful anemones, scuttling crabs, and delicate seashells. The mingling of ancient fossils and thriving marine life created a beautiful juxtaposition of past and present, reminding us of the ever-changing nature of our world.

As we scoured the cliff face, searching for signs of these ancient inhabitants, we marveled at the intricate details preserved in the fossilized remains. The fossils served as windows into the past, telling stories of a time when the island was a different world, inhabited by creatures both familiar and foreign.

As we left the rocky shoreline, we carried not only the memories captured in our photographs but also a deep respect for the forces that shape our world. The fossils and tide pools of Kodiak Island had left an indelible mark on our journey, reminding us of the significance of embracing the past while cherishing the present.