Category: Places

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Events of note Photography Places

Dancing with Balloons

I had an incredibly good day today, but I am exhausted tonight. I got to the Balloon race site at 11:00, was there until about 6:30, and only sat down twice. But the weather was perfect, the people were wonderfully friendly, and the balloons were awesome.

I have oh so many photos to post. You’re going to be sick of the photos over the next week. Not only did I fill two cards in my digital camera, but I also managed to take 5 rolls of film. I figured to space them out by inserting a few here and there in my posts.

Forest Park is so pretty, and they had the balloon race in what’s called the Great Basin area – a huge hill overlooking a lovely pool and fountains. This was a good choice because everyone had a good view of the balloons, and plenty of space to sit and stretch out; or like me, stand up to take photos and not have anyone tell me to sit down. In fact, I had a very pleasant conversations with a person who is the VP of the area’s local Optimist Clubs (they provided periphery security as a fund raiser for their organization), a first grade teacher, and another photo buff, in addition to a couple of park police, and a guy who had bad knees (met him sharing a bench when I had to sit or fall over at one point).

The great thing about this race is that they have a photo contest every year, and allow photographers to walk among some of the balloons as they fire up. So here are several of us trying to get the usual pics inside of the balloon, where the sun picks out the color of the balloon; however, there was a breeze and the Jack Daniels balloon kept falling over, so we were having more fun playing keep away from the falling multi-story booze bottle. (More on this balloon at Tin Foil.)

With another balloon, the crew let those of us who had a free hand actually help with holding the basket down. That one was great – to get so close to these big beasties is amazing.

Instead of sitting in the back or front, I picked a side location, and other than it being on a hill and standing for over three hours in one place, it was a perfect spot. I had a great view of the balloons, and when the parachuters who opened the show came in for a landing, they glided directly overhead. Those photos, though, are on film so you’ll have to wait to see them.

The breeze and conditions had to be just right so the ‘bunny’ of this Hounds and Rabbit balloon chase – a huge Energizer pink bunny– was a little late taking off, but was worth the wait. I could not believe how big that thing was. The photo shows it in relation to people and cars on the ground.

Once it was launched, then 70 balloons inflated and took off after it, in a specified order (there wasn’t enough room to start all of them at once). Imagine a sky full of 70 hot air balloons. It was amazing.

I parked quite a distance away, and the walk back to the car was a little challenging, considering that my feet hurt like the devil. But the late afternoon light was lovely and the crowd walking back to their cars was mellow, full of cute kids and sweet dogs.

A very good day.

Categories
Photography Places

Driving

I made a vow to myself yesterday that I wasn’t going to drive at night again. Kicking around town is fine, and I like getting up in the pre-dawn for a trip; but long trips that end later in the night, when your windshield is covered with bugs, and your eyes are blurred with the lights of a thousand SUVs shining directly into them–no.

Especially driving into St. Louis along that miserable mess that is I-55, I-70, and I-64 from the East. All three freeways combine, and then split suddenly apart into two bridges and then combine again. I know that both routes end up in the same place, but late at night when I’m tired, I forget and when they start to split, I panic, and then screech over to the left.

Then once they combine, you have to immediately get into the one and only lane that leads to I-44, which happens to leave the freeway at a 20MPH curve, slowing traffic going 60 MPH to 5 MPH instantly. But this lane is in the middle of these other lanes, that split into differen roads. You look into the mirror and tap your break like mad, hoping that whoever is behind you sees that the lane has slowed suddenly and drastically.

I didn’t get many pictures yesterday or today. I did find some corn for Scott. Unfortunately, it was behind bars. Good corn gone bad, I suppose.

Good corn gone bad

And I found this odd tree with odd seeds and odder leaves.

Odd tree

I have the balloon race at Forest Park tomorrow, and should do better. The Glow was tonight, but I was too tired.

Dad is safely tucked away in a nursing home. Temporarily we all say, as he gets the therapy and care he needs to be able to use a walker. His roommate is a man who looks much younger than Dad– probably 60’s or 70’s. A handsome man, with hair that is darker brown with some gray at the sides. He sat, very nicely dressed, in a chair and just looked out the window the entire time we were there. Didn’t stop looking out the window. Didn’t acknowledge the activity associated with Dad. Didn’t once turn around.

Next to his small TV on his dressar is a cardboard figure of a car – an old convertible, a chevy I think. Behind it is a older photo of a young man and woman sitting in a car that looks much like the cardboard figure. Above the TV is a corkboard just filled with notes and photos, and an old Navaho blanket covers his bed.

I am burning with desire to take his photo.

Categories
Photography Places

Looking for Fall Along Route 66

I had the nicest note today from Mike Rodriquez saying, “…partially thanks to you (your wonderful writings about the river and the countryside surrounding SL) we’re moving back to our childhood home in Lindsborg, KS.”

My first reaction on reading this was, “Wow!” followed by a particularly warm and fuzzy feeling followed not too long after with another “Wow” and then a more thoughtful, “Boy, I sure hope they don’t get hit by a tornado”.

Tornadoes, heat, astonishing political dichotomy, and the ever present bugs that see me as a walking buffet aside, on days like today I renew my love of this land, even though the humidity was enough to drench me within a half mile starting my hike. I can only nod when Mike talks about moving back to Kansas because I remember walking steep rocky trails overlooking one river one day; an old country road surrounded by flowers against the backdrop of yet another river the next–all within 25 minutes of my home– and think how can anyone not want to live here?

How many places can you walk the same trail, over and over, and still feel as if it’s bright and shiny new: one time small pink flowers grow out of short dark green depths; another, tall golden brown weeds form a mosaic of gleaming color against rich yellow and light green.

This week when I walked Powder, new small white flowers carpeted the forest floor and I felt like calling out, “Don’t you ever get tired of growing?” But that would only startle the fawns that have now become so used to me (or people really, but I like to think it’s me, personally) that they quietly graze by the side of the trail only a few feet away.

I hadn’t been to the Route 66 State Park since Spring because normally it can be quite warm in the summer, and since horses are allowed on the paths, it can also be a little odorous at times. But it’s also a good place to check for the beginnings of fall color in this part of the state (though a more accurate check requires a trip further north).

I had the park almost to myself, and when I started across the old Route 66 bridge, I decided just to stop, right there on the bridge, and take some photos. I’ve been wanting to try out my fisheye lens of the river and surrounding hills; normally a fisheye distorts an image too much, but this time, I think it worked nicely, capturing what I see every time I cross this old, rusted bridge.

There’s a specific path I walk when I go to Route 66, but I thought since I had the place more or less to myself (though stopping on a bridge to take photos isn’t the best of ideas in these times) I thought I would explore the back roads from the car, and then stop and hike wherever the mood hit. I’m glad I did or I wouldn’t have found this marshy pond not to far from the river. In the pond was a marsh bird, fishing for frogs and small fish.

When I parked the car to put on my telephoto lens, the bird hid behind the weeds, peeking out at me, coyly, as if it were playing a game of hide and seek. I just sat there in the car, camera pointed out the window, and soon enough the bird cautiously stepped out behind the weeds and resumed it’s hunting–giving me a chance to get a better picture than I normally can.

Are you ready to move here, yet?

Loren wrote about his trevails with technology today and I felt for him–good technology done badly is the craft of the devil. But when he wrote about walking to St. Louis to deliver something to me and it being probably faster than dealing with a rigidly uncompromising system, I thought there could be worse places to walk to, or around.

I ended up taking my usual walk, a circular route that goes from parking lot to river and back, past open meadow and closed forest. There was a group of deer along the way, but they’re shy unlike the ones at Powder and ran as soon as I got close. There’s one spot where I can climb down the hill to the water along a loose limestone and rock trail. The path was badly overgrown and I couldn’t safely make it all the way down the hill, even with my hiking stick. But it was nice to be clambering around a hillside on loose rock, feeling the challenge on muscles and balance.

You can lose yourself when hiking hills, though as Kierkegaard found, no one may notice:

The greatest hazard of all, losing the self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss–an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc.–is sure to be noticed.

Categories
Places

Where I would rather be

Today was another beautiful St. Louis day and after cleaning house and doing the weekly shopping, I stopped by Powder Valley for an early evening walk.

There are three trails at Powder, but I always take the shortest and easiest. Though the others give more of a workout, the Tanglewood Trail is less stressful of my ankle. Besides there’s always something interesting happening at Tanglewood compared to the other trails because there’s more to eat, and hence more critters eating.

Tonight, the birds were especially frisky because of an earlier rain and then the late afternoon sunshine. This week’s weather has been so welcome after all the oppressive heat and storms this Spring has given us.

The surprise tonight happened at the corner to turn back to the beginning. Through the trees I saw one of the bucks, a handsome devil with a nice set of antlers. The bucks are notoriously shy and to see one is a very rare and lucky event. I ducked quickly behind a tree, but when I looked cautiously around, I could see the buck twisting his head around the branches in front of him to get a closer look at me. We stood there, both of us peeking around at each other until I decided to move on because he wouldn’t be able to eat or move away until I was gone.

Tanglewood is only 1/3 mile around, and I circle it however many times I want. I try to circle it at least three times, to make a mile, but it really depends on the weather and how achy I am And how many people are out. Another reason I like Tanglewood is it doesn’t have the same numbers of people the other trails do. When I walk, I usually prefer solitude.

The second time around, as I headed toward a glen-like area of the forest, I spotted a doe and her tiny, twin babies, barely up on their feet and moving around. I stopped dead to enjoy them and while I was standing there, a man walked quickly past, head down in contemplation of his work out. However, as he drew near the babies he spotted them and stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to me with a huge grin on his face. He then whipped out his phone and held it out to the deer. I came this close to calling out, “Are you a weblogger?”

After he left, I slowly made my way closer to the glen, to get a better look at the mother and babies. By this time, the fireflies were out, and all the bushes surrounding the deer were alight with their sparkle; the late afternoon sun touched on the canopy of leaves and vines overhead, creating an unearthly glow on the surroundings.

It was astonishing. There was no other word to call it, but astonishing. I stood, barely daring to breath until the deer started slowly walking away, and the fireflies dispersed.

After I left I headed to the library, driving through the residential areas I prefer rather than taking the main road. One house had a mother and her young daughter out on the porch, sitting and enjoying the cool temperatures. Another house had an old car parked in front and several young men with their heads under the hood, and further down an older woman was mowing her lawn. It’s my favorite neighborhood in all of St. Louis, though other places have finer homes.

At the library, I stopped at the tables in the front that have books for sale, fifty cents for a hard cover, a quarter for a paperback, and a dime for magazines. I’ve been slowly but surely picking up a book now and again, trying to rebuild my long lost collection. I figure if I like the book I pick up, I’ll keep it. Otherwise, I’ll donate it back to the library, and they can sell it again.

The two tonight seemed like rare catches. One is titled, “Slow Dancing on Dinosaur Bones” by Lana Witt. The flyleaf described the book as a Southern comic gothic – how could I resist a book that calls itself a Southern comic gothic?

The second was “The Loves of Ivy” by a local teacher name of Carl Williams. He had signed this copy of the book, writing:

St. Library

Good to see you have my book. Ivy is still roaming Spring Creek.

Best wishes,

Carl R Williams.

We’ll see how they do.

I have to agree with Scott when he said in comments in my last post he’d rather visit Australia than the Moon–I think I would rather travel this world then leave it. I’m not sure when it changed for me, wanting to stay on this earth rather than roam the stars. When I was younger all I wanted was to go into space. Now, all I want is to go to London again, see the rest of Europe, or perhaps make that visit to New Zealand or Australia.

I think it comes with getting older. The closer you get to that day when you leave Earth for good, the better the old girl looks.

Categories
Photography Places

Shut out

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

The weather Saturday was lovely with cooler temperatures, and a lot less humidity. I’d been cooped up all week working on this and that and was in a mood for a long drive. As I hadn’t been to the Johnson Shut-Ins since early Spring, I wanted to see how they looked in the Summer and headed in that direction.

I can see why the Shut-Ins are so popular – they are extraordinary in all seasons. However, it’s in the summer that their true beauty reaches its peak, with the dark green of the trees, and the rust and pale blue of the surrounding rocks, offsetting the turquoise/aqua of the water. There are little pools in and among the rocks you can wade in, or go further downstream if you prefer sandier conditions. Though my camera has been problematical lately, I still managed to grab some fairly decent photos.

Lots of people at the park, but it’s large enough so you never feel crowded. You can swim at the Shut-Ins, but walking around isn’t easy – the rocks are very uneven and slippery.

There’s a boardwalk that surrounds the Shut-Ins and then steps that take you to the rocks themselves. Last time out I managed to walk around the rocks; however, this time I had to refrain because my ankle is still swollen and bruised from the last major fall, and further irritated by some injudicious hiking. Recently, I’ve had to use a hiking stick even on flatter grounds.

But I was wistful, as I stood at the bottom of the steps and looked out at all the people having fun and exploring. I wanted nothing more than to be in cut-offs and swimsuit and to jump into the water and feel the aeration of the falls around me. It must be like swimming in champagne.

A young man, probably in his early 20’s, saw me at the bottom of the steps leaning on my walking stick, looking longingly at the others playing. He started past and then stopped and turned around, and asked if I needed help to get around the rocks. I was both pleased by such generosity and chagrined that he would offer to help. After all, I’m only…

..well, only close to 50, walking with a limp, and in obvious need of my walking stick. Or helping arm.

I did thank him with the warmest smile I could pull up, as I declined his help, telling him that the rocks and my ankle would not be a good mix. I refrained from telling him that what he sees isn’t what I am.

What I feel, what I am, is that young girl sitting on the rocks by herself, looking at the water flowing past, playing with her hair and just dreaming of whatever. As long as no mirrors or helpful young men are about, that’s what I am.