May 25

This past weekend, one of the things I got to enjoy was an evening out on the patio with the family gathered around the fire pit.  It was exciting for me beyond that too because I want one of my more extended projects to be on fire.

A couple years ago I remember coming home for Christmas and my dad pulling me aside to look at some of the photos he had taken on their Canon Powershot.  He was interested in the fire and enjoyed the creatures that came alive within the flames.  I have been interested more specifically in fire ever since.

In my own set of photos I found that I saw a dove in many of them.  As you look through these feel free to share what you see.  In a way, I have two movements, photos that have titles as a part of one idea and photos that are still untitled as a part of a different movement.  For today…

Batch 1:  Untitled Portraits of Fire
(Batch 2, Titled Portraits of Fire, to come tomorrow [Thursday])

A perfect gift is a thoughtful representation of me.  This gift has particularly struck me because it was given to me without occasion by someone whom I love very much and who normally is not much of a gift giver.  Perhaps he would be the only one to be able to guess what the subject matter in this image is, but you can give it a shot if you like.

By the end of the week I will answer all of the guesses with a reply at the end of this post.

I went out for another adventure in the woods today.  I took Haley with me and we followed the deer tracks through the mess of brush, unknown vegetation and fallen trees.  I think she appreciated the stop and go walk because she was allowed to sniff the world to her heart’s content as I photographed various things.

A photographer’s job is rewarding for several reasons:  you get to present your view of the world to the people of the world, you might get to show them something they haven’t seen before, you might get to inform them about something, you might inspire them.  But the one thing that amazes me the most while I venture into the natural world is the grand spectrum of color within the most simple of things:  a bird feather, a fungi, a tree root, or the dirt.

Some sort of fungus.

Some sort of tree root.

A really dead fish.  Gross.

My adventure for the day was to find the obscure within the norm.  Can you guess what each of these are?

Haley is always there to greet me at the door.   She stands at my feet with her mouth lolling open in a doggy smile and her butt wagging rapidly, compensating for her lack of a tail.  As soon as I set my backpack, and my lunch bag, and my camera bag, and my “things” bag, and my keys, and my waterbottle, and the mail, and something else down she is attempting to run up my legs.  So I kneel and hold my hands out.  She grabs onto them frantically and passionately, as if she’s asking for a hug, pets, potty time, a treat, and playtime all at once.

So I go for the potty time because if I got that one wrong it might end up on my carpet.  Sometimes she meanders to the grass, stands in it, and looks back at me for permission to come back inside.  But most times she will dash full force into the grass then come to an abrupt halt, squatting impossibly low to the ground.  She prances back through the door and sits at my feet looking up in anticipation of a treat for her good deed.  Instead, I feed her dinner.  She prances over, just as happy with this reward, takes one nibble and brings it to the carpet.  It is a strange habit really because after that first bite she is happy to eat the rest of her meal at her bowl.

Then we might play.  She always begins the battle with an excited pounce over to her lime green and black, rubber ringed toy.  For us it is a sturdier version of a rope toy because the usual life span of a standard, big dog rope is about three weeks.

She will run over to me vigorously shaking the toy so its whacking her in the face, as if to tempt me into play time.  I grab it and her muscles immediately rear back so that her lean body ripple to life, giving her big dog strength, and her face spreads to an even wider, goofy grin with her mouth clenched around the toy.  When the battle gets rough she will let out a playful grumbling.

Then I win.

And play some keep away, leading her in hot pursuit around my torso.  When she seems to fizzle out I throw the toy across the room.  She retrieves it, faithfully bringing it back, but not always without some taunting of her own.

Sometimes she will accidentally nip my finger in the battle.

“Ouch.”

She abruptly responds to the word, dropping the toy and sitting on her haunches with her ears pulled back and her eyes apologetically pleading forgiveness.

When the sun settles just above the horizon Haley dozes off on the couch.  She curls up in a tight ball like the milipedes do.  I will put in a movie and sit down next to her.  She wakes just long enough to curl up against me to place her head on my lap.  I take her paw and she falls back asleep, content to be holding my hand.

The next morning another day in the life of Haley begins with her catapulting onto the bed for morning kisses and cuddling.