(Doorway into the woods. October 2008. Photo © Robin)
When you follow your bliss… doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors; and where there wouldn’t be a door for anyone else.
~ Joseph Campbell
Earth
(Pair of tangerines. 2007.)
Osh over at Deaf Pagan Crossroads emailed me with a request for the color orange. Here ya go, Osh. Orange, in all its glory. Well… maybe not all. But some of its glory.
I don’t know why I put off orange for so long. It’s not as if I hate the color or anything. In fact, I’m quite fond of it, especially this time of year. (To be honest, the real reason I put off orange was because it takes me a ridiculously long time to put these things together and I haven’t had much in the way of spare time now that I’m not forced to rest because of pain/illness.)
(Guy in orange jacket. 2007.)
As I was going through my photographs looking for orange (a color that’s not at all difficult to spot!), I was surprised to find that orange likes to hang around with other colors more often than not.
(Orange in a rainbow. 2008. © Robin)
(Spots of orange in fall foliage. Pennsylvania. 2007.)
Oh sure, it occasionally stands out all by itself…
(Mini-pumpkin before the cats mangled it. 2007.)
(Bigger pumpkins. 2007.)
(Biggest pumpkin. 2007)
But in most of my photos orange is buddying up to some other color or colors.
(Orange and yellow flowers. 2008)
(My feet at the Jersey shore. September 2008.)
Why isn’t there a special name for the tops of your feet?
~ Lily Tomlin
Well, you know, I had to do it. I can’t go to the beach without including a post with my feet when I return. Besides, it’s good for the hit count. Heh.
I think I need a new pose, though. This one is getting old. It’s hard to tell one beach-feet photo from another. I thought about trying to capture my feet in the water, but there are far too many good reasons to keep my camera away from the water. (My natural klutziness is the #1 reason.)
For those not familiar with my feet, it all started here.
This post is dedicated to my guide to Torrey Pines, TPGoddess (which, of course, stands for Torrey Pines Goddess).
I’m not going to bother with captions. All of the photos were taken by me at the Torrey Pines State Natural Preserve during the short hike I took with TPG on the Guy Fleming Trail. I wish I could have gone back again to hike some of the other trails during our trip, but they’ll have to wait until our next visit. It’s a gorgeous area and I can see why TPG loves it so.
Torrey Pines is one of those places I wish I could explore over and over again on a daily basis. I can’t imagine ever getting tired of going there as I think the changes over the seasons and over time must be fascinating…
With Memorial Day weekend approaching here in the U.S., it seemed a good time to go back to Mount Soledad. Mount Soledad, as you might recall, was one of the first places TPG took me when we met up during my last trip to San Diego. I showed you some of the spectacular views from it in this post.
There is a 29-foot (43 feet tall when you include the base) cross dominating the top of Mt. Soledad, a cross that has caused some controversy. The history of the cross is pretty interesting. There have been three crosses on this site since 1913. The first was a wooden cross erected by citizens of La Jolla and Pacific Beach. Ten years later it was stolen, recovered, and more firmly affixed to the ground only to be burned down by the Ku Klux Klan. The second cross, made of stucco-over-wood, was put up in 1934 (again by private citizens). Blustery winds took it down in 1952. The third cross went up in 1954. It had to be repaired in 1955 after a windstorm damaged it.
Maybe it’s me, but it seems like the crosses on Mt. Soledad haven’t had much luck.
(Cross at Mt. Soledad. April 2008. © Robin)
In 1989 the ACLU filed a suit based on the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution as well as a clause in the California constitution, basically stating that it is illegal to display a religious symbol on public property. The cross has been the subject of much litigation ever since. Supporters of the cross have tried numerous options to keep it there. In 2006 the federal government applied the powers of eminent domain to transfer the cross and the land underneath it from the city of San Diego to the federal government. President George W. Bush strongly supported the bill and this transfer was an effort to avoid court-ordered removal of the cross. The transfer involved listing it as a National Veterans Memorial and turning it over to the Department of Defense
The problem with that, of course, is that not all veterans are or were Christian.
Somewhere in all this mess (in 1994) some of the land at the base of the cross was purchased by a private group (the Mount Soledad Memorial Association). This, too, has been the subject of much litigation. Sometime after the purchase of the land (2002-2003) the Memorial Association had six concentric granite walls built to hold plaques memorializing service men and women.
As far as I can determine, there is still litigation going on, now at the federal level since it is no longer the City of San Diego property.
The wall on Mt. Soledad reminds me somewhat of the Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C. although Mt. Soledad’s wall is not as stark. There are pictures, symbols, and sometimes little stories about the people being remembered and memorialized.
(TPG at the wall. Mt. Soledad. April 2008. © Robin)
A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.
~ Joseph Campbell
I hope the final resolution is one that will honor the veterans as well as their various beliefs.
Disclaimer: I used a variety of sources for the information on the cross, one of which was Wikipedia (yeah, I know, I know…but they had a good time line of the litigation events). Any mistakes are mine which I will gladly correct if you would kindly let me know about them.
(Red beet eggs. March 2007. © Robin)
Last year I posted a photo of red beet eggs along with a recipe. M and I were living in our temporary digs in West Chester, PA at the time, and I didn’t have my recipes with me. The recipe I posted was one I found on the internet which I tried to tweak in order to come up with a recipe closely resembling the one I use.
The red beet egg post is popular around Easter. I reckon everyone is trying to figure out what to do with all those hard-boiled Easter eggs once the coloring and Easter egg hunts are over.
Pickling is a good way to go because they’ll last a few weeks. Perhaps more than a few weeks, but they always get eaten in under a month in my house, particularly when M the Younger is at home. (Side note: You can thank M the Younger for this post as he put in a request yesterday for red beet eggs. I’ll be making a batch of them tomorrow.)
I’m once again getting lots of hits from folks searching for red beet egg recipes. Now that I’m home, with recipes at hand, I thought I’d post my mother-in-law’s recipe for red beet eggs. It is, as far as I’m concerned, the superior Lancaster county recipe for red beet eggs.
Jane’s Red Beet Eggs
- 2 cups cider vinegar
- 1¼ cups sugar
- 2 cans (16 oz.) sliced red beets
- 1 cup water
Mix ingredients and heat until sugar dissolves. Pour over hard boiled eggs (up to a dozen depending on the size of your container) and refrigerate.
It’s best to put the eggs, beets, etc., in a glass jar for storage in the fridge unless you don’t mind some staining of your plastic ware. I use a big pickle jar.
As stated in the previous post on this subject, you can reuse the pickling mixture for another batch of eggs. After that you should dump it as it loses its flavor. Or eat the beets if you like pickled beets. (I don’t.)
Happy Easter to those of you out there celebrating it!
(My feet at the beach. November 2007. © Robin)
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.
~ Henry David Thoreau
Stevo has been wondering: Where are the feet photos in the blogosphere?
Well, here they are again: My feet. I wonder how well my feet posts will compete with each other in terms of getting the most hits.
One of my favorite feelings in the world is that of my feet in the sand. Mud is good too, but sand is best. Snow isn’t so bad either, now that I think about it. But my feet can’t take a lengthy excursion barefoot in the snow.
This photo reminds me that it might be nice to get a pedicure, even in the midst of winter when my toes rarely make a naked appearance anywhere (mostly in the shower/bath and on the yoga mat these days). My feet could use a little spoiling. They’ve been working hard lately, putting in a lot of mileage in an effort to meet my 2008 walking goal of 1,000 miles.
I almost forgot: The music.
(Day lily at Longwood Gardens. December 2007. © Robin)
I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become … but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress.
~ May Sarton
(Nature’s holiday decorations. December 2007. © Robin)
Everything is equal in the snow: all trees, all lawns, all streets, all rooftops, all cars. Everything is white, white, white, as far as you can see. Covered by snow, the well-kept and neglected lawns look the same. The snow hides the shiny newness of a just-bought car as effectively as it does the rust and dents of a ten-year-old one. Everything looks clean and fresh and unmarred by time or use. Snow, like the silent death it counterfeits, is a great leveler.
~ Adrienne Ivey
It started snowing again while we slept last night. The snow is still coming down, quite heavily, as the morning grows old.
(Blizzard. December 2007. © Robin)
This would be a good day to learn how to snowshoe.
(The disappearing pond. December 2007. © Robin)
It was an unusual weekend. This will be an unusual post for Bountiful Healing.
My oldest son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter (the Exquisite Emma) came for a visit this weekend.
Normally when they come for a visit we go out and do something that might appeal to a 2-year-old girl. The zoo, the county fair, and in the case of this weekend, the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.
Also normally, during the course of the weekend I take about 300 photos of Emma, out of which I get about 8-10 great shots. Emma is a wonderful subject and very photogenic, but she’s a 2-year-old who is almost constantly in motion. Plus I prefer candid shots over the posed variety. Posing has its moments and its purposes, but the best photographs are usually candid shots. Occasionally (twice so far) I put together a little booklet for Emma with photos from the weekend. The first booklet was A Visit to the Zoo where there were shots of the animals as well as Emma and her parents. The second was Emma Goes to the County Fair, again with shots of the animals as well as Emma, her parents, and Grandpa and me (<–Grandma).
Taking that many photos means I spend a lot of time following Emma around as if she’s Miss Hollywood with me playing the role of the paparazzi constantly snapping and flashing. Taking that many photos also means I’m not really spending good quality time with Emma.
On Friday our youngest son left for a geology field trip in West Virginia. It involved camping, hiking, and mapping some mountains. Because it is the time of year for leaf-peeping(TM), he asked if he could borrow my camera for the trip.
The idea of loaning out my camera for the entire weekend was not the least bit appealing to me. I was worried my son would lose the camera or break it as he was climbing around on some mountain. I already lost the lens cap on our last great hiking adventure. It broke off the strap and popped off the lens during a rough stretch of hiking when I was paying more attention to my footing and my own safety than that of the camera. I haven’t replaced it yet which meant another worry.
But the main thing was that I’ve gotten so used to carrying the camera around that it’s almost become a part of me.
Who knew that taking photographs could become so addictive?
Not that it’s a bad addiction to have. Realizing that I didn’t want to let go of the camera for even a few days was a sure sign that I needed to do it.
So, I’ve been without a camera all weekend. I don’t have one photograph taken by me of Emma’s first experience with the circus. I don’t have one shot (taken by me) of the incredibly colorful and entertaining circus clowns or other acts. There will be no Emma Goes to the Circus book from this weekend. Or Emma Meets Izzy & Bella (the kittens).
I briefly (and vocally) lamented the fact that I was sans camera when we arrived at the Q to find that for most of the hour prior to the show they opened up the floor (or rings, since this is a circus) to the audience so they can interact with the performers, get autographs, take pictures, etc. I missed many up close and personal photo ops.
We had fantastic seats. I missed many more up close and personal photo opportunities. Emma was enthralled. I could have taken a lot of good shots of the look of wonder on her face as the trapeze artists went flying through the air or the smiles when Bello was performing. I missed a few good photos of Bello, for that matter.
Even so, I don’t regret the decision to spend a weekend without the camera hanging around my neck. It was a good decision with ultimately good consequences.
Main lesson learned from the experience: I enjoyed being in the moment rather than trying to capture and save the moment.
Instead of photos, I have a weekend filled with playtime, tickles, hugs, kisses, giggles, and lots of laughter, all shared with Emma. Instead of photos, I watched the circus performances and the various looks on Emma’s face. Instead of photos, I participated in the experiences of the weekend. Instead of photos, I have the gift of time spent with some of the people I love most in this world.
So, in case you’re still wondering what it is, the unusual thing about this post is: the lack of photos.
It might well be my best post yet, as far as I’m concerned.
Not to worry, though. Regular posting of photographs will resume tomorrow.
Bountiful Healing 