Georgia on my mind…

 

My dog brought me a present in the form of a dead bird. She left it like a bullseye in the center of a ring of feathers, on my bathroom rug. I almost threw up. The next day her body rebelled, and I once again was prevailed upon to don a mask and gloves, grab a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Resolve, and try to rescue the area rug in my guest bedroom. Dog-2, Owner-0. I threw the rug away.

My dog is a Norwegian Elkhound. Picture a Siberian Husky, just smaller and more wolf-like. I have two of this breed, mother and son. The mother is the demon. She is nearly 14 years old and if she were attached to a sled she would be the lead dog bossing all the other dogs, and maybe some of the humans around. Her son looks and behaves like a stuffed animal, somehow knowing that his sole purpose in life was to be cute and sweet. How these two are related is a mystery of science.

From the time we got “Georgia” she was out of control. We adopted her at nearly 3 years old from a breeder who had put her on the show circuit and demonstrated her considerable beauty to the dog world. She was festooned with ribbons and awards and was a remarkable example of her breed. However, she needed the love of a pet home, meaning us. No more kennels and cages, now she had a big fenced in yard to run and play, and torture nature. Nothing that moved could survive her feral ways. She caught possums, rabbits, moles and we even witnessed her leaping into the air and snatching a flying bird into her hungry jaws. She was a terror inside as well, leaping across furniture and leaving parallel groves from her claws deep in our wood and leather, as a reminder of who ruled the roost.

 She had one litter of puppies and never bred again. Our gift was “Wooly Bear”, who seemed to contain all the sweetness she lacked. My son was only ten when we took “Georgia” into our home, so he didn’t understand what a high-strung dog she was. He loved her. And every time I threatened to give her back, he would say, “Would you send me away if you didn’t like how I behaved?” It’s a good thing she had a little boy advocate in her corner.

The life span of this breed is about 15 years and I keep waiting for her to become sweet. Despite acute deafness, stiff hips and diminished vision, age has barely slowed her down. A few nights ago she was lying beside my bed and suddenly started to whimper for no apparent reason. “Wooly” ran over and sniffed her to make sure she was alright. I sat down on the floor and started to pet her. Minutes evolved into an hour. She purred in her own dog way, put her paw on my leg, and looked at me as if to say, “Come on, I know you really love me.” Darn if it isn’t true. There are a lot of sweet and cuddly dogs out there, but by golly, when you get one like this, they make a lasting impression.

“Georgia, you’ll always be on my mind. I love you girl.”

Standing in the Eye of the Hurricane

Depend on Me-Beauty and Power as Constant as the Tides. www.silverliningsentiments.com

When I was nearly seven, Hurricane Cleo hit Miami, and the eye passed over Miami Beach. We were warned it was coming and made all the required preparations, which by my parent’s standards meant, sponges and towels for the doors and windows, lots of candles, and bathtubs filled with water to drink..

I wasn’t scared. Soon the rain began, not to fall, but to pound all around us. The wind shook the palm trees, as though they were maracas in a Latin band. It was loud, constant and lasted for hours. But to a seven year old, it was fun. My brother, sister and I played games by candlelight and delighted at drinking water from the tub. We were soon put on sponge-duty as the force of the wind was causing water to seep through the doorjambs and windowsills. It was an adventure and if my parents were fearful, they never showed it.

As morning approached the noise subsided, and we peered outside to assess the damage. Unlike more adept survivors of today, my father had neither taped nor boarded our windows. We just opened our blinds. Our house appeared to be floating in a lake. The storm surge had caused the tide to rise above the seawall and completely surround our home, as well as those of our neighbors. Our neighborhood looked like Cheerios floating in a bowl of seaweed. But our homes had been built for flooding, as they stood high above crawlspaces on sturdy concrete pillars allowing for the extra feet needed for just this moment. The only thing my siblings and I happily thought about, was how many days of school we were going to miss.

But this was only a momentary reprieve. We were inside the hurricane’s eye and had just enough time to make repairs and get ready for the other side of the eye wall to return, with even more fierce wind and rain.  The front of our house had a wide terrazzo porch and my Dad allowed us outside to get some fresh air and experience this moment.

I remember it so clearly, because it was so odd. After so many hours of violent storm, there was sunshine and blue sky. The rain and wind had stopped. But the most memorable feature was the complete lack of sound. There were no animal sounds of any kind, no birds chirping, no dogs barking. There were no cars, or planes in motion. We lived near a hospital and often heard the sound of sirens…now there was just complete silence. There were no children playing, no laughing. There was no wind to rustle a leaf. I put my pinky finger in my ear and wiggled it to try to clear the obstruction to hear again, but there was nothing to hear.  In contrast to the hours of roaring noise we had just experienced, the lack of sound made us all want to yell.

We waited and soon we began to see the black wall of the other side of Hurricane Cleo as she began her final approach. The silence ended and our long vigil of fighting back the elements began again, this time in the daylight it was more frightening.

The after-effects on our city didn’t make history like Andrew or Katrina, but I never forgot them. I remember seeing houseboats wedged under bridges, sand dunes blown atop of the hotels on Collins Avenue, and living in a motel for weeks waiting for the electricity to return. I learned to respect the power of nature. We were lucky to not suffer losses like so many others.

But I also think at my very young age it awoke my sense of wonder and respect for the awesome power of nature and the wonderful world we live in.

Please remember to visit www.silverliningsentiments.com for unique ways to frame your photos.

The Wizard of Oddz

Journey's end or its beginning? Life is the adventure. www.silverliningsentiments.com

 Did any of us see this tornado coming?

Instead of being measured in miles across, it was measured in states, companies and people. As its winds gained speed, cows and barns were replaced with GM trucks and home mortgages. As it blazed a path across our country, it left in its wake the dazed and confused of the newly laid-off and unemployed. No Dorothy, we’re not in Kansas anymore. But we do have a yellow brick road ahead of us, now made up of electronic pixels and matrixes leading us to a new land.

I faced my new world with a website launched in the Land of Oddz, but no one knew it was there. Somehow I had to find a way to connect. In this land the Munchkins were replaced by something called Twitter and they spoke in “Tweets.” They invited me to join and “follow,” which I did. Following them was easy, but since I didn’t know where I was going, getting followed was more challenging! The revised Scarecrow arrived, still all heart and seeking a brain, now known as Facebook. We became “friends”, and starting seeking friends everywhere, some so distant their names should have been in hieroglyphics. Next, the new Tin Man arrived, full of answers, without much compassion. As we LinkedIn I could feel the cold metal of his skin. I took his advice and posted my resume, joined groups, sent out discussions, searched databases, and we continued toward the Land of Oddz.

I now had followers, friends, and was linked to others, certainly success would be looming at the next turn. But no, all that loomed was the cyber Cowardly Lion, weeping that without a BLOG all was for naught. So I wrote and posted, and wrote and posted some more. But clearly I had ventured into the field of poisoned poppies as my BLOG site was comatose. Rain came in the form of Alpha Inventions, driving readership to my blog, which hyperlinked them to my site and my hits grew and my site prospered.

We had finally arrived in the Land of Oddz, and I realized that I didn’t want to go back home anymore. There was no wizard, maybe some geeks, not even hot air here to lift a balloon and sail away. This was the energy of the future and its doors didn’t lead to brick and mortar, these doors led to the cyber success and the stars.

Please remember to visit www.silverliningsentiments.com for unique ways to frame your photos.

Play the “Photo-Equipment MATCH Game”…

L=Canon AE1, C= Blackberry  R= Canon Digital Elph

Photo A- Santa Fe Sunset

 

Photo B- Phoenix Sunset

Photo C- La Jolla Sunset

Let’s have some fun…

Each of these photos was taken with one of the pieces of equipment above.

The Canon AE-1 is approximately 35 years old, is both manual and automatic, and is a gem that has passed down through my family.

For one photo, the battery died on my digital and I was left with only my Blacckberry to catch the moment.

The Elph is wonderful as it fits in a pocket and is always available at a moment’s notice.

So, see if you can match the photos to the equipment, and post your answers (comments). I’ll let you know in a couple of days how you all did. Have fun.

Please remember to visit www.silverliningsentiments.com for unique ways to frame your photos.

Eat With Your Eyes

Balance-Between light and dark lie endless possibilities. www.silverliningsentiments.com

We added the Grand Canyon to our list of sites, primarily to say “been there, done that.” When you live in Arizona, scenes of the Grand Canyon are everywhere, from the backs of the state quarter to my company’s computer screensaver.

 We drove in from the eastern entrance. All you see for hours is wide expanses of barren land. And then finally, we saw a crack in the earth. Soon the crack multiplied and widened. Down the road Native American stands of art and souvenirs began to appear, as did a big sign pointing to the perfect spot for picture taking and Portalets.  We posed and peered out over the narrow gulches that cut through the burnt earth. We were satisfied, and even considered moving on to our next adventure. But curiosity pressed us forward.

At the park’s entrance gate we were directed to the Desert View Watchtower for our first stop.  As we walked from the parking lot, toward the crowds leaning against the metal rails along the canyon’s edge, I entered my own personal Twilight Zone. Reality had somehow shifted. Stretched before me was a view almost beyond words. This was no crack in the earth, no gulch to be leapt across. This was an endless horizon of watercolors, painted against canyons of stone, with gulfs the size of small seas. Suddenly our height above the deep gorge below took our breath away, and we tightly grasped the handrails. A warm wind blew and gently wrapped itself around us like a comforting blanket. No picture could capture all this glory; it had to be devoured by all the senses.

Our two hour detour lasted for two days.

(Please note: all examples of photos in the granite bases can be purchased at www.silverliningsentiments.com in addition to over 80 other choices.)

Evolution of the shot

East or west. Right or left. The fun is in the choosing.

Choices. www.silverliningsentiments.com

 

             Is getting your shot really worth it? It’s possible my brain has turned to sawdust living in Phoenix. The low today was 89 degrees, which probably occurred at 3am. The high of 113 degrees definitely occurred while I lay prone on my belly in my backyard, lining up granite frames on a piece of bigger granite, cantilevered over the edge of my pool.

Why did I feel it was necessary to melt for this series of pictures, you ask? One, the lighting was perfect, casting few shadows, and creating a beautiful illumination in the water for a dynamic backdrop. Two, it won’t get cool in Phoenix again until November, so if you live here, you simply deal with it.

I thought you’d find the before and after on these two photos interesting, as I am learning about using my environment as my set. I originally thought setting the granite frame in the grass would create a nice natural setting, but the biting ants caused me to miss some distracting background elements that might mar the picture.

When I first started using the pool water as a backdrop, my problem was creating the correct angle to avoid the opposite edge of the pool. I also didn’t like the pool deck as a base. I finally realized that balancing a larger piece of granite slab out over the water solved both problems.

What do you think? Which picture do you like better? Which shows off the product better? Should I face biting ants, or hot cement for my future scenarios?  Thanks and keep clicking.

(Please note: all examples of photos in the granite bases can be purchased at www.silverliningsentiments.com in addition to over 80 other choices.)

Starting Over

How many years, how many miles, how many stories? Take time to listen. www.silverliningsentiments.com

This is what I know is true. Starting over is hard.

It’s like pushing a boulder up a hill. Sometimes you feel like you’ll never get to the peak, push it over the edge, watch it careen down the other side, and feel the exhilaration of watching it move on its own.

But I know if I don’t keep pushing that heavy, ragged, hard, unforgiving boulder, nothing will change. I believe.  I have hope. Somehow, I will persist.

I live in a desert environment and sometimes as I drive from my city to another, across wide expanses of barren land, I wonder, “How did the early pioneers make their journey and not give up.” I think of the heat, the hardship, the danger and the disease they faced. But they not only survived, they achieved amazing goals.

My wagon is hitched to a new business, one wrapped in the belief that people still want to be reminded about positive messages, and see beautiful pictures of the simple gifts of life. It’s grounded in a solid base of granite to reflect the beauty of the earth. It’s meant to be absorbed by the senses and last.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I believe I will succeed in pushing that boulder over the peak, and rejoice in its momentum. Please join me in giving it a push and visit www.silverliningsentiments.com.

Thank you for your support,

Dava

The Big One

 

Beauty and Power as constant as the tides. Maui, Hawaii. www.silverliningsentiments.com

The Big One-Maui, Hawaii

 My favorite memories were on my Dad’s boat, The Consultation, named after his medical practice. We renamed it The Constipation, since he was a stomach doctor.

Although my brother dealt with sea sickness and my sister preferred to tan, I loved to fish. My father’s incentive to us was that whoever caught the most fish,would get to clean them! I always won. My siblings couldn’t have cared less.

Salt water fishing requires casting. I had often practiced in our backyard. Now I was ready, and rested the rod in my left hand,  while gently pressing the line between my forefinger and the rod. I unlatched the lever to release the line and threw the rod back over my right shoulder, letting the lead weight below the hook help guide the line. With all my little girl might I extended my right arm to cast the line out over the boat. In an instant I felt the line anchor itself into something behind me, and simultaneously I heard my brother scream. We all turned to find that I had snared his bathing suit, and with my casting momentum I had partially ripped it off his seven year old body. He was horrified. My older sister and I laughed hysterically.

Nearly forty years later, my 17 year old son and I set off on his first fishing excursion. We arrived at the Key West slip and found a boat similar to my Dad’s 16 footer. The captain greeted us and we privately named him “Toothless” Tom. Two other couples joined us. The day was glorious, smooth water, clear skies and warm sun.

Fifty minutes later we arrived at Toothless Tom’s secret fishing hole. He threw out a bucket of chum to attract more fish. The men on the boat popped open their beers, the other women prepared to tan. I picked up a knife and began to cut bait. The blood and guts oozed onto my fingers and toes, and I was nine again. I baited my son’s hook, showed him how to cast and within moments he was pulling a fish out of the water. I grabbed a nasty rag from Tom’s bait bucket, wrapped it around the fish, and twisted the hook out the fish’s mouth, and grinned.

By day’s end we had caught dozens of fish and my son had become a fisherman. I knew my Dad was smiling at us from beyond and that I had awakened the fishing gene in my son. We would wait three more years to fish again.

This charter was more refined as they did all the preparation, including cutting up the bait. We didn’t get to cast, but rather bottom fished. It was Maui, the weather was perfect, the company was fun, and we caught plenty of fish. But we wanted to get our fingers in the slime, ooze and guts of real fishing, so we decided to try again.

Day two promised to be more exciting as we went out further and into deeper waters to  catch bigger fish. We would now endlessly reel in to discover that our hooks would be still baited, empty, occasionally attached to a fish, or that sometimes the entire tackle would be gone. Our guides would explain that “something big was down there, taking our fish, along with the tackle.”

We decided to go after the beast. Hours passed with frequent checks of our live bait. But in time our adventure ended and we reeled in our last lines. As we did, the rod that had rested so silently suddenly screamed to attention with a high pitched whining of line, as it was dragged out from the reel. We grabbed the reel and set the hook. In a moment control returned as did a big smile to our guide’s face, as he knew that today’s fishing trip would be one of stories long told. He turned to us and said, “I hope no one has any pressing appointments, we’re going to be here a while.”

We pushed for his prediction. He guessed a 40 pound amber jack or small shark. We took turns reeling in the unknown quarry. I wrapped the belt around my hips and locked the rod into the bar on the front. I pulled back against the resistance in the water and watched the top of the rod do a U-turn against the tension. I reeled in with all my might only to discover the reel spinning in place. I tightened the drag and tried again. I locked this memory into place and then passed the rod on to the next fisherman. She was a college student with a tattoo that wrapped around her hips. She had muscle and attitude and for the next 30 minutes wrestled our mystery fish. She tired, and offered up the belt. My son jumped into the fray.

As the creature near the boat, it lit up with renewed fire and started swimming back and forth across the stern. My son brought it closer to the surface and we could begin to see a turquoise shadow deep in the water. It was clearly BIG. As it approached the surface the outline became unmistakable. We had hooked a six foot, 100 pound shark. It was beautiful and mad as hell. It thrashed in the water and splashed us in the boat. Our guide climbed onto the diving platform and grabbed the fishing line. We asked, “What are you doing?” He replied,” I’m going to grab it by the tail and bring it into the boat.” None of us thought that was a good idea. The shark agreed, and with one mighty twist, broke the line and swam away.

My son stood there with the fishing rod still firmly planted in his throbbing hands, and the biggest smile I may have ever seen stretched across his face. Once again I felt the presence of my Dad, and enjoyed the loving knowledge that his spirit still lived on in our fishing DNA.

(Please note: all examples of photos in the granite bases can be purchased at www.silverliningsentiments.com in addition to over 80 other choices.)

The Road to HA!

Rejoice- Raise your parasol, spin in joy. Today belongs to you. www.silverliningsentiments.com

Road to Hana- Maui, Hawaii

You can ask a 20 year to wake up at 3am to go see a sunrise on the top of a volcano ONCE and they might forgive you. Requesting an early morning wake up call the very next day to drive a rain forest highway, known for its record-breaking number of curves and one lane bridges, to see waterfalls and a black sand beach, might cut the apron strings permanently!

But I was willing to take my chances in the hopes that Maui would redeem me as we began our trek for the Road to Hana, a 68 mile self-guided tour along a mountainous road, overlooking the distracting allure of the Pacific Ocean. If planned correctly, the round trip journey could be made in a day, with an early morning start and a turn around no later than 3pm.

Its important to note that we live in Phoenix, a desert. So driving into the rain forest part of this island, with its lush greenery and waterfalls was hypnotic. We ignored the advice to pick just a few waterfalls and instead stopped at every one. We hiked into the woods, climbed over fallen limbs and waded in cool pools of water. We sat on rocks and like lizards soaked in the sun. We drank in the music of the rushing water as it cascaded down the mountainside.

 As each stop piled upon the next, time disappeared and laughter grew. Soon my son was hiking up through the jungle and mud to reach the peak of the falls and the consideration of jumping down into the collecting pool. Pockets weighed down by a cell phone and digital camera ultimately dissuaded him, much to my worrywart relief.

We had hit the 2:30p mark and our turn around time, and yet we had barely achieved just over half our journey. But we were wet, tanned, covered in mud and wallowing in shared memories.To others this may have been known as the Road to Hana, but to us it would remain the Road to HA!

Maybe on our next visit we will add the final syllable.

(Please note: all examples of photos in the granite bases can be purchased at www.silverliningsentiments.com in addition to over 80 other choices.)

Before the camera clicks…

Lay back, take a sip and let it all go until morning. Maui,Hawaii. www. silverliningsentiments.com

Haleakala Sunrise- Jan ‘09

We arrived in Maui with three goals.

One, to witness the sunrise on the summit of Haleakala; two, to drive the Road to Hana; and three, to catch the Big One on our chartered fishing excursion.

 We never expected that all three would be unparalleled adventures.

The drive to the summit of Haleakala volcano is not measured in miles, but in time, slowed by the darkness of the wee hours of the night, the continuously winding roads that crawl up and up, alongside the volcano’s narrowing and barren roads, and your battle against sleep, as hour after hour passes and the clocks ticks down, from 3 to 4 to 5am, and finally to your arrival just before 6am, at 10,000 feet on top of the world.

As you exit your car you are slapped awake with a brisk dose of frigid air, delivered by unapologetic winds. It feels good and refreshing and the perfect substitute for the cup of expresso you won’t get to enjoy for another few hours. And then the moment wears off and the cold penetrates through the thin layers of Hawaiian shirts, shorts and jeans you hoped would be enough to carry you through a sunrise. Its not, you start to shiver and contemplate getting back in the car, turning on the heat and catching some zzzz’s.

But then in the distance you catch a sliver of the possibility of what is yet to come. On the horizon a thin deep magenta streak stretches horizontally across the sky. It pulls you toward the precipice where hundreds have now lined up with cameras, tripods, binoculars and for the better prepared, blankets.

For the next 40 minutes you are part of a human hive that vibrates and hums, as the masses only whisper out of respect for the beauty unfolding before them.  The transition of color and light as the sun ever-so-slowly blossoms above a sea of clouds is almost imperceptible, and yet if you look away and look back, the change is dramatic.

There is little vegetation at this height. The peak is covered in silken ash. You can’t help but imagine the landscape of another planet, and yet as the sun illuminates this barren plain, you feel life and joy and wonder and hope. And the camera clicks again.

(Please note: all examples of photos in the granite bases can be purchased at www.silverliningsentiments.com in addition to over 80 other choices.)