in the moment

This year is speeding towards being 1/4 done already.  And though I might not be writing here with any kind of regularity, I still am working on my goal of capturing the memories of this year.  In weekly summaries {for myself} I've recorded the trips we've taken, times we've gone to the vet, times spent with friends, money spent maintaining the car, and sunsets, sunrises and T.V. shows watched.  I keep a working document in google drive - adding notes as the week progresses and writing all up at the end.  

And, I want to shout it out loud but whisper it at the same time {just so that I don't jinx things}, I've kept up with my 365 project this year.  I've made a conscious effort to stay inspired.  I've looked for photographers who's pictures capture my imagination.  Their documentary, storytelling styles  are something I hope to emulate.  And I've been practicing just that - getting more portraits {even of me} and pictures that set the scene.  And ones that, by using the light I have tell the story of that moment.  It's tricky, but I'll keep trying.

Here are a few photographers that I've found to keep my inspired:

• adventures in pinksugarland
• Documenting Delight
• isabel furie
• molly flanagan
• you are my wild

a salty snooze

So we piled into the car - two photographers, one photographer's wife-to-be, and me.  Two minutes later we were making the first mandatory stop.  Sandwiches to fill hungry bellies.  Then we piled back into the car and drove on north.  The warm sun and winding roads soon rocked every passenger to sleep.  And then we were there - Salt Point State Park.

The photographers ambled off in search of promised awesome tafoni.  The ladies lagged behind - shooting little details that caught their eye and chatting about wedding details.  Flowers, diy, the possibility of a wagon.  When we caught up with the photographers they were cursing the cloudless skies - like usual.  But the tafoni was found and it was cool.  And though the cold wind cut through any hope of a warm evening, the company was just fine.

We high tailed it once the sun dipped below the horizon.  Enchiladas all around and we were back on the road headed home.  Yet again, all passengers slept the ride away.  And that was that.  Lesson learned - web cam hints of maybe possibly clouds are not to be trusted.

How we all feel about cloudless, cold sunsets.

looooooooone pine and other dinky towns

Do you know what makes for a good vacation if you happen to be a landscape photographer's wife?  

Most certainly, it will involve much driving.  Say 7 hours south and east to a dinky town in the middle of nowhere.  Or say 7 hours north to a dinky town in the middle of nowhere.  Dinky towns in the middle of nowhere are where it's at.  

And your driving schedule will be dictated by the possibility of being somewhere "awesome" for sunrise or sunset or the blue hour before or the blue hour after.  Or if sunrise looks like a bust {i.e. fogged out? clear blue skies?} you'll keep on driving while the photographer who should be on sunrise watch - just incase - falls quietly asleep in the passenger seat.  And when the skies turn unbelievably pink you'd better wake that photographer's butt up.  Because he would be pissed to miss such a color display although he couldn't seem to stay awake enough to wait for it to come.

After all that driving you'll make it to your destination.  And if it's cold enough you'll luck out and not have to sleep on the ground.  {p.s. I actually do really like camping, but sometimes an actual bed is nice too.}  Extra bonus score - the hotel you're staying at has an on demand pancake machine as part of the included breakfast.  Total score!  

And it will be a good vacation when with a little searching and some general directions you find an awesome {though often photographed} arch in the dark.  And the vacation will be even better when you find a less photographed, somewhat secret rock covered in historic pictograms.  You'll get a chance to show case your strength helping to push your photographer husband up to said rock.  And you'll only lose a little dignity when as he's helping you down from the rock and lets go of your hand you freak out just a little till you realize he was right.  The ground was just an inch away.  

And you'll traverse muddy trails and count it as a win that you don't end up flat on your backside.  You'll find craggily rocks that sit of coasts where fog plays hide and seek.  Light beams will stop you in your tracks and you'll talk about how even when you try to go with the flow of the weather you're both still learning in that regard.  It'll be a good vacation for a photographer's wife when you discover that "the best restaurant" really does have awesome french dips and pretty good burgers.  You'll find a lichen beard and take funny pictures with your bearded photographer husband.  Because you'll have learned that everything is more awesome with a beard.  

So you'll wake up early and might go to bed late.  You'll drive and drive and drive.  Watch stars come out in the cold cold evening.  And see some of the most amazing things.  All in the life of a photographer's wife.   

{pictures from our winter travels to Lone Pine and Brookings}

we did {patagonia}

The windswept lands of Patagonia are said to have their own rhythm.  And if one can get past the images of fancy outdoor gear, the name Patagonia brings to mind jagged peaks, snow glaciers and adventure.  With some spontaneity - as spontaneous as one can be while still purchasing plane tickets in advance - we set our sights on capturing Patagonia.  We left home towards the tail-end of fall and landed in Argentina on a bright spring day.  The impossibly long day of travel was only getting us ready for two weeks of long days.  Instead of days with shrinking daylight we had left behind at home, we found ourselves in a land where the sun just barely set by 10pm.  Three plane flights, a shuttle ride and a night in the little town of El Chalten behind us, we set out to find the rhythm of Patagonia.

From one day to the next, each fell into a predictable pattern.  If we had spent the night in town then that next day we gathered the last essential bits {churros with gooey caramel centers are essential} and headed out of town.  Each time we headed out we spent one more night backpacking - two, then three, then four nights.  Each time we headed out our legs burned under the weight of our packs as we made our way up the ungraded hiking trails.  The trail right out of town to Laguna Torre has a lung-busting stretch right at the beginning before mellowing out for most of the way.

The first time we hiked out, it was under blue skies with puffy clouds.  We could see the peaks of Cerro Torre in the distance.  We were excited to begin our adventure.  We made camp at Campamento DeAgonstini just a short walk from the turquoise, glacier chunk filled Laguna Torre.  At the ridge above the lake the infamous winds felt like at any moment they might pick us up and knock us clean off our feet.  At lake level the winds weren't as angry and my eyes could finally stop tearing up.  Still, the wind whipped the water into waves that bobbed the big blue ice blocks.

We discovered that the mountains are magnets for clouds and seem to create their own weather systems.  We discovered that we were right in giving ourselves the full two weeks to capture the light on the peaks from just three locations.  And we discovered that even when the right light didn't seem to land where we hoped it would, Patagonia gave us just enough wonder to keep us happy and willing to try again and again.

To start the second trip out, we took a shuttle ride up to the trailhead.  The driver pointed us in the right direction and we were off into the beginnings of snow flurries.  After going about 200 yards without a sign pointing towards our destination - Laguna de Los Tres {and Campamento Poincenot} we got worried.  I hustled back to the fancy hostel at the trailhead, confirmed our directions and made use of their indoor plumbing.  Soon we were pulling out ponchos to have handy incase the snow/rain kicked into high gear.  It wasn't five minutes later though, the trail led us into a small gully, the weather stopped and we had to peel the layers from our sticky bodies.

But the snowy weather didn't really go away.  And by the time we had reached Poincenot it was actually snowing on us.  Campamento Poincenot is at the base of a long trail that leads up to Laguna de Los Tres.  The trail felt nearly vertical at times and posted signs near the beginning warned that it could be dangerous.  That, with the continued increasingly snowy conditions had us worried, but we were determined to hike it {after quickly setting up camp} so that we would know what we would be in for at sunrise the next day.  Yet when we reached the top, after an hour of hiking, we weren't even sure if it was the top. Visibility was so bad we couldn't make out any lake or the peaks of Mount Fitz Roy.  It took us less than a minute to decide it was best just to turn right back around and try again in the morning.

We woke to a winter wonderland lit by the moon.  Part way up the big climb we stopped.  Since we couldn't see any peaks and weren't quite sure if we had found the right spot the day before it was decided it would be best to catch sunrise where we were.  The sparkly white snow and the pink skies made it seem magical.  And the promised nap after returning to camp kept me going.

That's how we did our days - sunrise, breakfast, nap, a little exploring, dinner, sunset and to bed.  We boiled fresh eggs at camp for egg salad sandwiches.  Our best camp dinner was pasta with marinara and Gouda; the worst was plain white rice {on Thanksgiving no less} since the beans we got to pair with it had been less than appetizing the night before.  Breakfast was oatmeal.  We finally got that right on our last trip with the addition of salt and sugar and even some raisins.  The naps were always much needed.  Needed to rest our tired and achy feet, legs and backs.  Needed because sunset came so late and sunrise so early and when one must be at the right spot before sunrise and getting to the right spot takes an hour hike, one must get up way way way too early.

After our morning failed attempt at Laguna de Los Tres we woke up from our nap to an American shouting through camp, "Wake up everyone! You can see Fitz Roy!"  And so you could.  The thick clouds from the early morning had broken up and puffy white ones danced in front of blue skies and the rocks above.  We made our second trek up the steep hill to discover that the reason we didn't see the lake before was that it was frozen over and covered in snow.  There would be no turquoise Laguna de Los Tres to capture reflected Mount Fitz Roy in for us on this trip.  That didn't keep us from making that heart pumping hike up the mountain a total of two more times.

We found our way over boulders and rocks to Laguna Sucia that lies below Laguna de Los Tres.  The lake is less visited and the trail to it not much of a trail.  Where hiking up to Laguna de Los Tres was tiring because of all the up, the walk to Laguna Sucia exhausted our minds.  Each step required thought and judgement - can I reach that rock, will it wobble under my feet, which way should I go?  Yet, following the river up to the lake was completely rewarding.  We watched sunrise twice here with only a few birds as company {given, one of those times the sun didn't make an appearance}.

Patagonia only decided to give in after kicking our backsides just one more time - the beginning of our last trip out.  The previously protected campground near Laguna Torre was pummeled by sand-filled winds when we set up camp there the second time.  We barricaded our tent with rocks and fallen branches after the sand found its way right into the tent.  The next day we moved our tent in hopes to find a more protected location.  Only to discover upon waking from a nap that our tent was outside the campground boundaries and we needed to move it again.  Another disappointing sunrise that morning in conjunction with the sandy wind had us quite discouraged.  But the ranger who requested we move our tent gave us a sliver of hope.  There'd be no more wind and no clouds tomorrow.  So we stuck it out another night.

We didn't fully believe the ranger, but the next morning there was no wind, there were no clouds.  Warm sunlight at sunrise hit Cerro Torre.  We were thrilled.

For the last two nights we made our way back to the base of Mount Fitz Roy and Laguna de Los Tres. And in the two sunrises we had left we got lucky - light on the peaks both times.  Lukas renamed Laguna de Los Tres - Laguna de Los Quatro since that was the number of times we had to hike up there to be rewarded with light we were looking for.

The last morning we made our way back to Sucia. What had been a pretty easy rock hop at a stream that fed into the river coming out of Laguna Sucia now held us up.  The water levels had risen and in the dark of the morning finding our way across was a challenge.  But a challenge we surmounted and the sun made its appearance on the mountains above.  That last morning at Sucia it was hard to leave.  The golden light lingered.  How can you walk away from something that had been dancing just out of reach for so long?

Yet we had a ride reserved and had to make it back to town in time for that.  And in time to get more tasty empanadas.  Even though we hadn't wanted to get on the three hour ride smelling like four nights in the backcountry that's just what we did.  Sure, the mid-trip bucket shower probably helped a bit in that department.  The shuttle took us back to El Calafate.  We made plentiful use of the hot showers and flushing toilets that night.  The next morning we were winging our way home.

I think we did find a rhythm in Patagonia.  I think that the reward of golden light was worth the challenge, the hiking, the aching backs and knees and feet.  I think we surprised ourselves in being able to have such a grand adventure.  And we learned that maybe so many nights of backpacking might be a little too much.

{memory}

My goal for this excitingly fresh new year... to be a better keeper of memories.  Capturing both the new ones we'll create this year and documenting tangibly older ones.  All last year a photo album sat waiting for me to add pictures to it.  Or maybe it was more than a year that this album of possibility has lingered empty.  Either way, no matter.  This year my hope is to fill it.  This year I hope to put in place habits of memory keeping.

And this year, I'm renewing my goal of a picture a day.  Last year I tried, lost steam and phoned it in on too many a day.  But look at that.  Every 365 days we get to push the reset button and try again.  And try again I will.  I'll only grow my skills with mindful practice.  So, no more quick shutter button pushes right before climbing into bed.  And more planning the shots I'll hope to capture so I'll be ready when the moment happens.  More stepping out of my comfort zone to get the picture.  Less being lazy.

So here's to a year filled with more pictures and more stories and little details.  Here's to a year of memories.  {Let's start with our crazy adventure to Patagonia!}

monsters, dinos and vikings!

I know I just posted about this quilt... but here's the full story.

Dana of Old Red Barn Company issued a quilt challenge throw down on Flickr and the timing couldn't have been more perfect.  It was just the inspiration I needed to start a quilt for our friends' soon-to-be-born baby.  Are you a fast sewer?  There's still a few days to get in on the fun.  Challenge accepted!

Picking out the color palette was a challenge in and of itself.  There are so many pretty options, but what to choose for a little boy?  And when I finally settled on dusty greens and yellows {a different palette then what you're seeing here} my fabric options were too limited.  So, I switched to this one...

With a name like that and such playful colors, this was the winner.  And have you seen the cute "boy" fabrics that have blue backgrounds?!  So much fun!

The next step was designing the quilt.  Enter... the internet and microsoft paint.  That might not be the most technical way to design a quilt, but it worked for me.  I found graph paper online and dumped that into a paint canvas.  Then I found each of the fabrics I'd bought and borrowed their images from the web.  Using what I think is called "magic numbers" - blocks with sides of 3" or 6" - I made up the quilt - copy and paste and repeat.

The last step in the design process for me was to plan out how I'd sew the pieces together.  To do this I dropped the whole quilt into a word document and added large rectangles around groupings of the little blocks.  As I went I noticed where I ran into some y-seam issues and tried to rid the quilt of them with a few design tweaks.  But in the end I was left with one y-seam.  Having never done that before I was a bit worried, but surprisingly it wasn't a problem at all.  {beginner's luck?!}

A little cutting and a little sewing later the quilt was all done.  Or so I thought... then Lukas convinced me that it'd look better with some binding.  And he was right {I'm sure he'd want me to add "like always"}.

Blogger’s Quilt Festival Stats

Finished quilt measures about : 36″x 36″
Special techniques used : magic number{?}
Quilted by: me!
Best Category: Baby Quilt

Check out all the beautiful quilts in the Blogger's Quilt Festival!

sew baby boy {huck finn}

His big sister got a quilt {and lots of other goodies too} so that meant this soon-to-be-born little boy would need a quilt too.  Except, when I told Lukas I was going to make a quilt Lukas informed me that "a quilt is kinda boring".  Then he suggested I make a hat.  So, what's a girl to do?  Except make both!

I went with the Huck Finn cap from Sew Liberated.  This hat is so darling and in the smallest size {6-12 months} it's so tiny.  I spent the longest time in Harts picking out the fabrics.  First I had a rusty brown fabric picked out for the outer fabric, but I couldn't find a lining fabric to go with it.  At least not one I loved.  So I switched tactics and picked the lining first.  Awesome alligators!  

The pattern was easy to follow and I made sure to take my time with it.  I was a bit confused about the last step of stitching down the elastic, but in the end I think it worked out fine.    

The quilt fabrics just jumped off the shelf - fun blue prints - monsters, dinosaurs, and vikings!  They looked awesome paired with some quilter linens.  And the cozy brown minky for the backside had me wishing this was going to be my quilt.  My plan was to not use binding on the quilt, but Lukas {rightly} convinced me it'd look so much better with binding.  Then it was about 1/2 a day spent in Joann's trying to decide on the binding color.  Good thing Lukas was just a text away and suggested red - it was the right decision.

All wrapped up with a little onesie card.  So fun to sew for a new little baby.

in season... in this moment {september}

I am...

{feeling} rested from a solid night's sleep

{enjoying} taking my time waking up and knowing I've got the full day ahead of me

{loving} the "manly" and awesome stack of fabric that I got yesterday

{remembering} the purple bike with the hard plastic seat.  This journal project has gotten me thinking.

{thinking} about buying plane tickets for a big trip in November

{wondering} if I should buy strawberries again this week to make another batch of quick freezer jam

{hoping} I get all my sewing done today.  The list is long and I'm excited!

{anticipating} another weekend {already!} with minimal to no plans

{listening} to Brook Lee Catastrophe and thinking we should remember to check if they're in town more often

{watching} the fog roll in a spoil our plans to shoot Shark Fin Cove last night

{saying} good morning to a husband that got a few extra sleep-in minutes in the bed - all to himself

{inspired by} a baby shower coming soon and "requiring" a little for baby sewing

we drove, we hiked; we hiked, we drove

By the third hotel Lukas was frustrated with me and opted to stay in the car while I "cross countried" up an embankment to reach the Motel 6.  And when his phone wouldn't respond to my text letting him know they offered the cheapest room in town he ended up joining me in the drab, utilitarian lobby.  A swipe and a sign and we had an upstairs room for the night - one that was not at all fancy but was ready now and that worked for us.  We were both eager to be settled into the next installment of our Labor Day weekend adventures.

The adventure had started in the dark in Santa Cruz that Friday morning.  It was still dark when our untrusty GPS sent us on our first u-turn.  And after that it stopped making any sense.  We made at least two complete circuits of Modesto before finding the way out of town and on to Oakdale where we regained the familiar track.  That added an hour to our drive.  We rode through Yosemite mentally crossing our fingers that we'd reach Mono Lake in time to get a walk-up permit.  The permit was needed to spend a couple nights in the wilderness of the Eastern Sierras.  All the reserve-ahead permits were long gone by the time we had made our destination decision.  We could however, get a walk-up permit at 11am the day before and that was what we were after.

At 10:30 we finally pulled into the dusty dry parking lot of the Mono Lake visitor center.  I hurried out of the car - long lines envisioned in my head.  Yet, inside it was calm, cool and uncrowded.  We ended up wondering around the center for half an hour.  Five minutes after 11am we were back on the road, permit in hand.

And that brings us back to the hotel search and our last evening in civilization - well at least for a couple days.  We wrote off the lackadaisical sunset in favor of dinner.  But only after driving back to Yosemite and deciding not to hike to Cathedral Lakes.  Sunrise the next morning at Silver Lake also was unpicture worthy and we opted for a bit more shut eye in the budget "friendly" Motel 6 room.

Getting to the trail head was reminiscent of Disneyland.  While we stood in line to board the shuttle bus, tickets in hand, a guy talked at us over a hand held mic/PA system.  Herds of people milled around, many getting ready for mountain biking or a trip up the snowless mountain on a gondola.  Our shuttle driver wanted so desperately to be a a tour guide.  She pointed out such things as mostly obscure lakes and trees that had been blown over.

Our hike out along Shadow Creek Trail was most entirely up hill and entirely tiring.  Upon reaching Ediza Lake we continued along the south side to get to the approved areas for camping.  We found an awesome spot nestled among the tall trees.  But unfortunately, as Lukas pointed out, it was very near a few other "awesome spots".  Still, being tired as our out of shape selves were, we set up camp there and as afternoon progressed the other spots around us filled up.

That evening we dined on rehydrated dehydrated backpackers meals - mine a very lumpy mac and cheese since I failed to correctly read all three lines of directions.  As the light faded Lukas shot pictures along the nearby stream.  We turned in for bed in our cozy two man tent just as it really got dark.

All too soon after a night in which we both felt like we were awake more than asleep the alarm cold was sounding off.  By bright full moon light we got dressed and hardly needed our flashlight as we made our way down to and around the lake.  I parked myself on a rock and watched Lukas hop from rock to rock.  At blue hour the water in the lake was calm and reflective.  All of a sudden golden light splashed across the Minarets in the background.  Lukas was frantically shooting.  And then just as quickly the light quality changed and the day had begun.

We breakfasted on oatmeal - maple brown sugar taking me back to family car camping trips growing up - mixed with a little protein powder.  Then, since we couldn't figure out what to do next, we took a much needed nap.  It was mid day and hot in the tent when we woke up.

I was just warm enough that a dip in the lake sounded like it might be enticing.  Once in my swimsuit I wasn't quite sure if it still sounded like a good idea but we made our way down to the water's edge.  The sun was warm but the water was bitterly cold.  Lukas laughed when I squealed after just dipping my toes in the water.  It was cold!  I waded out on the squishy, mud at the bottom of the lake.  At mid thigh I counted "1, 2, 3" and plunged under the water.  Up and sputtering I quickly headed back to shore.  Lukas chided me, "I thought you were gonna swim around."  So I turned around, got back in, took two side strokes and came right back.  Refreshed, I warmed up on a big flat rock then donned hiking boots and the bright orange quick drying towel for our walk back to camp.

After a little exploring that afternoon and the fact that even more people were setting up camp near us we packed up and moved camp.  The new camp spot put us further from a water source and up a big hill.  Both things that made it certain that no one else would move over there.  And then while having our early dinner I noticed across from us - and near our old campsite - a big cascading waterfall.  Quickly we changed our post dinner photography plans and we were off to explore the waterfall.

That night was colder than the first and we both ended up sleeping in our thermals.  We were already tucked in when Lukas had to water some trees.  He called back to me to check out the sky so I poked my head out of the tent.  The moon hadn't risen yet and the sky was inky with millions of startlingly bright stars.  Beautiful.  Yet, the cold night air had Lukas scurrying back to the tent and that was the end of the stargazing.

Again the alarm woke us up early early.  The last morning we made our way down the hill from our camp and then up the hill by the waterfall.  Lukas had traded in the idea of reshooting the lake for a morning spent at the waterfall - the peaks surrounding creating a tempting backdrop.  When the light changed I headed back to camp to start the packing process and Lukas headed to one last spot on the inlet creek.

We were hoping the downhill nature of our return hike would mean it wouldn't take us as long.  But checking our average moving speed on the GPS we weren't making much better time - though we didn't have to rest nearly as much.  At the end of the trail we waited for the shuttle bus.  Though one comes by about every 20 minutes, the one we got on seemed to wait forever before making the ascent to the parking area.  Like stinky, very stinky, sardines, the bus finally got us back to the parking.  We headed back into town for a quick grab of perishable foods - french fries, soda, sandwiches.  It was a junky food pig out that we'd pay for later with tummy aches.

We didn't bother with the GPS on the way home - who wants to make circles and u-turns?! But our late start time for the drive back meant we were joining the herds moving west.  Lukas blew past lollygaggers on Tioga Pass, but there wasn't much we could do about the pace once we got out of Yosemite and had to travel through the little one stop light towns along highway 120.

It was after midnight when we reached home.  That was after a pitstop in Santa Cruz to pick up the kitty, eat a grilled cheese, do our stinky laundry and take a little {necessary} nap.  And that... that was it.