Seeing 2013 (#27)

For your consideration:  an emphatic display of the potent energy infusing the miracle of organic life, an immense, relentless force ever striving for pure growth and affirming expansion . . . all the while adorned with a sublime complexity and delicate detail which remains virtually invisible at first, casual glance.

Thus this macro study:  a chance, dear reader, to pause and ponder the myriad wonders and beauty of our everyday surroundings — too often subsumed by our preoccupation with the "bigger picture" of modern society's demand for accomplishment, for the next quick fix, the latest technological marvel, and (especially) the ever quicker instant social media meme . . . 

And yet for our all our perceived, self-congratulatory "advancements" . . . well, as a now (virtually forgotten) mega-artist one crowed, you can't touch this:

Yellow Blast, #6124-7D

© 2013 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: June 23, 2013, Canon 7D; f/9 @ 1/250 sec; ±0 EV; ISO 500;
Canon EF 100mm f/2.8 Macro USM

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Visit my full photographic repository at jwmurray.smugmug.com

Seeing 2013 (#26)

For your consideration:  a candid portrait of stoic grief, a man deep in thought — perhaps emotionally immersed to a degree even unfathomable to himself.

This is my father-in-law.  The occasion, a recent sojourn to a small, hot town made by a clutch of close family from both coasts, was not a pleasant one: we gathered as shepherds for this man's wife's journey to the eternity awaiting us all.

Ironically, the unstated belief among us was that Mr Book would precede Loretta to the Other Side.  Yet presumptions are proven yet again to be notoriously unreliable.

This man's frail exterior is but a cosmetic veneer for a tough, determined soldier of life.  Indeed, the pose here is hardly one of resigned passivity; I (surreptitiously) focused on this moment in an effort to capture his deliberant perseverance in light of inexpressibly painful circumstances.  The body language may be closed, but the expression reveals a stout soul.

Loretta Mauren Kozial Book passed over four days after this image was taken.  Throughout out the agonizing process of his wife's deterioration Jay lived each moment with an aching yet grace-infused dignity which obviously came naturally to him.  Reflecting on losing his wife, soulmate and life partner of sixty-three years, he shrugged his shoulders and simply said, "It's a part of life".  And:  "When you gotta go, you gotta go."

This is a man who has also, over the course of his lifetime, lost three sons, their lives cut short far far too prematurely.  At the wedding of his daughter to me, he announced from the stage before our gathered family and friends, "I have a new son."  Wow.  To this day I am in awe of that intimate sentiment.

Thus it was an honor and profound privilege to be allowed into this proud man's presence during this undoubtedly excruciating passage.  He epitomized a role model we could all do well to emulate.

May you be free from pain and suffering, dad.  Peace be on you.

Jay Book, June 1, 2013, Kingman, AZ, #5190-7D

© 2013 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: June 1, 2013, Canon 7D; f/3.2 @ 1/100 sec; ±0 EV; ISO 640;
Canon EF 24-70mm f/2.8L II USM @ 65mm

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Seeing 2013 (#25)

For your consideration:  a mother-child reunion (perhaps) . . .

The setting:  an early morning hike in the Saguaro National Park, destination Wasson Peak via the Hugh Norris Trail.

Having grown up in Tucson (back in a time when large swaths of natural desert still survived within the city limits) I learned at an early age to respect the pointed, painful dangers of navigating paths more often than not dotted with well-armed cacti.   The species posing hazards to the unwary were plentiful and varied: barrel cacti, century plants, saguaro, prickly pear and juniper, among others.

The most fearsome of all, of course, was the infamous Jumping Cholla (pronounced "choy-ya").  By the age of five, any kid growing up in the Tucson of my youth well knew the supernatural, malevolent powers of this particular desert inhabitant.

Oh yes:  they stood seemingly inert, silently biding time and enduring the passing of the blistering summer sun, impervious to the heat as were the rest of their needle-armed kin.  We children weren't fooled, however: plentiful were the stories of sudden, unprovoked attacks on playmates who let their guard down.  The lore was maturely established.

Even so, it did seem at some level hard to really believe such a thing was possible —that a plant, rooted in the ground, could spontaneously fling itself at passersby, with painful results.  Nonetheless, we all knew that the first rule of playing in our natural surroundings was to give the jumpers a wide berth.

As for me, the day inevitably arrived when I must've gotten careless, if not cavalier . . . without any provocation on my part — honest! — the lone cholla in my neighbor's yard lunged and got me!  I'd like to believe that I fell to the ground and stoically, bravely yelled to my playing mates "I've been hit!", but 'tis far more likely I burst into tears and immediately fled the ambush in search of parental triage.

Years, nay decades have passed (without a purple heart I might add), and I've come to believe that of course these well-defended organisms are benign, unless brushed up against.  Certainly such plants can't harbor sentient sensibilities, let alone piercing strategic tendencies.

However . . . discovering this particular specimen . . . Well, it does seem to be cradling an offspring, yes?  A ginger embrace . . . and did I hear whispers of "wait until he [me] gets closer . . . patience . . . patience . . ."  Or was that just my vivid imagination?

Regardless . . . although I know better . .  I gave this prickly pair plenty of room as I continued my own assault, upwards towards Wasson's summit.  

It's never a good idea to disturb a mother and her cub.

Cholla (Prickly Pair), #3014-7D; 

© 2013 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details:  April 8, 2013, Canon 7D; f/6.3 @ 1/500 sec; ±0 EV; ISO 320;

Canon EF 70-300mm f/4-5.6L IS USM @ 135mm

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Visit my full photographic repository at jwmurray.smugmug.com