Photography – Sittin' Ugly Sistahs

Every Picture Tells a Story

Posted on June 11, 2021 by Nancy Malcolm

When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.

Ansel Adams

When I am behind my camera, I see things that others miss. I feel new and young and inquisitive. My world is more interesting, with colors so vivid it is almost too much to bear, and I am able to focus on what really matters, the fine details of the bigger picture.

When I retired, I upgraded my little Nikon Coolpix to this bad boy, Nikon D3500. The 3500 came with one lens that was adequate and allowed me to snap pics from 17-55 feet, but as I got used to taking photos and our travels expanded, I soon “needed” a larger lens. (18-400)

On a trip to Mount Vernon, Virginia, the historic home of George and Martha Washington, I found myself enthralled with the immaculate grounds, gardens, and the Potomac River. You can actually sit in rocking chairs on the back porch and just stare at the beautiful trees, river, and horizon. There are probably 40 plus rocking chairs set up just for visitors.

By now, Boo knows nothing means more to me on vacation than taking photos. He lets me wander and stop to snap as much as I want. Sometimes he will call out worthy subjects and point to interesting sights, as he did at Mount Vernon.

“Babe, look at the cool bird sitting on top of that huge magnolia tree.”

I love photographing trees and as I was snapping away, I felt something behind me as two rather ‘weathered’ ladies tiptoed up, whispering, “We saw it too. You’ve got quite an eye.”

I turned smiling, “Thank you. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Have you seen one before?” they asked, still whispering.

“Oh sure, lots of times. We have them in Texas.” I whispered back.

“Ohhhhhh my, that’s rare. They are usually only seen in this region. Do you use a journal or keep track online?” One lady asked.

And that is when I realized that they thought I was a Birder. Before I had to admit I was talking about the tree, the bird flew off and two more with it that had been hiding in the tree.

Impressively, I snapped photo after photo of the birds in flight and was able to follow the birds across the sky, all the while not having a clue as to what kind of birds they were.

The ladies stopped and burst into an applause. Then waved fondly as they moved on down the path.

“Good luck!” they called.

There is something about a large camera that makes people think you must be taking important photos and you must know what you are doing. On my first ever trip to Mardi Gras, I went with my Sittn’ Ugly Sistah, Ginger, to her parents’ home in Eunice, Louisiana. Our friends, Mary and Cynthia went too and the three of them really schooled me as to Mardi Gras etiquette. Once we got to downtown Eunice, I was behind my camera soaking up the colors, sights, and action.

People would stop and ask, “Will you take our picture?” They never seemed to worry about seeing the picture or wondering where it would go, they just wanted to be photographed. Couples would dance by on the street and pose, waiting for me to snap. I gladly obliged. I could almost hear the band and smell the gumbo through my lens.

I love photographing pets, and I could make a large coffee table book just on the pictures I have of our cat. She’s very photogenic, if I do say so myself, and she is a subject that never gets old.

On a beach trip to Galveston, Boo broke speed limits and raced against time to get me to ‘the best place in Galveston to capture a sunset.’ He googled the location and even carried my tripod, while helping me out onto the pier. In Maine, he carried my camera backpack all the way on our three-mile hike around the pond.

In Glacier National Park, he sprinted through the rain with my camera under his shirt just to make sure the camera stayed dry. At family gatherings, he’s constantly asking, “Did you get that?” He’s happy to see me happy taking pictures. Even Uncle B, Boo’s brother, is supportive. He gave me his tripod and is always sending me photos he knows I would appreciate.

When your heart jumps every time your camera locks focus- You’ve become a photographer.

Mark Denman

My heart jumps when I photograph my grandkids. In fact, my favorite subjects are the people I love. My second favorite is nature. Any raindrop, insect, flower, tree, or animal; all gardens, mountains, oceans, and clouds. My mind actually sees things within a frame. It’s as if my vision is a camera lens.

Most of my photography is what the professionals call a “happy accident.” I accidently get a beautiful shot and I’m not sure how it happened. I’ve taken classes, yet sometimes I feel intimidated by people with seemingly more knowledge, bigger vocabularies, and fancier equipment. But, as with writing, there are a lot of people who talk about it, think about it and plan to do it, and there are those of us who do. I’m taking a chance, embracing imperfection and enjoying my photography more than I could ever explain. It simply fills my soul, and that’s all I need to know.

Pets, Photography

How To Love A Cat

Posted on October 9, 2020 by Nancy Malcolm

How To Love A Cat by Nancy Malcolm

We filled out mountains of paperwork, completed a background check, paid our fee, did a home-visit to the foster parent and solemnly swore to care for her until the end of time. We knew we would be a good match, but did they?

Emmy Lynn came to us through an adoption agency. She had been born during Hurricane Harvey and transplanted to Austin shortly thereafter. We have always been partial to little black cats, so after our Blackie left this earth, we waited one year to make sure we were ready.

“She’s shy,” the foster parent kept saying, but she also had two other cats and a loud, hyperactive Lab living there, too. We persevered and finally got to hold her for a minute or so before saying yes, we wanted to adopt. A week later, we were bringing her home, where she promptly hid inside our leather couch for two days.

“She’s shy,” we mused.

She finally crept out from the couch and began purring, rubbing our legs, eating, and pooping. Then, over night she began racing around the house, demanding snacks and kicking her litter out of the box.

“Remember, she’s just a kitten,” Boo smiled. “She needs our love and support.”

“I don’t get a minute to myself,” I countered. “She follows me around the house, wanting me to carry her everywhere and is only happy if I sit still and pet her.”

“So?”

“I’m busy,” I retorted. (Busy being retired) “She’s like a toddler.”

In the morning during my sittin ugly time, she would sit on my lap while I did my prayers and daily reader. If I dared to get up for more coffee, she would chew on my Bible and try to bite me when I took it away. Get thee behind me, Satan!

She would race from room to room, jump on counters, and at Christmas she jumped up into the tree trying to bite the lights. At one point, I called the adoption agency behavior hotline. I was anonymous, but I felt ashamed as I kept asking, “Is this normal? I don’t know what to do. I got a water bottle to spritz her when she acts up….”

“Oh No,” she interrupted. “Absolutely no spray bottles!!!”

The hotline worker kept repeating that she is a kitten and simply doing what kittens do. “The only acceptable discipline for her is ‘time-out’, she said.

“How do I do that?”

“You go in another room for a few minutes and she will eventually understand that Mommy will not accept her behavior.”

“Thank you,” I said without meaning it, and I promptly went to my room and shut the door.

The next day, I went to the swanky pet store in our neighborhood and asked for help in keeping this little kitty happy and entertained. Money was no object as I purchased several ‘never fails’ and ‘guaranteed’ toys and gadgets. I vowed to stay calm and renew my patience with this adorable, bad to the bone kitty, and s l o w l y she adjusted to life and we have adjusted to her.

Emmy has charmed the grandkids and trained them to her liking. She will play fetch with her soft felt balls, even bringing them back, and dropping it at my feet. She sleeps with her tongue out and still is the happiest in my arms or on my lap. She sits in the ivy in the front yard and waits for mothers pushing strollers so she can greet the children, and she climbs up between the comforter and sheets on the guest bed to nap when no one is home. If we go out of town, she is always forgiving and charms her sitters with good behavior.

She is delightful, funny, loving and loyal. She’s our little black kitty and this we know to be true…In a perfect world every cat would have a home and every home would have a cat.

Boo, Nature, Photography

Squirrels Are Nuts

Posted on August 28, 2020 by Nancy Malcolm

“Those Bastards!” I heard Boo hollar from the family room window.

“Those dang squirrels have eaten every bite of the bird seed and are now taunting the Bluejays.”

We stood side by side, noses pressed against the window watching as the squirrely creatures took over the backyard.

“It’s like a gang has taken over ‘the yard’ at Alcatraz. Instead of the Bloods and Crips, it’s the Flying Nuts and the Angry Birds,” I said.

A few years ago our daughter and son-in-law gave us the Yankee Flipper bird feeder, which was our eighth bird feeder in five years. It was pricey, sturdy and guaranteed to keep squirrels away from the bird food. “Guaranteed!”

The Yankee Flipper is designed to spin and flip anything heavier than a bird. I hate to admit it, but we had a blast watching as it spun, and then gently tossed the squirrels into the grass. No squirrels were harmed in the process, but it provided hours of entertainment as we watched our pesky guests become dazed and confused.

Squirrels are a member of the rodent family. They include tree squirrels, ground squirrels, chipmunks, groundhogs, flying squirrels and prairie dogs. (I always thought a tree squirrel and a ground squirrel were the same thing.) There are red squirrels and black squirrels and our usually brown ones. Who knew there could be so many different species?

What is a squirrel’s purpose in life? I used to think they were so cute, but now they dig up my plants and eat my bird seed. Remember Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies? She was always cooking up a mess of stewed squirrel or roast possum. Sounds like the Keto diet gone amuck. And talk about attitude…squirrels taunt birds and upset the cat with high pitched chirping, squeeks, scraping and barks. They act entitled and indignant all at the same time.

Just for fun I read about having a squirrel for a spirit animal. Who would openly admit this, I wondered? To have a squirrel on your totem pole means you are very resourceful and that you prepare for the present and future. And if you dream about squirrels it means you need to lighten your load of clutter and unnecessary items, and that you need more fun in your life. I tell you this because I know there are still squirrel lovers out there, although the number may be dwindling.

Lest I digress, the Yankee Flipper motor had to be charged occasionally to keep the twirl and flip going. But, as the years have gone by it has lost its ability to juice up.

Our birds love the large feeder but the problem is the squirrels think it is for them, too. I personally have watched as a squirrel hangs between the feeder and the tree, perpendicular to the ground, swinging to and fro until he can make the leap. Sometimes they jump from the tree onto the top of the feeder and shimmy down to the food. I must admit, they are agile little daredevils. When we open the backdoor, they freeze to see who it is. If it’s me, they hang loose and gingerly take their time climbing back up the tree. If it’s Boo, they disappear in a matter of seconds and perch high enough to chatter and backtalk until he goes back in.

“I won’t go down without a fight” Boo saluted. “They have met their match. Remember when we went to Yosemite, and they taught us to clap our hands loud and yell ‘Hey bear’ if we came across a grizzly?”

“Yes, Babe, but….” As I turned to look his way, I saw him in his Ranger hat and filling up a water gun, but it was too late. He was heading out into the back yard.

‘I give up’, I whispered to myself and moved closer to watch what would happen next. Squirrels are nuts, and Boo… is Boo.

All photographs are my own…..obviously

Photography

The Hummingbird

Posted on July 6, 2020 by Nancy Malcolm

In grief as in life, we often say, see or do things that make us feel better or more connected to our loved ones.

“Oh, there’s Dad again,” someone may say while looking out the kitchen window at a cardinal sitting on a fence post. While another might notice yellow butterflies on their morning walks, declaring, “I know that’s Mom. She loved the color yellow.”

It’s not so much that I believe my loved ones are reincarnated into insects or birds, but it does feel like a gentle embrace from the other side, meant to comfort and bring peace.

My friend, Mary, passed away last year, rather suddenly. She always loved dragonflies and was drawn to their vivid colors and flighty paths. She had dragonfly notepads, nightgowns, and tote bags. She adored all things ‘dragonfly.’

Mary 5

Try as I might, I am not convinced that every dragonfly I photograph is Mary. “Hold still, little beauty,” I whisper to them. “Let me take your picture.” I know Mary would have loved my photos and might even have asked for a framed one for her walls. While I do not feel that these dragonflies are Mary, I do believe that it is her spirit that beckons me to seek the beauty in nature, urging me to take time to enjoy God’s creations.

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We recently put up a new hummingbird feeder in our backyard. I made the nectar and as we hung it I fully expected hummingbirds by dusk. Two weeks later my little friend arrived. Flighty, thirsty, and perfect, although not flashy in color like the butterfly or dragonfly. Every day she drinks the nectar and then flits to an adjacent branch to hang out for a bit, then over to a flowering plant, then back to the feeder. Then, without warning, she flies away until another time.

Hummingbirds are the smallest birds, yet they can travel up to 49 mph. Their heartbeats nearly 1200 beats per minute and they get their name because of the humming sound of their beating wings.

I feel like a hummingbird sometimes. My attention goes from details to musings. I flit from rigid routines to spontaneous creations, photography, or writing. My concentration varies. My observations bounce. When I’m dead and gone, will my daughters see a hummingbird and say, “ Oh, there goes Mom. She never could sit still.”?

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There are six large blue jays that visit our bird feeder every day. Occasionally they are raucous and loud, trying to dominate the backyard. I’d swear one of them is my Dad, just trying to get in the last word. Trying to control, even from beyond!

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It behooves me to wonder who would want to be remembered as a squirrel or pesky fly, but every family has one of each. Maybe our loved ones visit as birds or maybe a Higher Power nudges us to notice the beauty in nature, helping us to slow down and feel a connection. Whatever is true and whatever is your truth, enjoy the noticings and remember your loved ones from beyond. And if you receive a hummingbird feeder from me for Christmas, keep it. Someday, I may come for a visit.