No More Three-By-Fives

Hoping I would see the world with both my eyes

Seems like the drearier our Humboldt weather is, the more enthusiastically the interwebs explode when the sky is airbrushed with a glorious rainbow, jaw-dropping sunset or wondrous sunrise.  If you follow Twitter or Facebook or Instagram, your feed is painted the fanciful shades of a blue-gray sky brushed by the sun with pinks and oranges.  Whether with the ubiquitous smart phone or a billion-dollar DSLR, we struggle to get THE photo, the one everyone sees and “sighs…” and shares with the rest of the digital universe.  But sometimes I just can’t get THE photo.

The fabulous sunrises we have been blessed with this season, while visible and awe-inspiring, are impossible to commit to digital “film” from my house without the web of powerlines that cross the sky.  Try as I might to use those black lines in an artistic way, they just undermine all of my efforts to record the perfect sky. The houses don’t darken enough to be the perfect silhouettes.  I pull off at the Humboldt Hill vista point to catch the view on the way to work, but the sun’s effect was hidden behind the trees.  I pulled to the rear of the parking lot at South Bay Elementary School south of town but, by then, the sun has climbed beyond a point where the clouds were the fiery orange they had been just fifteen minutes before.   

Today I finally overcame

Trying to fit the world inside a picture frame

Well, I probably didn’t really OVERCOME the urge, but have come to the realization that sometimes I need to just stop.  And enjoy.  Without the camera…..and, like this John Mayer song, trying to enjoy it with BOTH my eyes.  

Oh, it won’t be easy.  I’ll still dodge through traffic after work, trying desperately to get to the perfect spot to photograph that stunning sunset I can see from the highway during my evening commute.  Or I’ll text the boss from the ‘T’ on the north spit, to let him know I’ll be a bit late while I try and capture the red rubber ball of a moon as it sets in the morning.  But sometimes, when those things don’t look promising, I will just sit and enjoy those few fabulous moments.  With both my eyes.

In A New York Minute, Everything Can Change

Oh how I wish I left work just a moment earlier. Instead of that one...last...thing.... Even so, as I headed home from campus, I could see the glow in the western sky. I had been warned all day by the flashing red of my Weather Channel desktop, alerting me to the heavy surf (and the "recommend you stay away from the beach" admonishments...HA!).

The spit is so FAR. It's so close I can SEE it but so far away when you want to BE there. I have to drive north to drive south again. Not sure I'll make it but I'll try. Traffic is in my favor as I go around the golf course and through town. Turning on to 255, towards the Samoa peninsula, I can see I'm not alone. I'm not the only one heading that direction, taunted by the warm glow in the winter sky. Not the only one for whom those "High Surf Advisories" is an invitation. Driving over the bridges, I sneak quick glances to see the enormous orange ball. Dropping. Too fast! Slow DOWN! Wait for me PLEASE!

As I sit at the stop sign waiting for the seemingly endless line of (four) cars to pass, I stow my purse and pull the straps on my shoes. No time to make it to the far end, to the harbor mouth where the final drop would surely be most spectacular. I pull into the parking lot at Samoa Beach, finding a spot easily, tear off my shoes and grab my camera. The howling wind convinces me to grab the raincoat I had taken this morning. I run. Through the cold sand, over the rise, JUST in time. The ball has dropped halfway into the water. The heavy surf roars but I'm sure there must be a loud sizzle as the cold water quenches the sun. I can't draw my eyes away from the orange sphere slowly.....slipping....

..under. The few of us at the beach watch the sky change from orange to dark, muddy blue. No doubt others were farther up the beach - this is a show not to be missed. We wrap our coats around our bodies, breathe deep. And head home. Lord I love this place!