Desert Heat

Dixie's Final Resting Place

Dixie’s Final Resting Place ©2013 Bo Mackison

a·ban·don

1 [uh-ban-duhn]

verb

1. to leave completely and finally; forsake utterly; desert.

2. to cast away, leave, or desert, as property or a child.

 

Abandoned in the Desert

Abandoned in the Desert ©2013 Bo Mackison

de·sert

 [dih-zurt]

verb

1. to leave (a person, place, etc.) without intending to return, especially in violation of a duty or promise. Synonyms: abandon, leave, quit; forsake.

 

Desert Heat

Desert Heat ©2013 Bo Mackison

des·ert

1 [dez-ert]

noun

1. a region so arid because of little rainfall that it supports only sparse and widely spaced vegetation or no vegetation at all.

2. any area in which few forms of life can exist because of lack of water, permanent frost, or absence of soil.

 

 

Abandoned Stove in the Desert

Abandoned Range in the Desert ©2013 Bo Mackison

range

[rnj]
noun

1. The act of wandering or roaming over a large area.

2. A stove with spaces for cooking a number of things at the same time.
Hot Stove in the Desert

Hot Stove in the Desert ©2013 Bo Mackison

 

heat

[heet]

noun

1. the state of a body perceived as having or generating a relatively high degree of warmth.

2. the condition or quality of being hot: the heat of an oven.

3. the degree of hotness; temperature

verb
4. to become hot or warm

 

I first photographed these abandoned ranges/ovens/stoves scattered about the grounds of the Post Picket House, a historical but unmaintained property that’s part of the Boyce Thompson Arboretum near Globe, Arizona. Ovens abandoned in the desert. Really, who needs an oven in the desert?

The good folks in the Southwest describe their temperature highs with the disclaimer that it’s a dry heat, as if that negates the fact that is it nearly as hot as Hades. In my mind, when heat is described as “dry as an oven” it is still hot. Really, no matter what words you use, lingering temps over 100˚F deserve the descriptor HOT. If you’re not convinced, you could always poke  your head in a hot oven for a second or two — not advised though.

So…is the interior temperature of an oven abandoned in a desert as accurate as an oven abandoned elsewhere? I would presume so, considering age and condition of said abandoned ovens.

Disclaimer: Obviously, the prolonged high humidity and temperatures in the Midwest — though NOT dry like an oven — is responsible for the lucidity of this post. A week with temps over 90˚ and brains begin to soften around the edges…

~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.   She is awaiting a break in the weather. Or not.

 

No Trespassing

Beach Scene

Sand Grasses © 2013 Bo Mackison

Sand dunes.
Protected.
No trespassing.

A ragged, twisted, never-ending fence
lines the sandy beach. Trapped
between the Atlantic’s cold waves
and brittle fencing. This is shadow land
cross-hatched, undulating zigzags
etch the sun-baked sand.

Waves in cadence, rush and roar,
past the beyond, murmur in melancholy.

Driftwood weathers silver-gray, a rotting
crab snags in the jagged fork. A purple jellyfish
upside down, adheres to a protruding stone–
will it rehydrate in high tide or disintegrate
in the blistery sun?

Two women walk near the waves,
an elder protected by a red straw boater,
carnival striped blouse, her daughter’s arm.
She steps with deliberation, settling into each step.
Her eyes seek the horizon,
she knows the strength of the tide
swelling near her canvas shoes. The sea holds her gaze
until the daughter grips her elbow, guides her inland.

The waves tumble in, the winds rush through beach grasses
and trees, tangle our hair, blow sand in our eyes.
We swallow grit. Our arms protect
our faces as we hasten along the path in search of the car.

The distant air is effervescent,
like a gauzy veil, one cannot peer through.
It is future, always hidden.

————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She strolled the beaches of Long Island and recalled the lyrics of a favorite song . . . “the ocean is a desert with its life underground.”

 

A Tree, a Nest, a Dream

Tree of Life ©2013 Bo Mackison

Animal Kingdom’s Tree of Life © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Without leaps of imagination or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all is a form of planning.”   ~ Gloria Steinem

It was only a few weeks ago that I spent time at Disney World with my two daughters. While there, I visited Animal Kingdom for the first time, and I saw the centerpiece of the park, a re-creation of a huge Baobab tree. The tree has over 350 animal had sculpted in its concrete bark. The leaves were individually crafted in five colors, all 103,000 of them. It was quite the tree, even if it was born of a man’s creative vision.

We didn’t spend time near the tree, and though I admired it from afar, it wasn’t until I returned to Wisconsin that my interest in this unusual Baobab heightened. I researched the history of the tree, and discovered that this particular tree is called the “Tree of Life”.

I was curious, because this tree, or actually a variation of it, appeared in a recent dream. It was one of those infrequent dreams for which I had complete recall (or so I believe) and I wrote it in detail in my journal. Now I find myself frequently replaying the dream sequence in my mind. I think it’s an interesting dream, and important, too.

And so I’m sharing…

Tree of Life - with Animal Carvings

Tree of Life – with Animal Carvings © 2013 Bo Mackison

This is my dream: I am in a nest at the top of a tree similar to the Tree of Life, so high that my nest — large and very comfy, and woven out of a soft, gauzy material resembling bubble wrap — seems to barely touch the leaves. At first I am able to lean over the nest — it is about waist-high — and see the carved animals on the tree. The animals are alive and friendly, and communicate through facial movements and eye contact. I most remember speaking to a hawk that is very near the nest.

It is a sunny day. I can see an infinite ocean from one side of the nest; the other side overlooks a deep forest, far below, just the tree tops are visible. I am alone, except for one visitor — a very large, very dark raven that has intense, emerald-green eyes.

The raven keeps coming to the nest. He circles the nest, darting about, then pecks at my head while I try to protect myself with my arms. Finally he snatches a single hair from my head and flies away. He does this repeatedly. I am fearful when the raven pecks at me and pulls my hair, but after he disappears from sight, I feel very alone and wonder if he will return.

This happens a dozen times or so. All the while, the skies gradually darken as evening approaches. Then I notice several things. The nest shape shifts and it is now very deep. I can no longer see over the sides nor communicate with the animals on the tree. I can’t see the ocean or the forest. I can only see the darkening sky. A few stars appear, and then the night sky flickers above me. I am in complete darkness except for the far away stars.

Tree of Life - with Animal Carvings

Animal Carvings © 2013 Bo Mackison

Then the raven returns. This time, he flies towards the nest from high above me, soaring in circles, drawing closer and closer. He carries a light. When he is very near, I notice his claws have turned into the hands of a human. In his hands he carries a crystal globe about the size of a large softball. The raven hovers over my nest and gently places the crystal ball into my open hands. Then he soars away.

I hold the globe – it is perfectly spherical and glowing brightly. When I look into the globe, I see a sun as it brightly illuminates the nest, my surroundings, and me.

—————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She explores wherever she travels. And occasionally her travel experiences follow her home and appear in her dreams. She still marvels at the idea of holding a crystal ball filled with sunlight.

Tuba Reflection – A Self Portrait

Self Portrait in Tuba Reflection

Tuba Reflection – Self Portrait ©2013 Bo Mackison

We keep on moving forward, opening new doors and doing new things because we are curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths. ~ Walt Disney

 

The Main Street Philharmonic Marching Band.
Cardinal-red band uniforms, gold epaulets,
Shakos with white plumes.

A blue sky-fluffy cloud kind of day.
A tarnished tuba.
Sousa’s Fairest of the Fair.

Fantasy Land.
Where dreams come true, but still require hard work.

There’s always a new path to follow.
Explorations and adventures.

Take a photograph of the silver tuba,
and the photographer and her camera
shine in the reflection.

————–

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Magical photos happen in magical places.

Epcot Adventures

Fluttering Above Epcot

Fluttering Above Epcot © 2013 Bo Mackison

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them. ~ Walt Disney

I’m on my way home after spending a week at Disney World, celebrating birthdays and family. Disney World isn’t exactly my type of habitat. Deserts and prairies are more my style. But I have to admit that a visit exploring the Magic Kingdom, Epcot, and Animal Kingdom is an eye-opening experience.

I kept imagining the working mind of Walt Disney as he created the first Disneyland in 1954. His idea of having a theme park with five different lands – Main Street, Fantasy Land, Adventure Land, Tomorrow Land, and Frontier Land — for families to enjoy and explore still has an amazing appeal.

A Florida Disneyland was a twinkle in Walt Disney’s eye when he died in 1966; his brother Roy completed the dream and Walt Disney World opened in 1971. There isn’t a space that doesn’t hold a bit of magic, a surprise, or a moment that makes one smile remembering the memories of the early world of Disney.

———–

Bo Mackison is a photographer. She is waiting in an airport, imagining all the creative projects awaiting her in her studio in Wisconsin.