Celebrating with Golden Poppies

Gold Poppies

Golden Poppies © 2012 Bo Mackison

Happy Valentines Day!  My love to Sherpa — 36 years you’ve been a special part of my life.

Happy Centennial to Arizona!  Arizona became the 48th State 100 years ago today! And the golden poppies are in bloom — celebrating!

Happy Birthday to my son!  Something about the bright colors of these poppies remind me of my special guy — he brings a smile and good cheer wherever he goes.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Wishing all a Happy Valentines Day.

A Roadrunner for Joanne

Backyard Roadrunner

Backyard Roadrunner © 2012 Bo Mackison

 “Now then, I can easily understand why it should puzzle you that a person of my intelligence, I.Q. 207 super genius, should devote his valuable time chasing this ridiculous road runner, this bird that appears to be so skinny, scrawny, stringy, unappetizing, anemic, ugly and misbegotten. Ah, but how little you know about road runners. Actually, the road runner is to the taste buds of a coyote, what caviar, champagne, filet mignon and chocolate fudge are to the taste buds of a man.” Wile E. Coyote

Last year, when I wrote about seeing roadrunners in my Arizona backyard, Joanne Keevers left a comment and said she wanted to see what a roadrunner looked like since there were no roadrunners in Australia, and would I please take a photograph if I got the chance. Well, it’s taken me almost a year to see a roadrunner within camera range, and even this guy nearly escaped without me getting a photo. You can tell he is running away from me as I snap his portrait.

Funny thing, before I reached for my camera, he walked to within ten feet of me and then stared at me, almost cocking his head as if to say, “You want something, lady?” Even while I had my camera in hand, checking the settings, he stood quite still. But as soon as I lifted the camera to my eye and began pressing the shutter, he took off at a brisk pace.

He did not run. He merely walked off in a bit of a hurry. I don’t think road runners do much running, but they are quick of movement. They are one of the few creatures that can kill a rattlesnake.

So, Joanne, here is a roadrunner photo for you — with best wishes to you from Arizona to Australia.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She enjoys watching the variety of birds in her backyard arroyo. And once in a while, she even gets a bird photo!

 

Nature’s Abstract

Nature's Abstract

Nature's Abstract © 2012 Bo Mackison

A photographer sees the world through a filter. Not the interchangeable filters for lenses, but the filter in the photographer’s mind through which an unfolding scene is seen as a photograph. ~ Bo Mackison

Pincushion cacti are rather small cacti. Globular, lots of protruding, sharply hewn spines. Almost easy to pass by in the search for the giant saguaro, the prickly pear with its oval sculptural pads, the ocotillo waving green branches with the tips turning red with flowers.

Then I saw these little groups of pincushions. I liked how they were bunched together in little pods of three or five, and since my camera was ready on my tripod,  I took a few photos.

Later in the studio, I enlarged the photo  — and wow, it was no longer a simple little cactus. I’m studying the desert, letting in the immensity of the place while still focusing on and  absorbing the tiny spaces. There were sure some tiny spaces in between the spines of this not-a-friend-of seamstresses pincushion. I sure loved it, though.

Spaces — this is an entangled pattern of tiny spaces, tiny bits of shadow and light from the cactus spines.

How do I look at these spaces? Seeking? Searching?

Turn the spaces into words through metaphor? Struggle with the concept of spaces with danger or limitations? Give thanks for the infinite variety of spaces and places? Celebrate life and the wholeness of the world, place by place, and tiny space by tiny space?

Do you examine spaces? What thoughts come to mind when you observe the many complexities of tiny spaces such as these cacti?

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She is exploring the Sonoran Desert and examining the smallest of spaces while allowing in big thoughts.

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Early Morning Coffee in the Desert

Early Morning Coffee in the Desert

Early Morning Coffee in the Desert © 2012 Bo Mackison

Coffee is real good when you drink it it gives you time to think. It’s a lot more than just a drink; it’s something happening. Not as in hip, but like an event, a place to be, but not like a location, but like somewhere within yourself. It gives you time, but not actual hours or minutes, but a chance to be, like be yourself, and have a second cup. ~ Gertrude Stein

A pitcher of water, a container of ground coffee, a backpacker’s stove with a little fuel canister and a French press coffee cup. That’s a lot of equipment but I find it all to be incredibly important. With the above contraptions and about five minutes of my time, a simply perfect cup of coffee can be had.

I think it a necessary morning ritual after one sleeps in a car wrapped in a sleeping bag with only nose and mouth exposed to air (while ignoring any claustrophobic tendencies.) One should be able to take that first hike at dawn with a full cup of hot coffee for companionship!

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She is exploring the Sonoran desert and making desert coffee.

Desert Twilight

Sonoran Desert Twilight

Sonoran Desert Twilight

Seeing form with the whole body and mind.
Hearing sound with the whole body and mind.
One understands it intimately.
~ Eihen Dogen

When I am in the desert, I have two responsibilities — to listen, to see.

I watch as nature busies herself doing the quiet things not easily seen, sometimes only sensed. A lizard scooting from under a cooling rock. Cactus wrens darting from their nest holes in the saguaros to the top of the cactus, on alert, the look-out. Then swooping about, catching an insect or two, and a return to the nest inside the huge saguaro.

A pack of coyotes sing. A second pack joins, in harmony. Silence. Then the who-ooo of an owl. I hear it, I never see a twitch of movement.

I am content, also, to hear the sound of silence. Silence has a sound. I feel surrounded by the desert, as if she has a hold on me. The desert wakens all my senses — sacred senses.

Now is the time to remember that all you do is sacred. ~ Hafiz

I stayed in the desert overnight. There was no roughing it for me. My days of primitive camping ended decades ago. This time I had my car, a sleeping bag rated warm enough to keep me comfortable in the desert night. (The low reached 38˚F — not too cold.)  I had a backpacker stove and a French press coffee cup. I had coffee and soup in a box for dinner and granola and fruit for breakfast and lots of bottled water. I had a lantern. I had the necessities. I also had my iPad, a last minute addition to my camp gear. I was set. Luxury camping.

When I woke up at 4 AM and couldn’t fall back to sleep, I sat in the car and read The Turquoise Ledge by Leslie Marmon Silko on my iPad. Now that is really desert camping in luxury. I didn’t wait the first touch of daylight to make my coffee. The sun rises late in the desert — I don’t know why — and I got cold. I finally maneuvered in the dark and heated water and made my first cup of coffee by the yellowish-orange hazy lights of Tucson reflecting off the clouds.

By the time it was light enough to follow a trail and not walk into the desert plants, I was dressed in layers and had my hiking stick and coffee cup in hand. I followed a trail along an arroyo and was quite pleased to be out in the desert, alone, at dawn — until a pack of coyotes ran across the trail twenty feet from where I stood.

Once I got my heart out of my throat and back into my chest where it belonged, I turned around and hiked back to camp. All those sacred senses were on alert.

But it was a great explore.

My first overnight camping trip in the desert.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She is exploring the Sonoran desert.