fledge capable of flying, from Middle English flegge, from Old English -flycge; akin to Old High German flucki capable of flying,
Old English flEogan to fly -- more at FLY
intransitive verb, of a young bird : to acquire the feathers necessary for flight or independent activity

Friday, June 29, 2012

Maternal Beings

While down in the Arts District one morning, I ran into a muralist at work. Damon Martin is exploring a certain "Razzle Dazzle" style, reminiscent of razzle dazzle camouflage. Razzle dazzle is contrasting colors and geometric shapes, which, while doing little to really hide a vessel, does play visual tricks with the enemy, making it difficult to estimate the type, speed and heading of the razzle dazzled craft. Zebras have employed this technique for millenia, as well. The zebra's savanna neighbor, the elephant, has no such camouflage. Although a nice neutral grey, elephants are just big. Really big. Really big targets. About as easy to hit with a rifle as, well, the side of this building.


At the risk of anthropomorphizing these noble creatures, elephants have been observed expressing what can only be described as real emotion: Tremendous communal joy at the birth of a baby elephant, days of grief at a death, happiness and excitement at family reunions, and compassion when a calf is born prematurely. Elephants also exhibit rage: Charging villages, destroying crops and endangering people, without, it appears, immediate provocation. Anger exhibited by the matriarch will manifest in rage in the entire herd. ("Happy mother, happy home" - you've heard that, right? Probably experienced it as well, ne c'est pas?) Some researchers believe elephants are experiencing a "species-wide" rage, a traumatic stress disorder resulting from decades of killing, habitat loss and climate change. Mr. Martin has painted this mural some 9,000 miles from the nearest wild elephant in the hopes of bringing attention to the plight of our earthly co-citizens.

Elephants are also immensely maternal. Baby elephants are tiny compared to their mothers and walk underneath them--remarkably without ever getting stepped on. Mother and child remain in constant touch, the calf grasping the mother's tail and the mother continually caressing the calf with her trunk. Bonds between mother and daughter elephants have been observed to last well over 50 years. Speaking of which, this here is Damon Martin's mother: 75 years old, sitting on the hard concrete in the hot Los Angeles sun, doing touch-up work. Perhaps elephants are not the only ones to form long and strong maternal bonds.


See PBS Nature for more information.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Between, Be Tween

Eleven. I know, right? She's eleven.

Just when I thought I was pretty good at being a parent to little kids...they grow up.

She didn't want anything this year, except a party. A trampoline party. And a limo. And a park. Eleven: Somewhere between little kid and big kid. Between trampolines and stretch limos and climbing trees. Which is a great place to be!



Happy Birthday. Baby Girl. I love you so much.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Better than nothing!


Man. Sorry I haven't been blogging lately. What have you been up to. I've been up to photography quite a bit myself. I even photographed a wedding. Wed. Ding. My friend warned me not to. And I regretting saying yes the second it came out of my mouth. I don't have the gear...I don't know how to do those standard poses...I don't think I can... Then the couple said that my photographing the wedding would be better than nothing. I know there is better out there, but I will admit that my photography is better than nothing. So there went nothing! And it went pretty well, all in all. I messed up here and there I learned a lot. I think I would do it again.





And just check out this cheeky fellow....


Eyes up, friend, eyes up!


I've also been working on a couple of larger photography projects. And it is better than nothing. Occasionally, a lot better than nothing. More on that later!

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Ain't no thing.

My go-to lens is a f2.8 70-200. I've had it three+ years and, if I look at my EXIF data, yup, that sucker has been on the front of my camera more often than not. Today, my tripod tipped over. My tripod tipped over! Tripods don't tip over. That's why they are tripods!

The suspension in the laws of physics and geometry in that brief moment has resulted in one f2.8 70-200 laying in two pieces. I cried. It is just a thing. And I shouldn't cry over a thing. But I need this thing! I need this thing this week! I really, really like this thing. I miss this thing. Such a nice thing. Such a good, good thing.

Can you believe, not one hour after my lens falls to the ground, a piece of driftwood fell off the mantle and broke my favorite vase? Poltergeists! There simply is no other explanation.

I took some pix this week of a young couple. Young love. There are so many folks out there who take, much, much, much, much better engagement photos than me. So I shouldn't really post these like they are super awesomeness. I'm just mourning my lens. Such a nice lens.





LA Boy

LA Boy by boosegumps
LA Boy, a photo by boosegumps on Flickr.
He's being promoted to high school.

I'm so amazed by you, son. Such a joy to watch you become the person you are going to be.
"Blue Steel"

Not so amazing is your "willingness" to let me photograph you wearing your handsome shirt. "Blue Steel." I'll take what I can get.


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