garden

Photography
Garden of Candlelight
October 8, 2017
Garden of Candlelight

I’m not a fan of weddings, but every once in a while we have to attend one just to be polite. That happened last week. I didn’t so much mind attending the wedding but the fact that with Kat and the kids in the wedding party I was rather stuck wandering around the venue on my own. Fortunately, when we went for rehearsal I discovered that the garden was full of candelabra. Some were designed for tea lights, which makes sense, but others used large white candles, the kind that slowly melts all over the place. Even better, the wax drips had not been bothered. No one had wiped anything off. Rather,  they just let gravity do its thing and the results were absolutely wonderful.

So, when we arrived two hours early for the wedding, I filled my time going around the gardens taking pictures of all the candles, among other things. The only challenge was a bright, full sun that cast some wicked shadows at times and at others cast a backlight across the white wax that resulted in a strange halo where the wax was most thin.

We rendered the photos in a very careful LAB monochrome, trying to make the most of the shadows. Trying to bring the highlights under control was a challenge since sunlight bounced off the white wax rather dramatically. Having a diffuser would have helped but I didn’t think to take one. Even using a really high f-stop (f18-f20) wasn’t always enough to keep the highlights in check.

With a bit of work, we ended up with 17 reasonable issues. Some are strong enough we might just make prints available for sale. If we do, I’ll post messages to Facebook. Be sure to follow us there if you’re not already doing so.

In the end, this wedding wasn’t nearly as bad as some. The bride looked lovely, of course, and the groom looked happy and reasonably sober. Sucks that I can’t have cake anymore, but getting some cool pictures almost makes up for that.

Almost.

As always, click on one of the thumbnails to view the full-size gallery.

[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”11533″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]

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pop culture  /  PotD
Weekend Of No Regrets
April 18, 2016

The water cooler conversation in every job I’ve had is sports, it’s what did you do this weekend, it’s ‘How are your parents doing?’ —Kal Penn

 

charles i. letbetter - weekend with no regrets

Don’t let social media guilt you into thinking you had a bad weekend. It was just fine.

Nope, I didn’t attend Coachella this weekend. Chances are pretty high you didn’t, either. Sorry, but if I have a spare $1,500 I’m not likely to spend it on tickets to a music festival at some polo club in Indio, California. I don’t really care who was there. I don’t give a damn what they were wearing or which pseudocelebrity’s nipple ring showed through her top (yeah, I would have thought pseudocelebrity was hyphenated but my editor insists that it’s not). I didn’t attend a major league baseball game, or even an NBA playoff. I didn’t go to the movies. I didn’t even watch Netflix. I didn’t do any of the things my newsfeed is trying to convince me I missed over the weekend.

Do I have any regrets? Not a one. I would hope that you don’t, either. While the celebrities and movie stars flaunt the fact they don’t have anything better to do with their time or their money, but want to make sure you see them anyway, we were hanging out here in Indiana, of all places, quietly having a good weekend, building memories, doing things that actually yield a positive result and build a stronger community.

One of the downsides of social media is seeing what everyone else is doing. Pictures of friends and celebrities in far off exotic places or on vacation, can cause us to feel that our normal, everyday, sometimes less-than-thrilling lives are somehow incomplete because we’re not doing any of the really “cool” stuff. We may be jealous. We may feel depressed. We might think that our lives are incomplete.

You know better. You’ve always known better. You know as well as I do that chasing frivolous things just for the attention ends up being shallow. You don’t need me to pull out the dozens of sociological studies that show we’re at our happiest when we’re spending time with friends and family, or just relaxing and reading a book. You don’t need me to remind you that our lives feel better and more fulfilled when we completely unplug from all forms of media every once in a while. Yet, when all those pictures start popping up in Facebook and on Instagram, we still get those twinges of guilt that perhaps we didn’t do enough, or didn’t do the most cool things.

What did we do this weekend? We had Long’s donuts for breakfast. We tilled the garden and started getting it ready to plant. There was a huge piece of shrubbery that has been bugging us, so Kat’s dad came over and helped rip that monster from the ground. We celebrated a couple of birthdays. Kat gave her sister a scalp massage. The kids made new friends, managed to get absolutely filthy more than once, made their own pizzas, and enjoyed having birthday cake. Bubbles were blown. Laundry was washed, folded, and put away. Kat came to the rescue of a friend with a baby sitting need and I spent some time Skyping with my 18-year-old. Somehow, we managed to find time in there to buy groceries, write four articles, and Kat was at the salon from open to close on Sunday.

Each and every one of the things we did holds more value than getting sunburned while standing in the middle of a field trying to listen to a band that you can’t even see. We were productive, we got some rest, and we spent time with people who are genuinely important to our lives.

We don’t have to travel hundreds of miles and pretend to be something we’re not in order to have a good weekend. Neither do you. We had a good weekend. No regrets. I’m willing to bet yours was just as wonderful. Drop the guilt and enjoy the memories.

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Art  /  PotD
Shadows of Yesterday
October 31, 2015
charles i. letbetter - shadows of yesterday

charles i. letbetter - shadows of yesterday

Autumn Illusion – Shadows of Yesterday

A fresh mind keeps the body fresh. Take in the ideas of the day, drain off those of yesterday. As to the morrow, time enough to consider it when it becomes today.—Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]We’re done; the last day of October is here, cool, wet, and cloudy. I like it when months end on a Saturday and the new ones begin on Sunday. There is, for me, a sense of completeness in that small detail, as though the months have been packaged with a touch more neatness than usual. Yesterday’s worries and toils are placed in a mental scrapbook. Time for us to move on.

Our garden is now completely gone. I walked through it the last time yesterday and it seems even the pepper plants have finally given up. This year’s garden was immensely better than the year before, but we already have ideas for how we want to improve. For starters, we’ll be much more careful about where we plant those crazy squash plants, and we’ll give the tomatoes a better dose of sun. Hopes. Dreams.

Leaves that were beautifully decorating the neighbor’s tree have not only fallen, but the wind has kindly blown them all over into our yard. Our giant tree has yet to let go of its cover, but will likely do so with the next frost. I’m not one who is inclined to rake; the ground needs the nourishment that comes from the decaying leaves. Yesterday’s beauty becomes the mulch for tomorrow’s growth.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Sometime this next week we will till under the garden and prepare the ground for winter. We’ll spread some straw, maybe put down some black plastic to discourage weed growth. We remember that whole patch was just lawn yesterday, or so it seems. Building on our success means taking care to not let the challenges of another season take over while we’re distracted by the snow.

All the work, all the produce, all the joy and disappointment are now shadows of yesterday. We have pictures. We have memories. “Who can forget” moments, such as letting the little ones help squish tomatoes for marinara, remain firm in our hearts. Our garden produced more than food, it fueled opportunities to teach, to care, and to love. Who can ask more from a garden?

Now, we move on. Try new things, or perhaps different ways of doing the same thing. I pulled  my heavy coat from the closet, checked the pockets for wayward cash and found none. We’ll discuss whether buying a new shovel will scare off the snow. Furniture and camera catalogs arrived to fuel dreams. Goodbye to yesterday and the illusions of autumn, hello tomorrow. Enjoy today.[/one_half_last]

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Art  /  PotD
A Different Spice
October 27, 2015
charles i. letbetter - a different spice

charles i. letbetter - a different spice

Autumn Illusion – A Different Spice

Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I’m taking with me when I go.—Erma Bombeck

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There’s not much left to our garden. Long vines and huge leaves from winter squash plants have all withered and died, leaving behind a strange, other-worldly array of expired tentacles grasping at the dirt. Beans just disappeared. Cucumber plants shriveled to nothing. Zucchini plants that were once four feet in diameter are now reduced to tiny mounds of memory. The color is gone. A huge square of gray dirt dominates our lawn, looking more like a disappointment rather than the glorious success it was a couple of months ago.

Kat has taken most the spice clippings inside. We’ll have more than enough oregano, thyme, and basil to get us through the winter. All that remains are a few tomatoes that refuse to give up, and one very stubborn habanero plant. Habanero isn’t really a spice, though that’s the side of the garden on which it was planted; it’s one of the hottest peppers in the world, several times more than jalapeno. Kat wanted to try it. To my knowledge, she attempted to eat one.

Spice did well in the garden this year, for the most part. I’m not sure what happened to the lavender, but everything else on that side of the garden grew exceptionally well. Bell peppers and sweet peppers came in a little late for some reason, but once they started they were abundant. That one habanero plant, though, started early and there are still three small ones on the vine. We won’t pick them; there’s no reason to bother. They’re just too hot.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Spice and peppers are a lot different when they’re fresh versus what one buys in the store. By the time anything makes it to the local grocery, it has had time to mellow a bit, having been picked early so it wouldn’t spoil too soon. Organic spice has a slightly more pungent flavor as well, and we definitely went the organic route with everything. Spice packets in my freezer are pungent and it doesn’t take much to flavor a sauce or a soup to the point the entire house is full of the fragrance.

Those habaneros were just too much, though, which is saying something. Kat enjoys a lot of spice and heat in her food, much more than my old intestinal digestive system can tolerate. She’s one of those people who put hot sauce on hot sauce, leaving everyone else to wonder how she’s not breathing fire. These peppers were too much. Just cutting one open made my throat hurt.

I know that saying about variety and spice and having plenty of spice in one’s life is definitely a good thing. Life is full of choices and to the extent one is curious there is no reason to not to experiment, try different blends, see what works and what doesn’t. Life is not meant to be bland, but full of flavor. When autumn comes, however, some things are best left to die on the vine; another illusion allowed to pass.[/one_half_last]

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