Perfect for summer, don’t you think?

Apps used: Popsicolor, Image Blender, Handy Photo, Aquarella HD, decim8

And I have discovered a faithful hiking companion as well, in our dog Zoey.

I haven’t written that much about her since we adopted her in February, but she has slid right into our family and taken her place in our lives and our hearts as if she has always been here. She is the most happily enthusiastic dog I have ever met. She does everything with all of her self — body and heart. It’s kind of hard to describe, but everyone who meets her can sense it, and they fall in love with her too. She holds nothing back.

I came up with the nickname “Gung Ho Zoe” for her. It just fits.

I was telling my husband this weekend that I can’t imagine not having her in our family. I remember how against getting a dog I had been. Too expensive, all the food and vet stuff. Too much trouble when we travel. Too much fur, making our house dirty.

But the real reason? Too much hurt in my heart. Our faithful companions have shorter lives than ours, and love also means loss and hurt. I hadn’t wanted to replace my dear dog Tasha.

Getting Zoey has reminded me what it’s like to be on the love side again. To realize I didn’t replace Tasha, I added Zoey. It reminded me that it’s all worthwhile…. The fur and the vet bills and the kennel. It’s all worth it, to have this fun and faithful dog in our home.

The next time I am at the point of deciding whether to open my heart to something, I’m going to remember the philosophy of Zoey. I’m going to ask myself, “What would Zoey do?”

Without hesitation, she would be all in.

If you’re like me, wasted effort is something I like to avoid. There is nothing worse than doing a lot of work to find it’s gone no where.

And yet…

I’ve had to revise that thought in my creative world. One of the things I love about mobile photography is that I can experiment. I throw out the rules and have no goals. Or if I have a goal, I’m willing to let the goal fall by the wayside if it’s not working. Often, I come up with nothing good. Downright horrific stuff. But sometimes things comes together, and it’s magical.

This flower is the result of a lot of experimentation. Trying to get an iPhone shot from below led to tons of thrown away files. But I got one. Even that one was a bit of a disaster, with my head partially in the frame. But it was enough to play with the processing. The end is not anywhere close to what I had in mind when I started. I saw some possibilities along the way and decided to let them flow. I love it.

So it makes me come back to this idea of wasted effort, and whether it really is something to avoid as fastidiously as I’ve always seemed to. If you learn something out of it, is any effort really wasted? Maybe in the end result, effort feels wasted when I’ve tried five different things until I finally got to something that worked. Why didn’t I start with this the first time, I might berate myself. But could I have gotten to the end result without the dead ends? Often, I think the answer is no.

The “wasted effort” is often really just learning. I have to go through it. It’s fodder for future creativity. It becomes the experience I can lean on in the future to get to a specific result, quicker.

I still think I want to be smart about where I’m putting my energy. Doing the same thing wrong the same way over and over again is probably not going to help me or anyone get very far. But if I’m not “wasting” some effort… running into some dead ends here and there… I wonder if I’m not playing it too safe. If everything is predictable, right the first time and wrapped up in a pretty bow, I’m probably not growing quite enough. That applies to my art and my engineering day job… pretty much everything in life.

As much as it pains me to say it, as much as it exhausts me to think about it after a week like this where I just want to curl up and read a good book, I know I want to be working right on that edge. I want to be pushing myself… because that’s when true creative breakthroughs and growth happen.

Things are really busy at work so I’ve been working extra hours, but I’ve still been creating and hiking. Just not as much time for blogging. It feels nice to do the things that are good for me, but I miss being here too. Hopefully I’ll be back with new insights soon!

Since we love to support his obsessions interests, we hooked up with a friend to take a “Young Eagle” flight, where pilots take kids for airplane rides to introduce them to flying. While we were out at the airport, we got permission to go take a look at the helicopter that had been doing training flights over our town all week.

The flight crew was getting ready to go out on a training flight and let us take a look at the inside. Brandon had lots of questions and after a few minutes of looking around the crew offered us a ride.

Our answer? An enthusiastic YES!

It was awesome. My first time in a helicopter. (Because really, how many of us have ever had the opportunity to ride in a helicopter?) It was a bit odd to lift straight off the ground. I also didn’t realize how close we would be to the ground — much closer than in an airplane.

Brandon and I made a short video (less than 3 minutes) combining his videography and my iPhone photography, that I’m excited to share with you today. You get to see a little bit of the scenery of the Coast Range and Willamette Valley around Corvallis, from a unique point of view.

We were ALL grinning ear-to-ear as we exited the helicopter. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; a perfect example of being in the right place at the right time. That, and the power of a cute and interested kid. We all agreed afterward that it was Brandon’s interest and enthusiasm that got us the invitation!

If you have a child and live in the US, check out the Young Eagles website for opportunities to get him or her a plane ride.

Exploring my sister’s back yard, a spot of bright color caught my eye. In the berm leading up the mountainside away from her yard, there was one lone poppy blooming. I climbed the steep hill and balanced precariously, trying to capture the flower while the breeze shifted it this way and that. After finally capturing a good image — nicely framed, in focus, without my shadow in it — I sat down in the Colorado sunshine and proceeded to mess it up, transforming it into something new. Something that expresses more than the original photograph. Something that gets to the essence of the poppy, instead of the poppy itself.

Later I was passing the image around the table, sharing with my family. It’s an interesting thing to share in person rather than on the internet. On the internet, people can quietly ignore something they don’t like. You only really hear from those who DO like it. So seeing someone view my work in person as it was passed around the table, I could tell if they liked it or not. I got the unfiltered responses.

I discovered that not everyone likes the new direction my work is taking. I discovered they were surprised by the abstract nature of the art I enjoy creating. I discovered that these changes, which seem obvious and natural to me, are not obvious or even explicable to those who are dearest to me.

It does make sense… They haven’t been around me on a regular basis for a long time. They didn’t see me in the museums of Europe, discovering my attraction to colorful abstract art. They didn’t see me falling in love with Vasily Kandinsky, Mark Rothko or Paul Delaunay. They haven’t seen my playing around with paints and trying to capture the emotion of pure color and movement on a canvas. All they saw was the photographs. And now all they see is this dramatic transition of the art I share, because I’ve finally found the medium that combines my love of photography and abstraction in one place.

Yeah, I can see how that would be surprising.

Another thing that I discovered, as I found out they don’t all like this new direction of my work, is that I don’t care. I love what I am creating now. I am confident and comfortable with it as my own personal expression. I am comfortable with the idea that others won’t like it. Some don’t like it because it’s perceived as easy: “All you do is push buttons in software, and that’s just wrong.” Some don’t like it because they prefer the more literal interpretation of a photograph, and don’t think it needs to be transformed in any way. They liked my old style better.

That’s ok, because I don’t create for anyone else, I create for me. Some people will connect with it, some people won’t. That’s just the way art works. I don’t have to be hemmed in by anyone else’s rules and opinions.

And one final discovery out of all of this… it doesn’t mean they love me or I love them any less. My work is an expression of me, but it is not me.

That’s just as important to realize, I think.

We were sitting at my nephew’s graduation party with my aunt and uncle. The party was going to end soon and we had the rest of the afternoon free. After some debate between my brother and uncle of where to go, I had them both talked into the idea.

It was a gorgeous spring day. Perfect Colorado-blue skies and comfortable in summer clothes even at 9000 feet. The aspens were gorgeous with their new-leaf green and the mountains in the distance still had some snow.

We don’t have aspens in Oregon, and I miss them. There is something special about aspens. It may be the way the seem to shimmer as the light comes through their leaves.

Or maybe it’s the gentle rustling sound they make as the breeze dances through the tree tops. Or the seemingly endless white trunks reaching into that deep blue sky.

Or maybe it’s that there are the trees of my childhood forest. I camped with my family under these trees. Hiked with my friends. Saw the cycle of green to golden yellow to bare to new leaves again too many times to count.

Whatever the reason, aspen trees hold a special place in my heart.

It was a short hike, seeing as I didn’t have the right shoes and I’m not ready for serious hiking at high altitude. I’m a sea-level girl now, much as it pains me to admit it.

But no matter the length, it was time well spent. Seeing the Colorado forest again, so different from the forests of Oregon, was a joy. Enjoying the sunshine and moving my body, after all of the sitting of travel and graduation and parties, felt wonderful. And most of all, connecting to my brother and especially my uncle, who is usually very quiet and reserved at social events, in an environment we all love.

It doesn’t get better than this.

But I find myself pondering a few deeper things with my return home on Monday. It turns out this was not just a trip to see my nephew graduate, like I thought. This was a trip to look at the cycle of life; of endings and beginnings.

Here he is, Logan the high school graduate. With honors, I might add. Eighteen years ago this month, he was born. As it is for any graduate, this milestone is an ending of the life he’s known up to now, and a beginning of the next phase. College. Adulthood. There is so much in store for him.

Eighteen years ago this year, a few months after Logan was born, my Dad passed away suddenly. My brother Ryan was a senior in high school at the time, ready to go through his own endings and beginnings. But his cycle, all of our family’s cycle, was abruptly changed and redefined. As we laid my father to rest in the shadow of the mountains he so loved, we marked the ending of his life as well as a new beginning. It was the beginning of life without Dad.

In a couple of months, Ryan and his wife Darcy are expecting their first child. A little girl, they are naming Suvi. Another beginning, a new life to celebrate and love. (That’s my brother in the middle, and Darcy on the right, as our family waits for Logan’s graduation to start.)

I hope, eighteen years from now, to be at Suvi’s graduation, celebrating the cycle once again.

I must admit, after this trip I find myself wondering what endings and beginnings are in store for us, in the meantime.

In the chilly spring mist and rain, there is shelter here. The branches reach down to encircle and protect what’s below. The soft grass cushions the ground. The magical light filters through, bathing the scene in an otherworldly glow. I can stay here and be protected.

Hello, trees, I whisper, I’ve missed you. For me, you are hard to see when you put on your leaves. But this reminds me that your strength is still there beneath the summer finery.

And in addition to strength, you now offer shelter. Perhaps I need to sit beneath you for a while, and take what you offer.

The coming of the leaves has left me without one of my favorite subjects… bare trees. Oh, I haven’t missed them terribly. I love the sunny weather and the new growth of spring, so I’ve found many new things to photograph. Just not the trees, not quite as much. So it was kind of a surprise that a hike in inclement weather turned my eye back to the trees, revealing this month’s heart connection. It is kind of a surprise to realize that shelter is exactly what I need right now, as I try to remain in the space between. Shelter from my own self, if I’m truly honest, as my Photo-Heart Connection practice enables me to be.

How about you? What’s your Photo-Heart Connection this month? Share it with us, and then visit your neighbors in the link up. The connection to each other is as important as the connection to the heart.

And it’s the season of endings, as graduates finish up their schooling and move onto the next phase of life.

I’m off to Colorado today with my pink suitcase in tow, heading to attend my nephew’s high school graduation tomorrow and celebrations with my family over the weekend.

I’m a bit in shock that I have a nephew graduating. That my younger sister will have a kid in college next year. Oh my. So many of the people I know are well beyond this place, but it’s a threshold that, for my family, pushes my generation into a new phase of life. One with adult children and empty nests. I can’t quite wrap my head around it. I’m not ready for it.

But off I go… because it’s happening whether I’m ready or not. ‘Tis the season!

Oh, and don’t forget: The May Photo-Heart Connection link up will open on Saturday, June 1. That, at least, I am ready for!