Poems for November and a few more leaf prints

November Night

by Adelaide Crapsey

Listen…
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.

Autumn Movement

by Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things
come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,
not one lasts.

Related post: Leaf prints

A week ago today…

on our final day with our friends in Madison, Wisconsin, we took one last round of photos:

I posed for Rosita’s Portrait of a Feminist project:

We picked Noah up from school and headed to the airport:

My brother Teddy met us for dinner at the airport in Minneapolis, where we we had a longish layover:

Another airport, another “chonom” video:

Thanks for showing us around your new hometown, friends. Until we meet again! xoxo

You can find my friend Rosita’s blog “on being American, Asian and adopted” here.

Athena

In which I demonstrate through a series of images that I never know when to stop:

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Praying Mantis

She is a predator. She stalks her prey with stealth and ruthless cunning. Once she has set her sights on her victim, (often smaller members of her own species), resistance is futile. She will bite the head off a victim who struggles, even that of her own mate.

So unrelenting is she, that she can even get a praying mantis to crack a smile:

IMG_5696

“She always captures her prey!”

And speaking of praying mantises, check out this little one in training:

Have a wonderful, wonderful weekend!

Fenwick Island

I went to Fenwick Island on a mission. A few years ago we went to the Outer Banks with my dear friend Rosita and her family. One day Rosita took this picture of us:

Cliché thought it may be, I loved the white/khaki look. I loved that late afternoon light. I was determined to recreate the photo at Fenwick Island. I made sure to pack white and khaki outfits for everyone. The day before we were going to leave at the end of our vacation, I announced that it was time for our photo session. I made everyone get into their designated photo togs, some of them newly-bought just for the occasion. We wasted precious daylight as Teddy searched unsuccessfully for his khaki shorts.  (The following week my sister emailed me to say that they had mistakenly gotten mixed in with her boys’ shorts). I admit it: I was insufferable. I stormed around looking for the shorts and making my son look for the shorts and even seriously considered making him wear a pair of women’s khaki shorts until my sister ripped them out of my hands and said, “NO.”  I finally, huffily conceded that navy shorts would have to do. We went out onto the beach and my daughter immediately got a piece of sand in her eye. Through tears she insisted that she couldn’t open her eyes.  And because I am a horrible, horrible human being, I heard myself saying absolutely outrageous things like, “Try not to cry for just one second! Just open your eyes and pretend not to cry on the count of three!” Truly, I had become unhinged…and I totally got what I deserved:

I did manage to get some better ones throughout the week. Here are some of my favorites:

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Intersection

I remember as a child idly gazing out the car window at an intersection as we waited for the light to change. Suddenly, I had the startling revelation that the cars flanking ours were not merely a part of the passing landscape, but vessels containing people who were in the midst of a life as vivid and complex and important to them as my own was to me. Even more astonishing to me was the thought that to them, I was as inconsequential as they had been to me only moments before.

I’ve been reliving that experience with my new macro lens. A whole kingdom of living beings that are normally insignificant, and even invisible to me have suddenly become the focus of my attention. Through my macro lens I experience the shock of seeing miniature life and death dramas playing out as if on a big screen. I see eyeballs staring up at me, hairy legs, luxurious bumblebee fur, delicate antennae…The macro lens bridges our separate worlds, making it so that the insects and I are fellow travelers at an intersection, waiting for the light to change.

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Chronic Chroniclers

My friend Rosita and I are both chronic chroniclers…

I love that you can see us both with our cameras aimed at our sons in this shadow photo…

Occasionally, our subjects tire of the relentless flashbulbs:

But the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree:

Here’s Nicholas recording his FaceTime conversation with his little sister.

Next week: More photos, of course! Until then – have a wonderful weekend!

How My Mommy Saved Me…

As you may have noticed if you’ve been reading along, I take my camera everywhere I go. So naturally, when I drove my mom to the Korean grocery store, I brought a camera to record some of the sights. If you haven’t already, please do look at yesterday’s post. I risked my life for those pictures!

Everything was going swimmingly until we reached the housewares section. As I started taking pictures of the pretty and colorful dishes, an agitated ajumma* in an H Mart vest came scurrying towards me, chattering away like an angry squirrel. I don’t understand Korean, but I could tell that for some reason my picture-taking was making her nervous. I pretended not to notice and kept shooting away, but visions of a wrestling match in the aisles of H Mart were flitting dangerously in my head. From the corner of my eye, I could see my mother shuffling over in paaaaainfully slooooooow motion to join the fray. I was sure the ajumma was about to leap onto my back and take me down with a choke hold, when my mother finally intercepted her.  Was my mom going to whack her with her cane? Was I going to be in a three-way rumble with this ajumma and my aged and venerable mother right there in the middle of the housewares aisle of H Mart? I kept expecting to hear the resounding “thwack” of my mom’s cane, but instead I heard her fend off the woman with a few words in Korean spoken in a mild tone of voice. Suddenly the murderous gleam in the ajumma‘s eyes died out. Her shoulders relaxed. She gazed upon me benignly, and…was I imagining it? perhaps pityingly?

As we drove home, I asked my mom what she had said to disarm the ajumma.

“Oh, I just told her you were a country bumpkin and that you had come to visit me in the big city and were soooo excited about all the sights, so you had to take lots and lots of pictures of everything.”

Ummm…Thanks, Mommy.

*ajumma: a Korean woman who is middle-aged or older. In order to qualify as a true ajumma, she must also have a bad home perm, known in Korean as a “pama.”

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H Mart, a photo essay

Animal:

Vegetable:

Mineral:

Tofu aisle:

Kimchi aisle:

Banchan aisle:

Tomorrow: why I almost got kicked out of the store and how my mother saved me from that ignominy!