The Best Views are the Hidden Ones

Posted on by

Photo #646: Small WaterfallLocation Taken: Ontario, Canada
Time Taken: June 2010

Random waterfalls are the best waterfalls.

If you’re going to a waterfall deliberately, you obviously have a clue what to expect. Otherwise, well, you wouldn’t be going there. It might be larger than you expected, or noisier, or surrounded by interesting things, but much of the thrill of discovery is still missing.

The little waterfalls, though, the ones that are so small that no one puts up signs pointing you towards them, those still have that thrill.

When I’m riding in a car going through the mountains, I’ll often stare out the window, peering intently into every dip and ravine we pass, looking for that silver trickle of water. And every time I spot one, it’s such a treat. Especially when it’s a brief glimpse of a truly gorgeous set of falls tucked into a ravine right by a highway. In some ways, it feels like a view meant just for me.

After all, if you’re driving, you’re looking at the road and the cars around you, and if you’re not, well, these days you’re likely playing on your phone. It can’t be more than a handful of people each day who stare out the window hoping for a second-long view of a fairly small waterfall.

Or perhaps it’s just me.

  

A Guiding Light along the Shore

Posted on by

Photo #645: Frankfort LighthouseLocation Taken: Frankfort, Michigan
Time Taken: May 2011

For a long time, there was a poster of the lighthouses of the Great Lakes hanging above the stairway in my home. It wasn’t framed, held up by nothing but tape, and it slowly curled up from small tears until it tore itself apart. But for the time it was there, I would frequently stop and look and search.

I’ve seen a number of the lighthouses along the shores of the lakes, the tall buildings on the shore warning ships of where they where. There’s always something eye-catching about them. For obvious reasons, they’re put in the most prominant spots, where the land curls around, where the harbors are found, both the places ships must avoid and those they want to find. They’re tall, so the light can be seen further than otherwise, and they’re frequently painted either bright white or in an intriguing pattern.

This particular one is bright white, but it’s also at the mouth of a harbor, and thus just providing a guiding light rather than a warning one. Ships missing this one is not quite as perilous. It’s built out on a long pier, built as a breakwater, smoothing the waves near shore to ease ships in and out of the bay.

I’ve seen this lighthouse many times, but I think I have only walked out on the pier perhaps once, and that long ago. For much of the year, the waves are too strong or too cold, and frequently cover the pier in thick layers of ice during the long winter months. And when I visit in the summer, I am far more likely to walk along the beach than out on the pier.

I am not even certain it is still accessible to the public. Many things have limited their access since I was young, and this may be one of them.

Or perhaps it is still open, and one day I shall walk out along the concrete once more, and marvel at the height of the lighthouse.

  

Sunrise is Nature’s Way of Saying “Go to Bed!”, Right?

Posted on by

Photo #643: Mountain SunriseLocation Taken: Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Time Taken: October 2012

Sometimes normal human patterns just look so weird, ya know?

Here I am at my Grandparent’s place, and well, as soon as Grandma heads to bed a bit before midnight, so does everyone else. Except me.

Well, there are a few people who will occasionally stay up a little later, but not tonight. Tonight it went from everyone up and doing things to everyone in bed with the lights off in something like 10 minutes. Except me. I’m still up at 1:30 am, randomly browsing the internet and half-watching the TV. Oh, and writing this post. But I’m still nowhere near tired enough to sleep, and I sleep so exceedingly poorly if I try to go to bed when I’m not tired that it’s better for me to wait until my body will let me sleep.

It really does feel like there is some hidden signal that tells everyone to do the same thing at the same time, and I didn’t hear it. Which is actually exactly what it is. It is so awkward to be missing a basic instinct like the circadian rhythm…

At home, I spend most of my time alone in my room, isolated from the odd behaviors of these strange human beasts, but here life is lived in a normal diurnal pattern and there’s nowhere I can hide away. It does mean that the people who aren’t used to my patterns look at me with disapproval at my odd sleeping times. Ah, the joys of social stigma for being different. At least I’m quite used to dealing with that.

I’m also quite used to tempering my own activities to be considerate of the sleeping people around me. Which, alas, is rarely returned in kind when they wake up and I’m still solidly asleep…

  

A Bucketful of Snow and Shows

Posted on by

Photo #642: Snow BucketLocation Taken: Arcadia, Michigan
Time Taken: January 2011

It was a lovely Christmas.

There’s a foot or three of snow outside, and more in the air. Alas, it’s a little too cold for good packing snow, or else I’d go out there and make some sort of, I dunno, snow beast or building or what not.

I got zero presents, though I did open a group present, so at least I got to unwrap something.

The local deer herd was wandering around hunting for stray birdseed dropped by the large flock of blue jays that my Grandma keeps well fed. The dogs were barking at them on and off.

And I’ve spent the day watching Doctor Who. Most of yesterday, too. And it was awesome. I just finished watching the Christmas Special. For the second time today. And it was even more awesome the second time around.

So yeah, lovely Christmas.