Sunday, January 18, 2015

Hi everyone,

We had some warmer weather here and I actually hooked up Itsy and Ginger and went on a walk.

This is one of the first things I saw.

“What is it?” you ask.

This is the fruit of a passion flower. Passion flowers grow on vines and this vine wound himself up a sumac tree. As the vine died and the fruit dried, this one draped himself over a branch. Critters, especially deer love passion fruit so I seldom find any ripe ones let alone one that has reached this stage. It was just too high for the critters to get to. So there it hangs.

Do you think, if I could get this, that I could plant my own passion flowers?

I snapped photos of bittersweet…

…but the fruit is withering and the colors aren’t as vibrant.

A sycamore tree with it’s fruit hanging like ornaments on a Christmas tree caught my attention for a little while.

　
　

Dried pods…

Bubbles trapped in a thin skim of ice.

What is that? I wonder as my eye catches a flash of fluorescent green. I turn my camera to the spot and zoom in. Oh. With the water level being low, I see it is the nock of an arrow sticking up from the bottom of the pond. Did someone try to shoot a fish? A duck?

My rule is if it catches my attention, I photograph it.

Then I hear it.

I hear an airplane. He was flying lower than most of them do and he was making some beautiful contrails. The only way I could keep him in my auto focus was to keep the tree in the foreground.

 

All of these photos, with the exception of the arrow, graced my desktop this week with the airplane being the current one.

Our walk continued up the hill from the pond and as I emerged onto the lower portion of the Strip I knew immediately that I had picked the wrong time of day to be walking on the side of the road that didn’t have a sidewalk!

“Holy talk-about-traffic, Batman!” to paraphrase Robin.

So there I am, in my jacket, Itsy tucked inside, camera around my neck, doggie-poopy bag slung on my shoulder when car after car goes zooming past. I’m afraid for Ginger. She doesn’t like to be on a short leash but she sometimes darts into the road. I’d have to shorten it and try to get her to walk on the other side of me-the side away from traffic. I put the brakes on her retractable leash and she immediately tries to pull away. She knows how far away from me she has to be in order not to be stepped on. And I don’t blame her. But she almost ended up in front of a car. I pulled and got her on the other side of me and she was very obedient as she trotted along until I could get us into a parking lot and put more space between us and the traffic.

Talk about withering fruit! The Bradford pear trees that line the lower portion of the Strip still have fruit hanging on them. I’m not really into photographing withering fruit, but I was killing time until the traffic lightened up and I could cross to the sidewalk side of the street. So I thought I would snap a few photos.

Yeah. Dried up fruit. Not all that attractive, you know what I mean? Maybe the stems will look like a starburst, I think as I continue to shoot and the traffic continues to stream by. Then the school buses start zipping past and-doggone it!- they were going to ruin my shot. Oh, wait. Maybe I could have a yellow starburst if I time the shot just right.

All things being equal, my height, the height of the school bus verses distance and angle and my beautiful yellow starburst photo turned into a photo of dried fruit stems and bus window.

Across the road from me is the Trapp Building. I heard it has recently been sold and a normally quiet stretch of the Strip is a beehive of activity. There are worker trucks parked in the spaces in front of the building and workers are going in and out. I hated to cross there and get in their way.

I don’t know what made me decide to do that anyway, I wish I could say it was the Little Miss Attitude in me saying, “You have a right to use the sidewalk too.”

But I don’t know if that is what it was or not.

I wish I could say it was the Lois Lane in me saying, “I smell a story here, Clark.”

But I don’t know if that is what it was or not either.

The facts are, I crossed the road. I get to the other side and I see these guys working down on The Lake (Lake of the Ozarks). I stepped up to the rail and snapped a few photos as I tried to figure out what they were trying to do.

Ginger barks and strains at the leash and I turn to see three Carhartt clad workers coming down the sidewalk towards us. I think one of them is a woman.

“How ya’doin’?” the lead guy says.

“Great!” I exclaim and Ginger is barking the whole time. I spy, out the corner of my eye, words on the side of the truck he was headed for. Security. It looked very official. “This is my protection,” I said to him. “Ginger. Stop.” I said to her.

He laughed. “Yeah. I’m scared,” he said but he didn’t look all that scared. His hands were in his pockets, one came out-reaching for the handle of the truck door; door opening…

“Can I take your picture?” I blurted out, raising my camera. Is it wrong to snap pictures before they say I can or not?

He turned and smiled for me, “Sure.”

“What is it you do?” I asked.

“Well, usually the police call us in to secure a property after a fire or a burglary. What’s this for? The newspaper?”

My recent attempts to get a column with the local paper flashed before my minds eye. I laughed. “Yeah. I wish! That’s my dream job.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” he asked me.

“I tried, but my stories are too ‘cutesy and fun’ for the local paper.”

“I guarantee you that there is a paper somewhere that will publish you.”

My mother has told me the very same thing. In fact, she went so far as to send me the address of her local newspaper. The truth is, my stories are too cutesy and fun for a serious news newspaper, but I have flirted with the idea of submitting something to Reader’s Digest and I told him so.

“You should do it,” he said pointing at me. You know what I mean? Not all getting-up-in-your-face-and-shaking-your-finger kind of thing your mother used to do. More like I’m there for you man! Supportive, I got your back, kind of gesture and nod that conveys confidence.

It’s funny how whole conversations are like pictures in my head. I pulled out the picture of Momma asking, “Do you read the Reader’s Digest?”

No, but I’d love to have them pay me for my stories.

More contemporary and something that I do read is every single post posted on FaceBook by a page called HONY. That’s an acronym for Humans Of New York. Truly inspiring photos and quotes of people that a guy named Brandon meets in New York City.

“Have you ever seen HONY?” I asked.

“Yeah…”

“That’s what I want to do, only bigger. Humans Of Lake Ozark.”

“With the diversity of the people who come to the Strip, you would think the newspaper would want a column like that.”

This guy totally gets me. “I know! Right!” I exclaim and walk away.

Only, What’s the use? I ask myself. No one who doesn’t know me, wants to read my jibber-jabber. Heck, even half the people who do know me don’t want to read it!

“How can you say that, Peg?” you wonder. I know many of you read everything I write (and my mother tops that list) but none of you-no, not one of you, have asked about the two stories I wrote and never posted, let alone other stories that were in the works and henceforth canceled.

If you don’t care, who will?

Then without me wanting it…

Without my help at all…

In fact even with me trying to do everything I can to avoid it, a story finds me.

“Just do it!”

 

 

Maybe I should, I think as I’m walking away. You didn’t get his name or a picture of his truck or anything! And I kick myself. I’m such a slow thinker! Doggone it! Was it too late?

I turned and looked.

They were leaving. They’re probably going the other way. I dared not hope. But providence gave me a second chance! They were coming up the Strip towards me…traffic had lightened up…I’d risk it! I stuck my arm out and pointed at them. A window was rolled down and the truck slowed. I barely glanced at the two passengers as I focused on the driver. “HEY!! What’s your name?” I yelled as I took a couple of steps toward them.

Cars were starting to come up behind him.

“JIM!” he calls.

I start to back up towards the sidewalk and I hear him yell, “Let me give you one of my cards…” I see him cocking his hip to get his wallet out of his back pants pocket. There were two cars stopped behind them…now three! I ran up to the window and took the card that had been handed across to me.

Another car stopped.

I head back to the sidewalk and he yells something as the motor revs and the truck pulls away. I only caught a word or two. Just enough to give me the impression that he wants to see what I write or maybe what I write about him.

I think about this as I go up the street. I wasn’t going to write about him. He’d have a long wait.

A woman coming towards me.

“How much weight have you lost?” I ask.

“Seventeen pounds,” she says.

“Can I take your picture?” I asked and raised my camera. I got this picture of this beautiful woman with a beautiful smile on a beautiful face on a beautiful day and it would be a shame not to share it with you.

That seals the deal. I may be feeling defeated but regardless, I feel the need to do this. But what will I call my page?

Humans of Lake Ozark? HOLO for short. No, I know! How about POLO! People Of Lake Ozark! But what if I’m not at Lake Ozark? HIM flashes through my mind. Humans I Meet? And screw Lake Ozark?

What do you think?

More stories, no more room.

Lots and lots of love,

Peg and Mike