Professor J's Place

My  mother was a single mom with three girls. She worked hard, but without any support from my father or any other family members, money was hard to come by. So when the weekend rolled around we would load up the cooler with Shasta pop (at .5 a can), hard boiled eggs, boiled hot dogs, and potato salad. And we'd drive out to a park. Usually, we'd head out to Garner State Park in the Texas Hill Country. I know you readers from outside of Texas hear us talk about the Hill Country like it's God's back yard. And it is. But it might be hard for you to see. It is not lush and thick with trees like the wonderful woods in Georgia and the Carolinas. The hills are not majestic like the mountains of Colorado or magical like the hills of Kentucky.  Our trees are slightly gray in color; even the old trees seem more like shrubs than the wonder that is the woods of Northern California. But we are pulled here.  I think it is the psychology of sparseness. I think it is the shor...

The other day, Tanith and I decided to use my new lighting system to take some pictures of the black girls. Bessie                   Bessie and Judy                                                                             Judy This, of course, made the other girls jealous, so more of them later.

Tanith, Susan, and I went for a walk today. I took seventy-one pictures, but I'm only going to share a few--for now. The smell of cedar was overpowering. Not only were there many cedar trees in the park, but the park workers were spreading fresh cedar mulch over all of the paths. The moth on these flowers would not open her wings--no matter how much I begged. More sweet little flowers. And here's a little guy who is fertilizing all those sweet little flowers.

My mother died in February of 2004. I got a full time job at my alma mater shortly after that, and I know how much she would have enjoyed being a part of that transition. One day, I was walking on campus and I came across a beautiful sight at one of the streams. I thought, "Oh, Mom would love this. I have to come back with my camera and take a picture so she can see it." I knew right away how crazy that sounded. Indeed, I refrained from going back with a camera (something I'll always regret). But that was the beginning of a thought pattern that has become familiar to me. And shortly after that, I began to take pictures for Mamma. This is actually a picture I took for her while she was alive. She loved West Texas and Big Bend national park in particular, and I knew this scene would thrill her. I guess I've been doing this all of my life--taking pictures of things that make me think of her--documenting my journeys for her. Mamma always wanted to travel in the Southwest-...

I took this photo last Saturday at Enchanted Rock, but it fits my mood today. This Christmas I bought a nice camera for myself--I decided I really wanted to explore the artistic side of my nature, and I thought a camera was a good place to start. I've really enjoyed playing with it.