Transition Into Light

While “transition into light” may sound a little deathly, it’s actually rebirthlier. Last Wednesday, on 09-09-09, we had to drive 9 hours through the high desert (our gas bill was $28.28). To save time, or so we mistakenly thought, we decided to post a visual blog instead (more photos, less talk).

To our surprise, the response was highly enthusiastic and in fact, we were encouraged to shift from Frida’s perspective to that of His and Hers. In a flash, the idea for “The Language of Light” was born.

What is photography but a reflection of light? In fact, photo is Greek for light, and quite literally, photography means “light writing.” Aaaah, writing in light, I love it!

Sometimes the most obvious is the last thing to be noticed.

Groom and I have been taking photographs for years, it’s just something we love to do. Yet it took several somebodies to point it out and it finally dawned on us, that perhaps doing what we love is the direction we should go.

You are witness to our new path.

Here are a few pictures from our week in Spud City, otherwise known to most of you as Boise, Idaho. We have been going there for the last 15 years to sell our jewelry at Art in the Park. As we’ve become quite fond of “The City of Trees,” there are several places we love visiting year after year.

On this expedition, we literally followed light and encountered some magic. We pulled over for an interesting looking Thrift Shop, connected to St. Michael’s Cathedral. The gothic bells were chiming and the two people we met, Mel and Yvette, were charming.

They heartily welcomed us and we were honored by a private tour of the Cathedral and sighed over an original Tiffany stained glass window (which we respected their request not to photograph) and Yvette humored me while I took a picture of her gorgeous tattooed arms in the columbarium. Mel made a special trip to the art show on Sunday to visit us.

After the Cathedral, we ate our annual lunch at Jim’s diner (chicken on the roof), wandered around downtown, visited Dragonfly and Eyes of the World.

We ate dinner at Barbacoa and had this lovely view from our deck-top table. I must apologize now to the vegans, for we participated in what the popular T-shirt laments… “Meat is murder. Tasty, tasty murder.”

When our entrée was served, I had a negative, visceral reaction. It looked like a death scene, the fig jam looking to me like the entrails of the poor little quail. I told Groom that the chef must have a wicked sense of humor.

The next evening, we channel surfed - a luxury - for we do not have cable at home. We stopped on the Food Network and to our horror, we were shown a restaurant where the chef was pleased with himself for creating an edible death scene. Perhaps our chef from the night before had already watched it. Whatever the case, I surprised myself for “reading” the plate before hearing about such a culinary endeavor.

The last four pictures were taken in Julia Davis Park, host to the art show. He in the sculpture garden; She in the rose garden.

While I’m not committing Frida to retirement, we are transitioning into The Language of Light.