A movie, hope, a soaring bird and joy

Larry and I saw the movie “Gravity” this weekend. This post is not a review of the movie, and I won’t include any spoilers for those of you who haven’t seen the movie but want to see it.

I will say that it profoundly affected both of us.

We talked about it later. I asked Larry what he thought the meaning of the movie was. He thought about it and said, “Don’t lose hope.”

I agreed.

And, I added, my favorite line was when Sandra Bullock’s character said something to the effect that she may live or she may die, but either way, it was going to be one hell of a ride.

Her statement was a strong one, especially since she had, up to that point in the movie, been hiding from life, not quite wanting to die, not quite wanting to live.

This movie reminded me that whatever life handed me, I wanted to live with hope and joy. To live fully and die gracefully.

So that’s the movie part of this post. The soaring bird? I saw him on Sunday. I went out into the yard to get some photos. I haven’t meandered around like that in nature since we lost Sam almost two weeks ago.

The temperature was perfect, the sky was blue, the sun was bright. We still have a lot of green left on the trees, but I saw some changes in the leaves.

When I take photos, I try to remind myself to look up, look down, turn around and look behind me—see the different perspectives.

I looked up and saw a large bird sailing through the sky.

I lost sight of it, but then when I was filling up the bird bath, a shadow crossed over me. I looked up and saw the bird again. Then another.

I thought I was seeing a pair of hawks, though I realized later they were vultures.

I snapped photo after photo. I walked around with my neck bent backwards, focused on the sky, trying to follow the lovely path of these birds.

The birds, the sky, the sun, the trees—they are all so much bigger than me. Nature is so much bigger than me. God is so much bigger than me.

It all pooled together: the movie, the hope, the bird, the joy.

I wanted to cry from that joy.

What is something that has given you joy lately? And if you’ve seen “Gravity,” what did you think of it?

Finding wildlife with a camera, or—Please don’t fly away!

Sunday was very hot and humid. Most days lately have been like that, the same kind of weather that many of you have experienced.

But I’m not complaining. I’m setting the scene.

Around noon, Larry asked me to come out into the backyard to check the position of the frame for the raised bed garden we’re putting in. He had put together the basic frame and while it was still moveable, he wanted to make sure I agreed with where he placed it.

I admittedly dragged my feet. Like I said, it was hot and humid. But I grabbed my camera and went out with him. I wanted to capture some shots of the frame and continue my documentation of our new project.

I noticed the bird bath was dry, so I filled it up from the outside spigot. I hung around, hoping to see some birds, but it remained empty.

Until I went inside.

“Tina, there’s a bird in the bath,” called Larry from the porch.

I picked up my camera and hurried out the back door onto the enclosed back porch, then out the screen door to the yard.

I walked as carefully as I could and got as close as I could.

The bird flew away.

The bird came back.

I snapped some pictures.

The bird flew away.

The bird came back. Another bird joined him.

One flew away. Then the other flew away.

“They can see you standing there,” said Larry.

He went to the porch and dragged out two chairs for us to use to sit in the shade and watch. I captured some more shots.

But I admit I was hot. Sweat was running into my eyes. My nose started to itch with allergies. The birds were staying away. They even left the tree above us.

So we went in.

I put away my camera.

I looked out the living room window. A bird was in the bath, splashing away.

I got my camera and tried to quietly walk out again. By the time I got to the middle of the yard, the bird was gone.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

I stood there, thinking that if I was very still, the birds would think I was part of the landscape and come back.

It sure was hot.

Larry came back out, laughing.

“The birds are texting the cats, and the cats are rolling on the floor laughing,” he said. “The birds are telling them, doesn’t your mom know we can see her?”

(Note: Yes, our cats have cell phones. We’ve never actually seen them. But the cats seem to know everything that goes on. They must have something.)

I went back inside. Sat down with a bottle of water to cool off. Looked out the window. A bird was back.

This time I sneaked out the side door and walked around the house. Once again, I could only get so close and get off a few photos before they flew off.

I need a longer lens. I need to be stealthier. I need a birdfeeder.

On the stealthy side, my cats said they will teach me what they can.

Meanwhile, I suspect the birds are still talking about me. And laughing.

And as a side note, Sunday was a bad day for me with depression. I was feeling hopeless and down. But my backyard nature antics made me feel better. Yes, nature is one of my treatments.

Any suggestions on how to capture wildlife with a camera?