the pondering pomegranate: OKI

photo by Mike

on our way to the beach this cool & breezy April day, my beach-loving older son questioned the appeal of the location in a season other than the height of summer heat and humidity. our family of four has generally limited beach visits to times when boogie boards, umbrellas, and frequent applications of sunscreen are a requirement; but, i grew up going to the beach in all four seasons. i, actually, prefer the beach in the more mild spring and autumn. especially the autumn, when the water is still warm from the summer sun but the air is not frying-pan hot.

practically before we actually greet each other, my family likes to start taking pictures. it all started with my paternal grandmother, really. i remember her long, slim 110 film camera, with the tall column of flashbulbs, pop-pop-popping away.

my entire extended family, if you are genetically related to my paternal grandmother, is superb at posing for photos. those who marry into the clan learn really quickly to grin & bear it. i like to think some of them learn to love it.

my first camera was a 110 with built-in flash, and the earliest photographs i took were at the beach. when i was in high school, i got a 35mm camera with zoom lens. &, on a whim, in eleventh grade, i entered a state-wide student photography contest. one photo i entered was a sunset on the sound, taken with my old 110 camera. the others i entered were taken with my bells-and-whistles 35mm. i think i even forgot that i had entered the thing, but i recall getting the notice at school (during my English class, where we were trudging through Faulkner's Light in August) that i had won first place with all four photographs i submitted - including the one taken on my little 110 camera.

these days, my old 35mm is tucked away, although i do have a stash of film in my desk. a little while back, i finally finished a roll of film that had been sitting in the camera for years. perhaps a combination of age (the film's, not mine), expectation, and habituation to the ephemeral quality of digital photography contributed, but the results were very disappointing. these days, i use a trusty little point-and-shoot digital camera, the battery compartment now held together with a purple rubberband (the kind that comes around your broccoli stalks). it is on my list to upgrade before our summer adventures, but this little camera serves me well.

Dad and Samuel

balancing act

photo by Mom

the cold front arrived the day we traveled, and in most pictures from that evening i resemble a fluffy, gray baby penguin. especially with the beach wind buffeting me about. but, here we are on the marsh side with a little bit of molting so you can see more than just the lower half of my face. why, hello!

it's all relative, but the next day

(at least for two teenage boys)

was sunny enough for

swim trunks, beach football, and wave-jumping.

i grew up playing a lot of games. car games, song games, board games, card games, brain games. the boys enjoyed learning (and, then, creating their own rules for) how to play beach handball with Grandpa and Nana. often the best games require the fewest props.

(a video follows, in case you are on a device that has trouble with that)

of course, one of the best things to do at a beach is to dig a really.big.hole.

and attempt to fill it with water.

a little perspective on exactly how warm it was

that day on the beach.

(actually, one of the goals of my own attire

was to avoid a sunburn.)

photo by Mom

charcoal squiggle art

my childhood experiential reference points for art and photography are from my paternal grandmother, who enjoyed prolific (albeit grainy) documentation with her little camera. & whenever i got to see her, i relished sitting right up against her side as she drew the ballet dancers, princesses, brides, and families (with lots and lots and lots of children) i adored. i was one of her last grandchildren, so she was running out of steam a little bit (and developing arthritis in her thumbs). but she continued to draw for me whenever i asked, putting her two years of art school to good use (at least for me).

Samuel

i wish i knew more of my maternal grandmother as an artist. which she was. in 1929, she opened her own photography studio up around Hamilton, Ohio. she married later in life, and swapped art for a husband and, eventually, two daughters. i have inherited her engagement rings. the first one, a soft pearl, is the one she wears in her engagement portrait; the second one, a diamond purchased after realizing the pearl could not withstand daily wear, my grandmother bought with her earnings from an oil painting of someone's saint bernard. after her death, this ring spent twenty years on my mother's hand. now it is on mine.

my parents both celebrated their seventieth birthdays

within the past twelve months.

here they are, about to head out on bike rides

with their very energetic grandsons.

Joseph & Grandpa

Nana & Samuel

photo by Mom

Joseph and Grandpa spied something on their bike ride

that we all returned to investigate.

it was something my parents hadn't seen in about five years.

and, really, didn't expect to see again.

here we are, watching and waiting.

photo by Mom

Joseph took a video, when he first found it.

this is what we were hoping to see.

SPLASH!

see it, we did!
Alligator mississippiensis

Joseph's beautiful photo of the alligator

among the lily pads ~

amazing to watch it steer with its tail.

such a prehistoric animal.

ah, brotherly love.

one evening, we went to the southern tip of the island,

where the sound meets the ocean.

my parents LOVE to watch the birds!

both my parents and the birds are worth watching.

i had to convince my mother

that i had not taken these photographs in black-and-white.

i took them in silver.

i was captivated by the bright green seaweed. and, also, that there were so many different kinds all along one section of the beach. the water was quite turbulent where the ocean and the sound collided, with big sprays of clapping waves out where the two currents met.