bofday

the missing posts of yester-month...

i spent my birthday outside of comfort, texas on the ranch with my dad and lucy. the three day trip was extended to five so i could shoot the Big XII game in san antonio the following saturday (thanks boss!).

i'd been missing my folks and the hillcountry. it was rejuvenating to reconnect with both.

my dad took me on a motorcycle adventure out to enchanted rock. i still think of all the ways i could die riding on the back of that thing, but the views and smells are stunning.



the hike up the rock was shorter than i ever remember. as a kid it seemed like hours before reaching the top. it's the first place i ever heard the word "false summit", and the first place my body recognized what that meant.



as a teen i'd go camping with friends at the base and spend the day wandering around the granite uplift, in and out of the cave, scaring tour groups of school kids with voices from the shadows.



we'd bring our penniless teen version of a high class picnic to the summit. peaches, salami, crackers, a 2-gallon jug of 7-UP or the occasional bottle of cheap wine. we'd divvy out the goods and watch the sky or the sunset. we brought a kite once that lasted a whole 5 minutes before being whipped off by a gust of wind. most of the time we would explore the tiny tide pools of rainwater looking for signs of life. and all the time talking, joking, telling stories.

the hike was quick this time. 20 minutes on adult legs. i sat at the top and had a long talk with my dad looking up into the blue winter sky.

i miss the big group outings to e-rock. i get nostalgic for the time when so many friends lived so close and we had endless hours to explore. the rock is always the same but the experience will be different every time.

and my dad will always be a dork, but that's why i love him.



winter fields along the river road.



i like to think the farmer used the beer bottle to space the wires, ummm, yeah.



i can't wait to take a nap on this rock some summertime. the stretch of river beneath the cabin has cut a deeper channel since the last time i swam in it, which was more like sitting in it. it might be cannonball depth. sweet.



annual birthday self-portrait. sometimes this feel like a self-indulgent bit of navel gazing, but if i can't do that on my own damn birthday, then when can i? most of the time it takes me an hour to get comfortable being in front of my own camera, to stop trying to project what i'm feeling and just be. it's an annual reminder of what i request of others, often strangers, everyday. but that's the PR reason i do it every year. it's just something i do.