Was life ever that slow? Of watermelons and green apricots

Last week my family got a chance to slow down and watch some old movies together, one of which was based on William Saroyan's "The Human Comedy." It features Mickey Rooney and Carl "Alfalfa" Switzer of Little Rascals fame, set in mythical Ithaca, California, a small, sleepy town which I imagine would be in the wine country near Salinas.

In the movie, Rooney's character's brother is in the Army, fondly recalling with his buddies the features of his idyllic home town. Ah, to be in Ithaca...

It was a time of innocence, to be sure. In one telling scene, after two small illiterate boys take an awe-filled trip to the public library (there's a red book! there's a green one!), a gang of local boys dare to raid an old man's apricot tree. Led by a pubescent Switzer, the group of boys sneak through the old man's yard, dashing to hide behind bushes and farm implements, to approach the tree, daring each other to snatch a snack. (Little do they know the old man sees them coming and wishes he could ripen the fruit faster for them.)

Once the group has gathered under the tree, egging Switzer on, the old man appears and slams the screen door, and the boys scatter. Alfalfa--er, Switzer--refuses to skedaddle until he grabs at least one apricot, and the group is next seen scurrying back to Main Street.

There, in front of the drug store, the gang of miscreants gather round to see the prize. Switzer slowly opens his palm, revealing a marble-sized, green apricot.

"Ooh, ooooohhhh!" the appreciative boys murmur, struck with wonder at the courage and daring-do of their young leader.

Really? Was life EVER that simple? I was dumbstruck.

I asked my dad if such days ever really existed, and he reassured me that they did.

Once or twice when he was a young man, he began an oft-told tale, my dad dared to raid a watermelon patch near his Arkansas home. He and a carload of friends had stopped and climbed through the barbed wire fence and were scouring the patch for a ripe melon, when my dad joked that he saw "someone coming down from the house with a shotgun!"

The friends were back in the car in a flash, and the group was off with a couple of melons.

Another time (or two) the boys visited the patch to crack open a couple of melons, scooping out the juicy, seed-free heart and leaving the remains to rot.

Not long after that, the owner of the patch happened to stop by their home. "Say, boys, I have a watermelon patch up yonder and you're welcome to help yourself anytime."

Presumably, dad says, he knew about the boys' fruit habit all along and just wanted them to know he didn't mind.

Or maybe it was a bit of reverse psychology, because my dad says they never did raid that watermelon patch again.

Somehow it just wasn't the same.

Why the moon looked red during the eclipse

Last night’s lunar eclipse was stunning, and caught me totally by surprise.

Not that I didn’t know the rare event was happening. It’s just that I assumed it would be covered by the clouds that threatened and stormed all day. But as I got ready to slip between the covers, I thought I’d peek outside one last time to see if I could see the moon.

See it I did! By the time the eclipse was beginning, at about 11:15 p.m., scattered clouds scooted mostly out of view, so I stepped outside in my bathrobe and slippers and peeked heavenward.

Yikes! The full, white orb was directly overhead in my Sacramento neighborhood, covered three-quarters of the way with a rather brilliant reddish-orange overlay (a Photoshop term seems best in this case).

I dashed back inside to grab a camera, fit my longest lens, scrounge for a CF card, and ran back outside. My first few guesses at the exposure were off.

Evidently, the Sunny 16 rule works for a regular full moon, but not an eclipse. Hand-holding and bracing on the mailbox were not going to give me the stability I needed, either.

Back into the house I ran for a tripod. In the meantime, unfortunately, the eclipse progressed to fully cover the moon. But I did manage to get some steady shots of a fully darkened moon.

Upon later inspection, the rusty-brown surface looked quite like a basketball, minus the seams. It was an awesome sight.

I wondered what made the moon appear reddish-brown during the eclipse. According to one explanation by EarthSky, an organization that makes such scientific mysteries accessible to laypersons like me, the color of the moon is from light refracting off dust and clouds in Earth’s atmosphere. Were there no atmosphere, the moon would be totally black as you might expect.

I know a lot has been made of the fact that this total eclipse occurred on the date of the winter solstice, which evidently hasn’t happened since 1638.

Although I don’t believe the coincidence has any particular significance, it is easy to see how early civilizations might have freaked out when they saw the great night luminary turn red, like blood.

For those who missed this complete lunar eclipse, you can catch the show again in 2132. So you should have plenty of time to get your camera settings ready!

I'm a Social Media misfit

OK, I admit it. I'm guilty.

And I'm feeling it.

I've convinced myself of the importance of blogging and sending e-mails and Facebooking and Tweeting ... and then I rarely do it.

Alas, I'm doomed.

Or, am I?

Lately I've been getting a newsletter about simplifying life, slowing down and taking time to enjoy the simple things--called, appropriately enough, Rowdy Kittens. Now, doesn't that just make your smile? How can you get irritated at a kitten?

So I've been reexamining the guilt-trip I've had to keep up with all the So-Mo-Joneses out there (that's social media Joneses). Is hourly Tweeting, daily Facebooking, twice-weekly blogging and monthly e-mailing really necessary to build my client base?

Truth be told, it probably is. I realize that. And I'm gonna try.

I'm just not going to stress out about it. Life is short. If you don't take the time to look around once in a while, you might miss something (Ferris said).

So enjoy today. It's mid-November, the leaves are turning beautiful shades of scarlet and gold, and the sky is blue. And don't forget to tell me (comment below) what you did to make this day special.

When you know it's love...

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Darn barn swallows

For a couple of years now I've had a string of aluminum foil strips hanging above my front door, causing my friends to wonder what Eastern philosophy I've converted to.

I always laugh, explaining how the shiny metal is keeping the pesky birds from building their nest there.

That is, until this year.

A pair of barn swallows came back with a vengeance this spring, swooping and diving at the front entry, screeching their disapproval, daring the illicit metal tags to stop them from rebuilding their nest there. The chatter was pretty terrifying, actually.

After hearing the commotion for several days, I went out on the porch to see what was up, and there above our door sat two of the sweetest little birdies you could imagine. I was surprised to see them stay put while I examined them. Their little heads cocked; I asked what they were doing.

They held their ground. And I relented.

"OK, you can stay," I told them.

Immediately after that -- and not before -- the pair began depositing throatfuls of mud and straw, layer by bubbly layer, in the area surrounded by the foil strips. Soon bits of fluffy feathers lined the nest and I waited expectantly for the chirping of hungry babies.

Finally, after weeks of waiting and washing little poopies off my doorstep, we saw an egg. Cracked open on my doormat, that is. Soon another fell from the nest -- or was pushed out by a predator.

I am crestfallen. I had my camera all poised for a shot of hungry little mouths, opened wide, waiting for sustenance. But I got bupkiss.

Soon the "sweet" little birdies will be gone. And I'll be up on the ladder, scrubbing away all their hard work.

It's not that I'm a bird hater. Really. I just can't stand the heartbreak.

A photographic scavenger hunt

Kodak is sponsoring a contest this month that asks us to enter five specific photos each week during June. I've been having a bit of fun with it--looking for creative ways to fulfill the assignments.

Week 1 asked for a photo of a cupcake, so I called upon my daughter Mindi. (Poor thing, that's what she gets for living with me!)

Pretty yummy, huh? I like to call this one "Guilty Pleasures."

The face of determination

The Community Collaborative Charter School graduates celebrate reaching their goal.

I recently photographed the graduation ceremonies of two independent study schools. These kids have had to overcome disheartening odds to reach the stage this day, where their proud principals, school board members and teachers waited to award them their diplomas.

Many of these young people are foster kids, homeless, working full time, single parents ... to them, issues like who wore the same dress to prom really are kid stuff.

One young woman accepted her "overcomer" award with tears streaming down her face. She'd endured the exhaustion of working full time, with two small children, as she finished her requirements. Another young mother persisted until, on her eighth try, she finally passed the math portion of the high school exit exam.

Many were of above-average age: one of the teachers proudly pointed out the 22-year-old who came back to see him at the independent charter school after having dropped out -- again. He had a job offer, but the employer couldn't use him unless he had a diploma. His priorities clear, he finally completed his coursework.

Sitting among the audience, listening to the hubbub of the parents, friends and babies, I could tell that many of these youth would not repeat the scene among university compatriots. Nevertheless, this day would change their lives forever. They have at least tasted the satisfaction of completing a worthy goal. They know now that hard work does pay off.

They can do anything they set their minds to do. Congratulations, Class of 2010!