Long Creek Falls

There’s something magical about the North Georgia Mountains. The color of fall’s leaves bring visitors to the Blue Ridge Georgia area in droves. And summers in the mountains offer a multitude of outdoor activities—kayaking, rafting, and hiking the Appalachian and Benton McKaye Trails to name a few. But this weekend, I had a chance to spend a winter weekend in Blue Ridge and photograph one of my favorite waterfalls.

Long Creek Falls is a short climb off of the Appalachian Trail in the Three Forks area, just a half-hour drive from Blue Ridge. For the past two years, north Georgia has endured a bad drought. But now record rainfall has filled the creeks and rivers, giving a new look to familiar waterfalls. Unfortunately, the mountains were above the clouds this past Saturday. A heavy fog hugged the trees, making the thick forest was very dark and ensuring that every shot was taken from a tripod, some as long as sixteen seconds.

Blue Ridge and Fannin County is a great place to visit and a wonderful jumping-off point for so many great outdoor adventures. And the quaintness of the small town is wonderfully understated. In my opinion, they do tourism right. Do yourself a favor and visit this great town and the mountains all around soon.

Brrrrrr. Is That a Technical Term?

Southerners don’t know what to do with ice. It’s just a fact. For a week and a half, it’s been cold. If I had three dogs, it would be time to pile them on the bed. It’s hard to complain about temperatures in the teens every night when it’s below zero in places like North Dakota. But doggone it, they’re used to it and they choose to stay. We’re not. There were snow flurries in Orlando, Florida over the weekend. That's just not right.

There’s a little-known series of waterfalls in the county where I live. I knew that days and days of temperatures in the teens and twenties overnight and highs barely above freezing would probably create accumulations of ice. Today, I took the time to drive out and see what I could find. Sure enough, spray from the waterfalls had made some amazing formations of icicles, sheets of slick ice, and heavy coatings on branches and rocks.

It was too dark for handholding much--the camera, that is. And with a coating of ice on most of the rocks, footing was treacherous. At least once, my feet went out from under me, leaving me desperately trying to fall gracefully while holding a Nikon overhead. I figured I’d heal faster than the camera.

I got some interesting shots. Unfortunately, many of the places I wanted to go were too icy and dangerous to reach without risking life, limb, and camera. Even when I could find a place to stand, the tripod simply wouldn't sit still on uneven rocks covered in an inch of ice. I’m a little jealous of those photographers who get to shoot icy waterfalls often. But not enough to move there. Serious winter has visited for far too long.

Ironically, I found out tonight that my parent's cat died yesterday. He broke through the ice on their pond and disappeared under the water. My Dad saw it happen and tried to reach him, but it was too late. I spent all of last winter wishing for spring. Guess I'm still there. Damn ice. Damn winter.

Happy New Year

Another year has passed by—2009 is gone—and I can’t say I miss it much. If you often frequent Through My Eyes, you probably noticed my conspicuous absence. Hopefully someone noticed anyway. Not totally without joy, the last year was nonetheless complicated, stressful, and busy. And December seemed worse. I found little time for photography for me or for blogging and even less mood for Christmas.

Even as a child, I had a hard time finding “the Christmas spirit”. Three decades ago, the commercial clutter of the holidays left me burned out on Christmas long before December 25th arrived. There was a time when the Sears and Roebuck’s Christmas Toy Catalog brought great joy and hours of excitedly studying its pages, but before long, I realized that for much of the world, Christmas cheer was way too connected to the jingle of cash registers. Pretty pessimistic for a kid, huh? Well, I can’t say I’m any better as a forty-year-old.

Our church, Riverside UMC in Macon, has a three-night drive-thru nativity complete with multiple scenes and lots of live farm animals. On a recent December Saturday night, I stood in a cold rain, acting out one part of the original Christmas trio. Dressed as Joseph, I watched over a rubber and plastic baby Jesus, as a cold, steady rain fell. A Duraflame log struggled to burn in front of us as a steady stream of cars passed by our Bethlehem. In the darkness and relative quiet, it was easy to imagine what that first Christmas might have been like. Aside from the fire, there was no central heat. There were no street lights. There were no doctors or delivery nurses. No microwave to warm the Chinese take-out. And there was no crowd and no fanfare. The son of God, who would bring change to the world unlike any other human, had crept into the world in a whisper.

So I suppose it’s no surprise that I find “Christmas” and "joy" in the quiet stillness. When the world is calm and asleep—when it’s dark enough that the stars are the only light—that’s where I hear and feel Christmas.

So for those of you who missed me in December, I’m sorry. My 2010 resolution is to find more of those quiet moments—I don’t have to wait until December to find them. And to find more time for photography, for writing, and for me. For art—for sanity. And I might even find some time for post-Christmas shopping. Who knows… I bet I can find a great deal on ShamWows, Snuggies, and Tiger Woods Golf for the Wii.

Happy New Year everyone.