The Sites: Korean War Veterans Memorial

On my recent trip to DC, I took a day to visit each of the war memorials on the National Mall, beginning with the Korean War Veterans Memorial.

We arrived in the late morning amid a light drizzle, which cast a shadowy light across the space; I can only imagine how hauntingly beautiful this must be in the silence of a thick morning fog.

Nestled near the reflecting pool and the Lincoln Memorial, the space is thoughtful and thought-provoking.  19 figures march in formation; when reflected in the soaring granite walls, their numbers double to 38, symbolizing the 38th parallel.  The granite wall is etched with nameless faces, depicting the land, sea, and air troops that served.  It is an interesting contrast to the faceless names of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which sits on the opposite side of the reflecting pool. 

 

Following the wall takes you to the point of the memorial's triangle, where the path meets a reflecting pool with a simple phrase:

Looking back at the silent figures on patrol is eerie, even with dozens of other visitors around you. 

As you continue around the memorial path, gaining distance from the scenes etched into the granite, the faces fade in detail.  It seems a harsh metaphor inherent in the space, this distance and this fading from memory.  The phrase is often tossed around for political impact, but there is a true gravity to its reality: indeed, freedom is not free. 

The Events: Coffee & Crepes

Last week, I headed over to Coffee & Crepes in Cary for another reading by Ashley Memory from her upcoming novel, Naked & Hungry.

Celebrating her main character H.T.'s love of all things food, we sat outside, where we socialized, chatted about the book, and sampled fresh blackberry crepes before Ashley read from the book.  As the evening drew to a close, a nearly full moon rose over the trees.

Be sure to join Ashley for future readings - stay tuned to her site for upcoming events!

The Series: Old Well

The Carolina campus is one of my favorite settings.  It is that quintessential college campus that has so many interesting facets to capture and, quite honestly, it's tough to take a bad picture there, even on the rainiest of days.

It's certainly a conundrum, this trying to capture an entire campus in one shot -- how do you do it?  There are those iconic images, those hidden gems, places where historical buildings meet innovative structures.  The student body is so varied; how do you portray that through the lens in a way that doesn't appear staged?  An ideal shot would be a panoramic of the quad with morning light AND students...but some things just don't exist in nature.

Every campus has their one symbol that is instantly identifiable as theirs.  At Iowa, it's the Old Capitol - imagine our horror when it caught on fire in 2001 (at least this was an accident, unlike the Auburn oaks).

At UNC, it's the Old Well.  What once served as the original water source for campus now stands as the gathering point for everyone from visitors to current students to alumni.  It is an image that immediately evokes a sense of this place, arguably more than any other on the Carolina campus.

When the azaleas come into bloom, this space is nothing short of magical, especially when the sky is clear to reveal that perfect Carolina blue canopy overhead.  It is simply Carolina, then, now, and forever.

 

 

 

The Series: Great Blue Herons

Many Native American traditions believe in totem animals that provide spiritual guidance and lessons throughout our lives.  In this tradition, the Great Blue Heron stands for individuality, uniqueness, balance, and peace.

Herons seem to have a way of finding me.

Back in Davenport, we had a large pond out back that was home to the standard run of urban woodland creatures: squirrels, deer, raccoons, ducks, the occasional groundhog -- but we also had a heron nest that was used every year.  Though I moved away many years ago, my mother tells me that the herons are still there.

Last fall, I traveled through western North Carolina, starting with an afternoon sitting on an empty cove along the shores of Lake Norman.  As I read under the shade of the trees, I enjoyed the quiet, broken only by the occasional boat in the distance and the steady lapping of the water against the shore.

And then there it was.

I sat, still and silent, watching the heron wade in the shallows, catching minnows and whatever other small creatures were living there.  After about twenty minutes, it meandered off...and so did I.

That next spring, I was caught completely off guard by a heron on my roof.  These are the best shots I have of the creature, as I had the perfect combination of good lighting, clear blue sky, and a patient subject that somehow stayed still long enough for me to capture it in great detail.

 On a recent trip to DC, I was exploring the Jefferson Memorial as part of a segway safari (incidentally, a fabulously fun way to see the city).  As my friend and I made our way around the perimeter of the monument, I spotted another heron in the shallows of the Tidal Basin.  The fading evening light and the compressed timeframe made for a less than ideal shot, but the blurry edges of it almost captures the moment better: something fleeting and on the edge of your vision.

I've since seen my current resident heron flying overhead a few more times, once with a partner, so I imagine somewhere off in the grove of trees there are little heron chicks getting ready to make their first flights.  I can only hope they make another stop on my roof and that I'm there to witness it.