Happy World Pinhole Photography Day!

In celebration of World Pinhole Photography Day, I present a couple of photos taken with my Canon Rebel T2i and a body cap that was converted to a pinhole "lens" (pictured here).

In Memoriam of the April 27 Tornadoes in Alabama

It's been a year since tornadoes tore across the state of Alabama in several waves of storms, on April 27, 2011, uprooting trees, homes, and lives. More than two hundred were killed, tens of thousands were left homeless, but none of us were unaffected. Memories of that day are no less vivid now than in the days immediately thereafter. 

I got a call from my tenants in Warrior around 8:30am that a tornado had ripped through that town, damaging my house, but leaving everyone healthy; almost every large tree on the block was downed leaving that landscape forever altered. That afternoon, I watched live footage of a large tornado as it tracked directly toward downtown Cullman, eventually ripping through that city and devastating it.

But those events were only precursors fore what was to come. A couple of hours later, multiple tornadoes touched down in western Alabama and began making their way east. One particular tornado stayed on the ground for more than 120 miles, at times more than a mile wide, and ravaging the likes of Tuscaloosa, Phil Campbell, Pleasant Grove, Pratt City, Fultondale, and on east to Anniston.

What left an equally strong impression as the storms themselves was the outpouring of love, compassion, giving, and humanity from neighbors and strangers across the street, state, and nation, that began in the moments immediately following the devastation and has continued to date. And while the landscape is still scarred, the long road to recovery is well under way.

Earlier posts regarding these tornadoes: Warrior and Fultondale, Fultondale, Tuscaloosa, Pratt City.

Celebrate Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day

Sunday, April 29, 2012, is cause for celebration, as it is Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day. Pinhole photography can be either very simple or complicated. In its simplest form, it involves using a light-tight box (like an oatmeal container or coffee can, below), inserting either film or photographic paper, and exposing the film to light via a hole with a tiny aperture (ie: the size of the head a of straight pin) that you've made in your container. 

My two homemade pinhole cameras (above) are pretty simple, but some are really lovely and elaborate. I also fashioned a pinhole apparatus from the body cap for my Canon Rebel T2i, which I used to take the below photos. But I quickly discovered that pinhole photography behave differently on a digital sensor. Because of the small size of the sensor compared to a 5"x7" piece of photographic paper, diffraction is much more sever on the sensor, having a very negative effect on the sharpness of the photo.

On Sunday, I'll post some photos I made with my digital pinhole setup.

Hosting a Family of Juncos in Alabama

For the last three years, a pair of juncos have built a nest atop the porch light in our back yard. Each year I have done whatever I can to deter them - knock down the nest in its early mud-and-stick stage; put a small, upturned hand-held rake on top of the light; leave the light on so it gets too warm - but to no avail. These juncos are determined that this is their nesting spot.

Waiting for the coast to clear for safe passage to the nest

 Juncos aren't particularly troublesome birds. Being in the sparrow family, they eat mostly seeds and small insects. My main concern has been getting my eyeballs pecked out by an overly protective momma bird; and this year, that concern extended to Darby's eyeballs, particularly since she likes to chase after the birds when they alight in the back yard. But the juncos don't seem to be bothered by any of us except when they forget we're in the back yard and land too close for comfort on the patio table, resulting in each of us being startled.

Lighting from the fence, bringing nourishment to those babies

In the last couple weeks, we started hearing chirping as momma nears the nest. And with each passing day, the little gray lumps of feather have kept getting bigger, until now when momma junco has to sleep on the edge of the nest and the junclets spend their days peeking over the sides, observing the goings on.

 In the not too distant future, silence will be emanating from that next. The babies will have learned to fly. And everyone will be off to northern destinations and cooler climates.

I count four heads, which is quite the nestful

Addendum: After I initially drafted this piece but before I was ready to post it, there was a significant change in the lives of these birds. I was sitting outside Saturday afternoon, drafting Sunday's post after running the Statue to Statue 15K, when I heard a flutter of wings. I immediately looked up to see one of the babies flying to the fence. It wasn't graceful, but he made it. Then he allowed me to approach for a close-up photo before fluttering off. He was much less shy than his mother.

Running the Statue to Statue 15K in Birmingham

Vulcan on Race Day

On Saturday, I ran the Birmingham Track Club's 22nd annual Statue to Statue 15K run, which proudly calls itself "The South's Toughest 15K." And while I can't attest to that, I can assure you that consensus has it as the most difficult race in Birmingham, Alabama. One particularly stretch is rather notorious and is the reason that some runners, when asked for advice about running this race, simply reply, "Don't." I don't know that this stretch has a monicker, but if not, I'd like to dub it "Hell's Half Mile."

 Saturday started out as a pretty dreary looking morning as the 500 or so congregated at the foot of Vulcan Park, but nothing dresses up a day like the attire donned by a couple hundred runners of every shape, size, color, and ilk.

Not far from the starting gate, everyone's still feeling spry and eager.

Our course carried us from the bottom of Vulcan Park east through Mountain Brook and eventually to Liberty Park, 9.39 miles later. But few are the flat patches between those two landmarks. We traversed some of Birmingham's nicer neighborhoods, and many residents spent a part of their mornings cheering us along our way. And while this raced lacked the hordes of fans that some of Birmingham's larger races draw, those who were present weren't lacking in spunk.

These ladies easily win the award for 'Most Encouraging Spectators'

And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention and express gratitude to those most important components of any race, the volunteers at the aid and water stations, who both literally and figuratively are life savers. Unfortunately, I generally carry my Camelbak Lobo and bypass the water stations, since I'm apparently incapable of drinking from a cup while moving. But I sure do miss throwing my cup on the ground; it's awfully fun.

First water station, near mile 3

Near mile 7, these folks on the right were handing out sweets and beer to the bold or unwitting

Now for one more comment about Hell's Half Mile before the finish: I wasn't among the elite runners since I'm not gifted with great speed, so I was somewhere in the middle of the pack, but I didn't see one person run all the way up that hill. Prior to reaching it, I was determined, as a matter of pride, to keep my running form, but pride lost out after a couple hundred yards; I succumbed to it sooner than some, but later than most.

After that stretch is when it gets really interesting; from that point on, it's mostly downhill, which at first you really appreciate. But before long, going down is as grueling as was going up, as it just destroys what's left of your quads. So you do what I did - give in to gravity, let go of control, and hope for the best, remembering that if you do start to fall, tuck-and-roll is your best bet.

Beginning the long climb up Hell's Half Mile. It's worse than it looks from here.

For your perusing pleasure, here are other races I've run and written about: 2011 Mercedes Half Marathon, 2011 Huntsville Half Marathon, 2012 Russell Forest Run.

A Story about Rainbow Falls on Signal Mountain, Tennessee

Sometime in 2002, I went on a solo hike on Signal Mountain, near Chattanooga, Tennessee. I decided that since I was by myself, it would be best to keep everything pretty tame and not take any chances. I planned to stick to the trails and just have an enjoyable time. That was my plan.

Middle Creek above Rainbow Falls

Then I came to the part where you have to ditch the trail to go down to Rainbow Falls, which wasn't really a big deal as it's not a treacherous descent. And once I got to the pool at the bottom of the falls, from which the creek recommences its cascade down Signal Mountain and eventually into the Tennessee River, I took a few minutes to soak in the scene.

But it didn't take me long to be ready to move on again, which led me to a decision point. I could either head back to the trail the boring old way that I came down, thus keeping my pledge to myself to adhere to the whims of caution, or I could climb up the rock face just to the side of where the falls spills over the rocks. And you already know which way that decision went.

I began to ascend the stone wall to the right of the falls, and only once I'd gotten about one-third of the way up did I realize that this really wasn't a particularly good idea. The rock was wetter than I had anticipated, and I wasn't going to be able to go back down; I was committed. I kept going another ten feet or so and realized that there were an awful lot of bees buzzing about me. Now I'm not necessarily scared of bees, but I do have a healthy respect for them and normally allow them to carry on their business without disturbing them. They also cause me sometimes to break out into spastic movements. This would not be an opportune time to react or to be stung. My feet started shaking. And I started praying, like we so many of us do when we get in a pickle.

Middle Creek below Rainbow Lake on Signal Mountain

So I started taking deep breaths and settling myself down again. Shortly thereafter I was able to resume my climb, chastising myself for my stupidity. That seemingly close call did quell my taste for adventure for the rest of that day, resulting in the rest of the hike being pretty uneventful, just as I had originally intended.

As it turns out, I don't have a descent photo of Rainbow Falls, but if you do a Google image search, you can see any number of them. Hopefully, I'll get back one day to take a worthy photograph of it.

A Demonstration to Save Cooper Green Hospital

In downtown Birmingham, in front of the Jefferson County Courthouse, there is an on-again-off-again demonstrator, who sets up his numerous signs, his baby carriages full of baby dolls, dons his snazzy get-up, and sings for hours on end. And despite Birmingham's many social problems, he isn't protesting any of them. His song isn't a call to action for upheaval. His is an entreaty to God and the Jefferson County Commission to save Cooper Green Hospital. His song of choice, Give Me That Old Time Religion, which he was crooning at the time I arrived at the courthouse and was still going strong with it two hours later, when I left.

"Save Cooper Green Hospital"

I have wanted to take this fellows photo for some time now, but until Friday, either I didn't have a camera when I was at the courthouse, or he wasn't present when I was armed with one.