I Am A Camera
Goal: To notice what you notice —and to render it without trying to explain or interpret it.
Noticing. Across from my beige camp chair, which sits on hot asphalt, there are lush green hills of weeds growing untamed. Our snowy winter and thunder storm spring created this. The pungent smell of sagebrush is omnipresent and comforting in its familiarity. This is Northern Nevada, my home.
On the Pah Rah Interpretive Trail buzzing bugs blow by, red ants and hidden rattle snakes mix with chipmunks and Western Whiptail lizards. Above me are white clouds, fluffy, then thin, peeking through the bluest sky.
Yells of encouragement, (from the baseball diamonds behind me), and some weird male barking divide the space into two pieces, raucous and serene. Four-wheel drives raised high on fat tires bounce on a gravel road. Some drive up the small mountains to practice shooting guns, while others just want to get far away from people.
We all want to be out, far away from crowds today. It’s our first spring day without rain. I’m the only person on her laptop trying to be a camera. Why do I sit on the asphalt instead of in the brush? This is a leftover habit from my childhood and being raised by a mother and grandmother that don’t like being outside. To them, outside means bugs and spiders and snakes and hot and cold and various types of poop. So the asphalt parking lot, right beside my car, is where I gravitate. I have just enough outside to be pleasant with fresh air and sun but just enough man-made to lessen the snake and critter’s action.
Back to my senses. Hot sun makes my skin sweat slightly and my face shiny with oil. A light breeze dries my wet hair. Underneath a Rose of Sharon, there are three empty bottles of alcohol just inches from a trash can. Who did that? Orange finches and quail chatter to each other.
I’m eating three messy mangoes that my mother cut for me. They are tart and barely palatable. A man and woman dressed in all black walk toward the trail. There is a dog and a baby whose stroller is robust enough to roll on a rocky path. The man ambles to the garbage can to throw his dog’s poop away. We smile at each other and wave.
