What’s that you say? A month ago I promised to finish my epic tale of sunburn and homesickness? I apologize for what must have been intolerable suspense. Life has been coming at me pretty fast lately, and I think it’s now towing me. Writing time has been at a premium.

We let our back yard get a bit out of control while we were attending to birds at the Renaissance Festival, so our first weekend at home was dedicated to yard work. Allison, who has within her head the complex map of mower-breaking stumps and snags, generally pilots the riding lawn mower, while the kids trim and move various obstructions. My job this time was to tackle a thicket of deep brush that had grown up on an incline too steep for either of the mowers. No sweat, I thought.

Two hours and one extended water break later, the brush had been reduced to mere stubble, and I was much more knowledgeable about the stress and strain involved with swinging a string trimmer powered by a 2-cycle gasoline engine without a shoulder strap. I was also keenly aware that I had forgotten to wear a hat. I remind readers who haven’t seen me recently that I am extremely fair of skin, freckled, and devoid of hair on the upper regions of my cranium. My head, which already looked a bit like the melon of a beluga whale, now looked and felt a lot like the surface of the sun.

The next day I was called upon to photograph one of Earthquest’s Birds of Prey shows for a scout troop in Jasper, and I again failed to cover my dome. In my defense I can only say that hats with brims interfere with my use of a camera, and that I don’t own any without brims.

For the next week I was embarrassed and annoyed by my peeling scalp, more so because it was the result of my own stupidity.

In mid-week, when the worst of the sunburn had subsided, we began a long-awaited extended weekend trip to visit my hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia. I’d not been home for quite some time, and it was a very pleasant visit. We left Wednesday evening and returned on Monday, giving us lots of time to visit my old haunts and to meet with some old friends. Alas, we didn’t get to visit everyone we hoped to see or to do everything we wish we could have done, but it was enough to sate my homesickness for quite some time. We had a nice dinner with old friend Rey Barry, and got to see the result of some recent remodeling work at his home. I had the chance to say hello to Rob Graham, Chris Callahan, and Jane Foy, some old friends from my days at WINA radio.

We even visited the Charlottesville-Albemarle SPCA, formerly run by a wonderful lady named Sally Mead. Sally was the most caring, devoted, and selfless animal advocate I have ever met. When I was doing an afternoon radio show, Sally called in and went on the air daily to report on happenings, recent arrivals, and pets available for adoption. She treated every animal that came through her doors as if it were her own beloved pet. I will never forget the day that Sally called just after Samson, a big friendly cat who had become a permanent resident, passed away. She could barely speak, the grief evident in her voice, and I tried to convince her not to bother going on the air that day, but she insisted. It was part of her calling, and it would not be subdued. It was heartbreaking and awe-inspiring all at once. I deeply admired her strength of character as much as her deep emotion.

There is now a memorial garden at the SPCA dedicated to this singularly remarkable woman, and a photo of her in the lobby that brought a tear to my eye as I remembered her and her work. If she could see the beautiful, modern, clean, well-run SPCA that has replaced the old one, she would be well pleased.

Returning home from the trip was a jarring experience. There was much catching up to do. The trip was a welcome break from recent stresses, though, and was a healing experience.

Since then, we’ve been struggling to get our fledgling photography business off the ground. It’s called Aves Photography, and we are specializing in portraiture and pet photography, the latter seeming to be a growing market segment and well suited to our comfort with animals.

We have an official business license now, and on the first weekend after July 4 we went to our first event, Atlanta’s Exotic Bird Fair. We set up in a ten by twenty foot space, with half reserved for studio space and the other half for tables and sales space. The venue was kind enough to pipe and drape all four sides of my studio space, giving me comfortable isolation and preventing my strobes from bothering adjacent booth occupants.

The whole family got involved with this. Allison acted as transportation captain and booth manager, arranging everything with her usual efficiency. She also helped by getting business cards and flyers designed and out the door in time for the event. Chelsea assisted with setup and acted as salesperson, pulling people in and hawking our services. Raymond was my photo assistant, in charge of powering lighting gear up and down, moving lights and modifiers as necessary, and assisting customers in and out. Raymond also designed the Aves Photography logo. For my part, I designed a very simplistic but workable web site in record time, set up a cute little studio that worked well, and pushed the shutter button on the camera.

For a first weekend in business, I think we did quite well. I’m quite happy with all of the photos we did for our customers. Best of all, we had a good time doing it, and we learned lots of lessons so that we can make an even better showing next time.

Beyond business, life has been odd. My emotions have taken a downturn of late, and it’s taken me a few days to discover why. It’s easy to turn and place the blame on people and events in my past, and some of that has crept in, but really most of the misfortunes in my life have been of my own making. I try not to resent my past.

I was listening to music on my way to work this morning, fatigued with the traffic reports and endless ultra-conservative political banter that is talk radio. A song by Tori Amos called “A Sorta Fairytale” came on, and I was intrigued by the lyrics, even though I’ve heard them dozens of times. I found myself wondering about the meaning of some of the phrases, so I did some google searches when I got to the office. Serendipitously, I stumbled on a quote from Tori herself which I am finding extremely comforting. Speaking of the character, Scarlet, from whose voice the song comes, she says,

“I think that there is a place where she realizes that people come in and out of your life, sometimes for one day, sometimes for longer, and all of them make you what you are. You can’t separate these people out of you. They form who you are, even the ones that you kind of say, ‘Well, you know, I don’t know if I wanna be formed by them anymore.’ But you are in some way… you are, that’s why maybe you don’t have to look at them so harshly because they have affected you. At the end, though, you know, it’s… us as individuals… with our… hmm… with our love for the land, for something intangible that, when soulmates come and go, you’re never alone even when you’re standing just you and your shoes, because you carry them with you.”

I didn’t expect such perspective-changing wisdom from Tori, but I should have. She’s right; this quote has the unmistakable ring of truth. Each of us is the sum of what we were given at birth and everything that has been added to us by the people we’ve met and the experiences we’ve had. People who have hurt us have also, in some way small or large, changed who we are, and who’s to say that such changes are not for the better? No, I’m not about to get on the phone and thank anyone who’s hurt me, but at the same time I am beginning to let go of some resentment and regret. I wouldn’t be involved with a wonderful woman like Allison if some other women hadn’t left tread marks on me a few miles back up the road, so not everything that seems bad really is bad in the long run. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but like chemistry on film, it develops them, revealing the true meaning that could not be seen before.

Speaking of film: despite pleas from Paul Simon that began as early as 1973, Momma (in the person of Eastman Kodak) has taken our Kodachrome away. Not another roll of that marvelous film will ever be produced. What’s left is what’s left; I’m trying to get my hands on a roll or two for a project, but it’s disappearing fast, but I’ve got a Nikon camera, and I love to take a photograph.