It’s been a tough year for us with my mother’s health declining, both mentally and physically. She is now in hospice and calmer and more peaceful than I have seen her in a long time. It is the reason why I have missed writing some blogs this winter and spring.

As she lies there, still, I sometimes “remind” her of stories of trips we took together over the years, both on painting and photography scouts as well as overseas trips. I may tell stories of when my brother and I were little. I don’t know if she hears me, but it is cathartic for me to remember them.

Some of my favorite photos came out of those trips we took together. “Passing Season,” for example, was found on a day trip we took on both sides of the river in New Hampshire and Vermont.

This was the trip that taught my mother about the DeLorme atlases. We headed down one dirt road that was a shortcut to another area we wanted to explore. We were in one of my little diesel VWs that I had owned over the years.

“Do you really want to be on this road?” she asked, as the road got narrower and the ruts deeper. I should mention that the road looked much more like an old highway dating back to the 18th or 19th century than a proper road. In fairness to the atlas, it was marked by a dotted line.

“Well, I’ll just put my left tires on the edge and the right ones on the middle hump. We should be fine.”

We got to laughing, as the road got narrower still and the woods gathered around us more intimately. Even though it was only afternoon, we had visions of spending the night there with the bears curiously looking at us through the windows. After a short distance that seemed like forever at the brisk rate of 5 mph, the road started to look more civilized, finally becoming a proper dirt road, and soon a paved one, ending up right where we thought it ought to.

We both cheered and continued on to another dirt that the atlas showed as being on a ridge. A mile or so along the way, this scene opened up. Mum and I saw it at the same time. She said she would love to paint it, but barns and other scenes always took precedence. I wonder if she didn’t because she loved my photograph so much. It hung in a lot of exhibitions, and I think she was very proud that she had been along when I made this image, old highway and all.

Mum was an artist of quite some talent. She stopped painting when her mind stopped working as it once had. She was juried into The Copley Society, one of the oldest art societies in this country, as well as other art groups. While she had studied at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston as a child, she had no other formal training. My grandmother, artistic herself, always encouraged her girls to express themselves through their art. There are scrapbooks of wonderful drawings my mother did as a child. But with all this encouragement, she really missed that formal training and set about teaching herself the things she was missing.

She took painting workshops with nationally-known artists, and she brought me along for company, knowing that I would enjoy photographing in all the places the workshop would be painting. We headed over to Port Clyde in Maine, an area we already knew well from our sailing days along the Maine coast. One foggy morning, we went out walking before her class and came upon this scene. It spoke to both of us of the coast of Maine, and reminded us of the many times we had sailed in fog or been harbor bound by it.  We loved that these were traditional, wooden skiffs.

It had been years since Mum had been out West, and I don’t think she had ever been to the Southwest. One year, we decided to do a two week tour around the Southwest. We started off in Colorado, traversing the Continental Divide several times as we explored this area and that. From Mesa Verde, where we were both fascinated and drawn to all the Anasazi dwellings, we headed down onto the plains.  This is bleak land, a travesty when you consider that this is what we gave to the Navajo.  Shameful!  Bleak it is, but also beautiful.  There was a magnificent rainbow over the mesa to the west.  I stopped our rental car, and took off across the land to get the vantage point I wanted.  As I ran, my feet got heavier and heavier.

Gumbo.  I looked down, and I had platters on my shoes.  Large platters of the gray clay known as gumbo.  I started hopping from grass clump to grass clump, doing a little quick dance on each one to try to divest myself of my added footwear.  After all that, the rainbow disappeared, so it was all in vain.  On the way back to the car, I kept doing my little hop dance.  When I returned, my mother was convulsed with laughter.

“What, pray tell, was that all about?” she asked, tears tumbling down her cheeks.

I relayed what had happened, and after quite a few more foot scrapes, got into the car and headed down to Canyon de Chelly. That was a magical place for both of us. I had hired a guide, Timothy Halwood, as I recall, to take us into the inner canyons, since one cannot go beyond the main canyon without a Navajo guide.

Because it was an off time of year, we had the canyon practically all to ourselves. It was a real treat. Mum was particularly fond of these “ruins,” although we both agreed that the Anasazi had built them so well, that “ruins” seemed an inappropriate word. Every time I return to this spot, I think of that wonderful trip with Mum.

Later on that trip, we visited Albuquerque, Santa Fe, and Taos. We both have been drawn to the Indian people, just as my grandmother and great-grandmother were before us.

I have some wampum that was given to my widowed great-grandmother by a Santo Domingo chief when she was traveling in the Southwest in the 20’s with friends, long before it was fashionable to do so. My mother and I are not shoppers … except when it comes to Indian jewelry. We would browse in this little shop or that, and in fact, we found that we were always drawn to the jewelry made by the Santo Domingo artists. We would try on various pieces, wanting them all, but trying to behave and limited ourselves to only a few.

While we were walking along the narrow streets in Albuquerque Old Town, I stopped suddenly, seeing this window. I had to make a photograph, and this, too, has hung in many exhibitions over the years, always drawing as positive response as it did from Mum.

There are many other trips we did together — Spain, Russia, Sicily, England, Scotland, and Wales, to name a few. Often, we just would take off for a day in northern New England seeking subject matter for both our media. These were fun times, full of giggles and laughs, good conversation, and a wonderful companionship between mother and daughter. Yes, I miss those times, but every time I look at these photographs and others, those memories are right on the tip of my brain, just as strong and as vivid as when the happened.

New Workshop Listing for Belize in February

We are really excited to be offering People & Culture of Belize for February of 2010. This workshop will be limited to only ten participants and their spouses and guests, as we are staying in a lovely, eco-friendly lodge that has a very limited number of beautiful, screened-in, thatched-roofed cabanas (all with private baths). We’ll be in the middle of a 100-acre private rainforest on the lazy Moho River in southern Belize with easy access to Mayan villages, ancient ruins, gorgeous waterfalls, river scenes, and of course, the lush rainforest with all its flora and fauna.

As noted in our last blog, we have also added Summertime on the Maine Coast in response to those who were asking us for a summer workshop. Maine is beautiful in August, with warm days and cool nights. We hope some of you will join us. Since we added this photo workshop so late in the season, we are offering an Early Bird special for those who pay in full by June 22 instead of the usual four months in advance.

While you’re at the website, check out our other offerings. If you are considering joining us, do as others have already done … make your room reservations. Rooms go quickly at all our locations, but particularly for Canyon de Chelly & Navajoland, where there are few hotels and Belize, where there is only one. Remember, you can always cancel later if necessary and not pay any penalty! If “our” inn or hotel is full, or if you prefer to stay elsewhere, we always have links to other choices.

Remember, too, that spouses and SOs are always welcome to join us. We go to some great locations that they may enjoy, even though they aren’t photographers.

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