Friday, June 18, 2010

Confusing IKEA Instructions

Perhaps a bit late, here is a picture of an apple blossom in my brothers yard. It amazes me how effortlessly this little tree can produce such beautiful work. Take out a pencil and a sheet of paper and try to replicate the blossom. For me, an hour later and with the paper all smudged with eraser marks, I would have my rendition of the blossom. That's what I would call it anyway, but you might think it's a sea star.

Regardless, the point I'm trying to make is without a central nervous system, this tree makes this blossom. It follows the blueprints from the DNA and makes it. I have a hard enough time following IKEA instructions on how to make a dresser let alone following hundreds and thousands of C, T, A, and G's to make a flower. To quote Bill Nye again: It's Science!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

1,000 Yard Club

It's an exclusive club, and you might not have heard of it. Sure you've heard of the Culture Club, Club Med, the French Club, and maybe Club Soda, however, the 1,000 yard club probably never even crossed your mind. No worries, I didn't know what it was either. You don't have to kiss someone at midnight on the A, or ride Big Blue in the nude to be a part of this club. Really the only thing you have to do is hit a target 1,000 yards away. I went to a place in Morgan that I've never been to. It was up towards East Canyon in the mountains. Everything was green--the fields, the trees, and even the grass is still green. I haven't seen anything this pretty in a long time.

Once we were up there, there were a series of targets going up a hill. Ten total. Each one was separated by a hundred yards, and the one that you can barely see mid way up the hill was the thousand yard target with a metal plate hanging a foot off the ground. I can't remember the gun we used, it was big and loud. I want to say that it has a 270 in the name. Liking lenses though, I can tell you that that was one heck of a telephoto scope. Just place those cross hairs on the metal target, take a deep breath, and squeeze the trigger. Since the gun jumps so much you lose the target immediately in the scope and the only reassuring sign in a loud "plunk" that seems like 5 seconds after you fired the gun.

For you deer hunters out there that are reading, this might not seem like a big accomplishment; but for someone that couldn't even hit a clay pigeon with a shotgun the other day that was only 100 feet out, this is a big deal. It was fun. It was a beautiful night in a beautiful place.

This picture is from Jeni's sister-in-law's cabin up towards mirror lake in the Unitas. If you like vertical lines, I think this picture will find a special place in your heart. Quaking Aspens always remind me of hiking and camping.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Same Address, Same Content

What do you say when you haven't said anything in a half of a year? It's very similar to walking to the same building on campus for an entire semester for your biology class and noticing that same guy everyday walking the other way. The only reason you know each other is from passing by on the way to class, yet for some reason when you see each other off campus you feel like you need to say hi even though you haven't spoken a word in your lives. I mean, what do you talk about? "Hey, so... those seats in the MARB are WAY to close together, eh?"

Anyway, it's kind of like that. The new name of the blog is nothing special, it really doesn't change anything--same address, same content. I guess it just makes it easier to write that first blog after being away for such a long time.

Stopping down is a term when you make your aperture smaller in your lens. For example, if you want your landscapes a little sharper, you would want to stop down your lens to f/8 or f/11. If you need a greater depth of field for a group portrait, just stop down your lens a little to say f/5.6. Don't get fooled, f stops are fractions so f/1.4 is indeed bigger than f/16. You get the point, but I just wanted to explain the new name. So yeah, Stopping Down--I don't know it might not even stick. Lastly, here is a picture of my beautiful mom, which ironically, isn't stopped down but is taken wide open.