Them again?

I get it. You know about the hummers already. But here's the thing: before the eclipse, I'd never attached my camera to the telescope. I came home one day and my partner was smiling. He'd pointed the telescope at the hummingbird feeder outside. Secured the camera. And waited for me to freak out. Which I did. Because HUMMINGBIRDS. 

I did a lot of standing there. Fixated. Missed shots. Waiting. Not wanting to actually go into the office but stay here all day in my new little blind. And the birds are even harder to photograph—because they're still really quick and now the focus is on the telescope and not the camera. Ug. 


The photos are from both of us. We left the camera there for a week or so. I'm not convinced any of the pics are for-real in focus. This means I need to practice more, right? Now I'm dreaming of making myself an ID book. Capturing photos of each individual, so I can begin to tell them apart and better understand my little neighbors. A girl can dream.  


The spit

Near Tillamook. I've known about the ice cream and tasty cheese. But I'd never heard about the Bay Ocean spit—a sliver of land between the river and ocean that once housed a thriving community. Until, that is, it washed away into the ocean. Whoa.


Now it's a quiet landscape. Perfect for one last camping trip of the year. We packed in some sangria, a couple books, a Frisbee and the trusty tent.



I have my partner to thank. He researched relentlessly. Made filters and ordered glasses. Jumped at the chance to stay at the dorms at Oregon State University. And invited his parents (who are in there 80s, by the way) to join us. The Great American Eclipse was passing through Oregon. And we beelined for the zone of totality. SUCH A GOOD DECISION.