Tag Archives: landscape photography

Stone Door Christmas

Posted by dkrashb on

What does one do for Christmas when one is far from family?  Well, we decided to go hiking.  This is not so far removed from what we normally do on Christmas.  Although we were without my brother, sister-in-law, and nephews, we normally at least go for a walk on Christmas if not an out-and-out hike.

This year, we decided to undertake a slightly more strenuous outing.  Not a lot more strenuous, mind you.  We opted for a relatively easy and short hike given we’re a bit out of shape these days.  Plus, with Twiggy staying with us over the holiday, we weren’t sure what she would be like on the trail.

Wanting a low-stress outing, we decided to revisit Stone Door in the South Cumberland State Park.  The walk from the parking lot to the main overlook is only about a mile and the first portion of the trail is paved and wheelchair accessible.

We layered up although it was in the low 50’s here on Christmas day–the wind was strong enough to make it feel cooler.  We’d actually planned ahead for once and had provisions for a special Christmas picnic with wild caught smoked salmon, deli rolls, and cream cheese.

Twiggy’s mom had also provided a care package for the dogs for Christmas, so we packed pigs ears and lamb sausages for them to snack on.  The care package also included two new toys–a white fluffy ball for Twiggy and a squeaky green reindeer for Tisen.

Tisen claimed the white fluffy ball instead and wouldn’t let Twiggy near it.  Notice the ball next to Tisen’s head while riding in the car.

Tisen uses Twiggy's new toy as a pillow while Twiggy snuggles with Tisen's Big Dog

Tisen uses Twiggy’s new toy as a pillow while Twiggy snuggles with Tisen’s Big Dog

Stone Door is one of the more surprising places near us–at least to us.  The drive from Chattanooga to Stone Door is beautiful in and of itself.  The highway winds its way through the tree-covered mountains and through Nick-a-Jack lake, making the hour plus drive enjoyable in and of itself.  Then, the first overlook on the Stone Door trail is a breath-taking experience, even though you don’t have to leave asphalt to get to it.  It’s the kind of scenery that I grew up thinking you had to travel a long way to see.

An easy-access spectacular view

An easy-access spectacular view

From the easy-access overlook, you can see the rock outcropping where the Stone Door overlook starts

From the easy-access overlook, you can see the rock outcropping where the Stone Door overlook starts

Further down the trail, the top of the Stone Door (which is really a crevice that has provided a path down to the valley below for thousands of years) affords even more breath-taking views.

Cliff-side trees always impress me--good thing they're not afraid of heights

Cliff-side trees always impress me–good thing they’re not afraid of heights

This tree seems to have given up the ghost, but it still clings cliffside

This tree seems to have given up the ghost, but it still clings cliffside

I sometimes get a little closer to the edge than I'm really comfortable with--unlike the trees, I am afraid of heights

I sometimes get a little closer to the edge than I’m really comfortable with–unlike the trees, I am afraid of heights

Between the rocks, a huge hole provides a window to the valley below

Between the rocks, a huge hole provides a window to the valley below

This is the kind of rock that makes me suspect the ledge I'm standing on is really jutting out over the cliff--makes my knees weak

This is the kind of rock that makes me suspect the ledge I’m standing on is really jutting out over the cliff–makes my knees weak

The "gulf" seems to go on forever

The “gulf” seems to go on forever

The mostly limestone geography creates spectacular outcroppings

The mostly limestone geography creates spectacular outcroppings

What I love the most about the Stone Door overlook is the sound.  We sat on the stones at the top of the cliff and just listened for a while.  The only sounds we could hear were the wind blowing through the needles of many evergreens and the river tumbling down the valley far below, out of sight.  It’s a magical experience to close your eyes and feel like you are air and water and know that life is good.  Seems pretty appropriate for Christmas.

Even Tisen and Twiggy seem impressed by the view

Even Tisen and Twiggy seem impressed by the view

Looking back at the mountain from the overlook provides this view

Looking back at the mountain from the overlook provides this view

Tisen freezes for me for just a moment

Tisen freezes for me for just a moment

Happy Christmas

Posted by dkrashb on

I am re-posting my blog from last year Christmas Eve.  Feeling both nostalgic and concerned about what small things we can each do to make the world just a little bit better, it seemed like a good time to repeat this post.  This time, I decided to add photos.  I asked myself “what looks like peace?” when I went poking through my photos.  I wish I had more portraits, but, turns out I’m a landscape photographer.  Who knew?

All I Want for Christmas is World Peace

(originally posted December 24, 2011).

I would very much like to think of myself as a non-judgmental person.  But then I catch myself saying something like, “that crazy person is so judgmental–s/he thinks s/he is better than everyone else” and realize this is a lesson I’ve yet to master.

If you judge people, you have no time to love them.  Mother Theresa

Judgment riles me up, makes me feel righteous, justified, and even vengeful.  It separates me into the “right” and leaves those I judge in the “wrong.”  Having cast judgment, there is no need to listen or consider; all that can follow are proclamations.

Why do I judge?  There are practical reasons to make judgments.  For example, I choose to spell “judgment” with the standard American spelling instead of “judgement,” the standard British spelling.  Which is preferable?

In my case, this simple choice hides a deeper judgment.  I spell it “judgment” because I was taught that Americans who spell it “judgement” are ignorant.  If someone were to comment that I misspelled “judgment,” I could point them to a dictionary and explain that this is the correct American spelling.  I would be left feeling redeemed and, if I am painfully honest, even superior.

What I would not feel is connected to my fellow human being, negotiating the world together in harmony.

Love is the absence of judgment.  The Dalai Lama

What would I lose in giving up my judgments?  Clearly, my judgments benefit me in some way or I wouldn’t make them.  Would I be less smart if I never judged someone else to be stupid?  Would I be less hard working if I never judged anyone else to be lazy?  Would I be less competent if I never judged someone else to be incompetent?  Or do I make these judgments out of fear that I am what I judge?  Is pointing at someone else and calling them names a way of separating myself from what I don’t want to be?

I would hate to be discounted because I made a mistake.  What I would like is to be accepted for a flawed human being with the best of intentions.  What I need is to be heard and understood without being called good or bad.

 The moment that judgment stops through acceptance of what it is, you are free of the mind.  You have made room for love, for joy, for peace.  Eckhart Tolle

And that, dear reader, is what I want for Christmas:  love, joy, and peace.  I arm myself with the awareness that I judge.  I prepare myself to notice when I am judging.  I know that with attention, I can create more space for love, joy, and peace.  And in this gift to myself, I hope I can contribute just a little to a gift to the world:

World peace must develop from inner peace.  Peace is not the absence of violence.  Peace is the manifestation of human compassion.  The Dalai Lama

View of Downtown Chattanooga from Stringer's Ridge in the fall

View of Downtown Chattanooga from Stringer’s Ridge in the fall

The rising full moon pauses over Walnut Street Bridge

The rising full moon pauses over Walnut Street Bridge

This Eastern Bluebird--a harbinger of luck and happiness

This Eastern Bluebird–a harbinger of luck and happiness

While mountains offer dangerous adventures, viewed from a distance, their steadfastness always makes me feel peaceful.

While mountains offer dangerous adventures, viewed from a distance, their steadfastness always makes me feel peaceful.

Shot from Signal Point, the setting sun always puts me at ease.

Shot from Signal Point, the setting sun always puts me at ease.

What is more peaceful than a sleeping dog?

What is more peaceful than a sleeping dog?

Beautiful skies always make me feel hopeful.

Beautiful skies always make me feel hopeful.

Christmas trees alone in the dark always seem so quiet and still. I can sit and stare at a Christmas tree for hours.

Christmas trees alone in the dark always seem so quiet and still. I can sit and stare at a Christmas tree for hours.

The ocean, when relatively calm, soothes all your troubles away.

The ocean, when relatively calm, soothes all your troubles away.

Looking down the Tennessee River valley after a long hike makes my day.

Looking down the Tennessee River valley after a long hike makes my day.

Fog filters through the trees in the Black Forest in Germany.

Fog filters through the trees in the Black Forest in Germany.

I love light beams peeping through clouds--"god beams" as at least one of my photographer friends calls them.

I love light beams peeping through clouds–“god beams” as at least one of my photographer friends calls them.

Beautiful sailboats sail peacefully on this calm day on the Bodensee in Germany.

Beautiful sailboats sail peacefully on this calm day on the Bodensee in Germany.

Chasing the Sun

Posted by dkrashb on

I have had many romantic notions about the sun in my time.  What sounds more romantic than hanging out on a beach watching the sunset?  Or watching the sunset from the top of Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawaii?  Or staying up all night and watching the sunrise together?

The truth is, watching sunset on the beach caused one of the worst allergic reactions I’ve ever had–never did figure out what I sat on.  Standing on Mauna Kea to watch the sunset caused light headedness and near hypothermia.  And as for staying up all night to watch the sunrise, well, I haven’t actually managed to stay up all night since I was in my 20’s.  Even then, by the time the sun was rising, I was nodding off.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no regrets.  The beach sunset in San Diego was the first time I’d watched the sunset from the West coast.  We sat on a collection of rocks for a half an hour while the sun made its descent, slowly melting into the ocean at the end of its journey.  In the foreground, a collection of sea lions barked a chorus to accompany the show.

As for Mauna Kea, the clouds sank below where we were standing.  We were like the gods of Mt Olympus watching the sun follow the clouds until it disappeared beneath them.  And, the tour that took us there provided parkas, so we weren’t really at risk of freezing to death even in the blistering winds that blew up the mountain at impressive speeds.

And the last time I watched the sunrise after staying up all night, I was at Daytona Beach on the East coast, watching the sun rise out of the water like a brilliant breeching whale.

These days, I’m shooting sunrise and sunset only when I happen to notice something interesting and I happen to have my camera handy.  This is mainly because when I actually plan to shoot sunrise or sunset, I come home with about 1000 images that all look virtually the same.  Then I spend hours comparing and deleting.  It’s a time drain.

But maybe that doesn’t make them less romantic?  After all, I took the shot of the sunset over the glass bridge when Pat and I were strolling around downtown Chattanooga holding hands, exploring our new city shortly after moving here.  The image of sunrise over Market St was taken during a similar early morning walk along the riverfront.

Perhaps I’ve started taking the sun for granted.  There was a time not so long ago when seeing the sun was a real treat, regardless where it was in the sky.  In my home town, there are only 5 sunny days a year.  I think that’s the average per week in Chattanooga.

Maybe that’s why I’ve once again ended up with so many photos of the sun?

Bright Star

Posted by dkrashb on

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art–
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever–or else swoon to death.

-John Keats

Last night, Tisen started sticking his head under my mouse-hand, making it impossible to work.  I eventually took the hint and got his leash.

As we entered the park, I looked East and saw a bright glow coming from the ridge.  “Crap!” I said aloud, and then looked to see if anyone heard me.  Saved from embarrassment by solitude, I moved Tisen into a trot thinking we could make it around our 2/3 mile loop in time for the moonrise.

I told myself I was being foolish–the moonrise lasts only a few minutes.  As we made our way down the path, I looked over my shoulder to see if we were missing it.  The light glowed strongly through the trees in the park.  Once again, I said, “Crap!” but this time, there was a man walking behind us.  I might have blushed a little.

I tried to rush Tisen, but this resulted only in him pausing mid-sniff to give me a perplexed look.  When we made it around the next corner, I realized the glowing light I saw through the trees was a well-lit building.  There was hope!

When at last we got back to where I could see the ridge, the glow I had spotted on the way out remained unchanged.  I squinted and saw it was actually a billboard on the side of the hill.

I pulled out my phone and checked the time.  It was only 6:32.  The moon rose at 5:44PM officially the night before . . . the last time I shot the moon rising behind the ridge, it didn’t appear until 15-20 minutes after the official moonrise time . . . the moon usually rises about 40 minutes later each night than the night before . . . there was hope!

I had not missed the moonrise at all.  Perhaps Keats understood the moon better than Juliet–steadfast in its predictability.

Arriving on our rooftop, a glow started to appear behind the ridge.  I positioned the top of the ridge low in the frame to cut out a brightly lit window in a house below the ridge.  Not liking the composition, I reframed including the window and shot again.  As I check the image through my loupe, I realize it was not a window I was seeing at all–it was the moon!  I nearly swooned to death.

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Circled Orb

Posted by dkrashb on

O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

-Juliet, Romeo and Juliet

The full moon rose at 5:44 in Chattanooga tonight.  I was still working.  I failed to realize tonight was the full moon until well after 7PM.  I took Tisen for a walk and looked up.  Not only was the moon putting on quite a display, but Jupiter was there as if it were orbiting the moon.

As I shot the full moon in a completely clear sky, I thought about words of wisdom shared with me by another photographer about a year ago, although it seems more like a decade now.  He told me not to bother to shoot the full moon.  It turns into a flat rock in photos when it’s full.

Fascinated by the full moon as a subject, I undertook shooting the moonrise as often as possible so I could shoot the full moon as it clears the horizon.  I’ve found this adds an interesting dynamic to the moon.  Plus, the moon pretty much gets overexposed in order to preserve the other objects of the photo, so you get a ball of fire instead of a flat rock.

Tonight, I am too late.  But it’s the last full moon of the 2012 and Jupiter is there beside it.  So, I shoot it anyway.  Unfortunately, Jupiter looks far more impressive in person than on “film.”  The moon-rock effect is in full force, although I tried some additional adjustments in Aperture to try to make it more interesting.

I’ve supplemented the gallery with past shots of the moon.  You can see how the crescent moon looks far more 3-dimensional.  But I am still drawn to the full moon.

In the meantime, one of my friends posted a comment, “Oh!  There’s a full moon!  That explains everything!”  I have often thought I had more energy and anxiety during the full moon.  But, a quick search through some of the research available online doesn’t offer any proof that the full moon has any effect on our behavior at all.

I try to remember the explanation I once heard about why the full moon affects people’s behavior.  I recall being told that the full moon had an effect on the gravitational pull, but my brief search tells me that the increased gravitational pull of the moon aligning with the sun happens at new moon, not full moon.

If only I could find an explanation for why I feel like howling.

Maybe Juliet was onto something.  Maybe it’s the frustration of the inconstant moon changing shape, rising late, and appearing in unexpected places that makes me want to howl.  Especially when I realize I’ve missed moonrise.

Oddly, Tisen doesn’t seem to feel compelled to howl at all.  Maybe he doesn’t notice the inconstant moon?

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Bubble Wrap

Posted by dkrashb on

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that we will be home for Christmas this year.  I didn’t mention why.  We’re moving.  It’s not the kind of move that makes my Nomadic heart sing, but it’s a move none-the-less.  We are moving to a quieter place not far away from where we are now.

I have moved many times in my adult life.  My moving truisms:  1)  move often, 2) take little, and 3) start packing early.  1 and 2 are intricately related.

Toward this end, I start cleaning out excess stuff and packing what we want to keep even though we are several weeks away from our move.  It’s a busy time of year at work and at home, so the earlier I get started, the less stressed I’ll be.

This means pulling out the empty boxes from our last move along with the bubble wrap and paper packing material, and packing away the decorative things that make us feel at home.  I start with the photos displayed on our walls, mostly by photographers far more talented that I.

It takes yards of bubble wrap to safely package the photos framed under glass.  I wrap each one lovingly, remembering the photographers whose works I display on my walls.

I am tempted to pop the bubbles in some of the wrap.  It’s hard to resist the popping noise bubble wrap makes when you jump on it.  But, it doesn’t make for good protection once it’s been popped.

When I’ve packed the photos and most of the non-essentials in the bedroom, there is still a stack of bubble wrap left on the floor, perfectly sized for wrapping glasses.  It’s too soon to pack glassware, something we most definitely use every day.

I hold a piece of bubble wrap up in the early afternoon light streaming through the windows and get an idea.  What if I were to shoot the view through the bubble wrap?

I imagine reflections of the city skyline in the bubbles like those commonly seen in water droplets.   Then, I imagine a distortion that makes the city look like it’s inside a snow globe.  I can’t wait to give it a try.

I tape a single square of bubble wrap to the window then press my lens close to the glass next to the bubble wrap and focus on the skyline in the distance.  I move my lens so I’m shooting through the bubble wrap and search for an image that might look like something.

Alas, there is so much distortion, most of the focus is lost.  There are no reflections in the air inside the bubbles like there would be in a water droplet.  The plastic creates flare, like when shooting into the sun, but it doesn’t really create a globe effect.

While I’m not fond of the resulting images (I like the macro shots of the bubble wrap better), at least I found a way to play with bubble wrap without destroying it.

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Giving Thanks

Posted by dkrashb on

Thanksgiving is the most important holiday of the year to me these days.  It’s a holiday that isn’t overloaded with expectations, can be celebrated with little effort (for those of us who don’t cook), and usually offers the opportunity to reflect on all that is good in life.

It’s the last part that makes this a special holiday.  It’s always easy to find something to complain about.  Yet complaining rarely makes me happy.  On the other hand, remembering what I have to be grateful for fills me with the sort of joy that both reminds me how good my life is and makes me sad that not everyone can find a long list of things to give thanks for.

In giving a little more thought since yesterday’s post to my gratitude list for Thanksgiving this year, here is what I came up with on my second attempt.  I am grateful for:

  1. Friends and family who accept and love me with all of my shortcomings, laugh with me when I laugh, laugh at me when I deserve to be laughed at, and remind me that the greatest joys in life often come in the smallest gestures when they’re least expected.
  2. A world so full of wonder that I could live a thousand lives and still not come close to exhausting the potential to be awed and amazed.
  3. The extraordinary number of people in the world who believe that kindness is more important than being right, justified, recognized, or fair.  Examples:  A friend of mine picks up other people’s dogs’ poop in the park.  A neighbor walked across the street with a trash bag one day and start picking up the trash left behind after a marathon.  A woman across the street stood on the corner asking passers-by if anyone recognized a puppy who had been hit and killed, wanting to inform the owners.  Every day there are people taking care of others in ways that often go unnoticed.  I am grateful to be surrounded by inspiring people.
  4. The abundance of food that makes it possible for me to have to watch my weight.  I am sometimes ashamed that not everyone in the world has the same access to basic resources like food.  But for today, Thanksgiving Day, when we Americans traditionally feast until we burst, I set aside my guilt and simply feel incredibly grateful to have had the fortune of being born in a part of the world where food is plentiful and affordable.
  5. Finally, technology.  It gives me the opportunity to experiment with forms of personal expression like blogging and digital photography, the ability to make a living, and access to information from anywhere I have a cell signal.  More importantly, technology connects me to people all over the world I would have never known about otherwise.

All-in-all, I am grateful I have the opportunity to live my life, to find my own path.  I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday.

Going Classic

Posted by dkrashb on

On our moonlight walk last night, I also spent some time shooting what could be called “classic” scenes from the Chattanooga waterfront.  I call them this because you can find similar shots hanging in just about any restaurant, office, gallery, or photographer’s booth at a holiday market.  It seems we are all attracted to the waterfront, particularly at night.

I discover several problems with shooting in the dark:

  1. I can’t see what’s in the frame and what’s out until after I shoot and review the shot.
  2. With a very dark foreground, it’s impossible to get autofocus to work in the part of the shot I want to focus in to get the greatest depth of field.
  3. I cannot see well enough in dim light to focus manually.
  4. Focusing on spots of light reflected in moving water is next to impossible.
  5. The magnifying loop is a life saver.

That said, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am grateful, too:

  1. I have this fabulous view within a 5 minutes walk
  2. It’s warm enough to be out shooting in November without having to wear a parka
  3. I have a supportive and patient husband who’s willing to walk the park with me while I shoot at 9:00PM at night
  4. I am able to make time for my hobby
  5. I have made life choices that freed up money for photography and other things I enoy
  6. The aquarium lights are on.

Perhaps I will have a more philosophical list tomorrow.  For now, It’s late, I’m tired, and what I’m most grateful for at the moment is having a comfortable bed waiting for me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Walkin’ in the Moonlight

Posted by dkrashb on

At the end of the day, I find myself with no new photos, nothing to write about, and a dog that needs to go for a walk.

I decide it’s been too long since I shot down at the riverfront at night.  I have shot the riverfront from the roof and balcony many times, but I can’t remember the last time I actually carried my camera down to the river after dark.

Having gone small yesterday, it seemed reasonable that today I would go wide, so I put my 16-35mm lens on my camera, grabbed my loupe and tripod, and talked my husband into coming with me and bringing the dog.

Walking Renaissance Park at night is always an interesting experience.  The meadow voles who live on the hillside at the park entrance seem to be mostly daytime critters–no rustles are heard in the leaves as we walk by, unlike earlier in the day when something scurried away every few steps.  Ironically, if they would hold still, we would never know they were there.

But as we head down the walkway past the wetland, leaves crunch loudly in the woods to our right.  A little too loudly.  We glance at each other and then peer into the darkness of the woods wondering what might be lurking there big enough to make that much noise.  I remind myself how loud even a mouse can be in fall leaves and we keep moving without any boogie men jumping out at us.

I pause to shoot the reflected trees in the wetland water.  It’s not the most stunning reflection, but I like the bright trees at the top of the hill and the dark sky streaked with clouds.

Tisen drops Snake (one of his newest family members), leaving the red and green toy (doesn’t every family have a Christmas snake?) laying in the shadows along the sidewalk while he investigates a smell.  Whoever was here before him left behind an interesting story–I finish shooting long before he’s done sniffing.

The night is cool, but I am warm enough with a sweater and light jacket.  The frogs and cicadas have disappeared and the only noises we hear besides the occasional rustle of leaves is the voices of other couples walking in the moonlight.

I think how romantic this walk might be if I weren’t carrying a tripod and stopping to shoot for long intervals.  My husband patiently keeps Tisen entertained while I shoot.  Maybe that’s it’s own kind of romance?

As we work our way around the same path we have walked hundreds of times in the past 15 months, I look at the scene anew.  Shooting causes an interesting shift in perspective–I look at the moon, the clouds, the lights, the converging lines, and the sculptures from different angles and look for new ways to combine them in my frame.

I realize the same old scene is actually never the same twice.

Cow Tipping and Sky Scrapers

Posted by dkrashb on

As the holidays approach kick-off, I find myself searching through old photos more frequently.  I’m thankful for old photos–they remind me of where I’ve come from and refresh the memories I’ve taken with me.

These images are from a photography workshop I went to back in Columbus, Ohio (I have to add “Ohio” now because when you live in Chattanooga, they usually assume you mean Columbus, TN or Columbus, GA).

As I review the images and look at the metadata, I realize just how many mistakes I made.  That, too, is a reminder of where I’ve come from.  Sometimes it’s nice to realize I am learning even if the process seems slow.

I ponder why these images all seem to have been shot with a wide open aperture, resulting in out-of-focus foregrounds and/or backgrounds.  These days, I like to see the entire scene in focus in most landscape shots.  The difference between having lots of depth of field and the images in the gallery probably comes down to the want of a tripod and low light conditions.

But what jumps out at me as I peruse these photos is that in over 40 years of living there, I had never really seen downtown Columbus before this day.

I had walked the streets more times than I can count.  I’d been to theaters, restaurants, shops, meetings, museums, and even two courthouses.

But I walked the streets with purpose, my mind busy with the reason I was there or the things I needed to do, focused on what was ahead or behind and not on what was around me.

I wonder if I returned to my home town how I would see it differently.  I think back to vague memories of the Columbus skyline from my childhood.  There was one sky scraper then, the Lincoln LeVeque Tower.  It remains the most interesting of the tall buildings in the Columbus skyline even though its height has been eclipsed for many decades by its neighbor, the Rhodes State Office Tower.

As I look at these images and see blocks and blocks of big-city buildings, I realize how much the town and I grew up together.

My family arrived in 1970 when Columbus was still called Cow Town.  In fact, even when we left, there were still cows grazing on the OSU Agriculture campus pastures well within the city limits.  It would be hard to grow up in Columbus without knowing what cow-tipping was.

At the same time, Columbus invested in revitalizing some of its worst neighborhoods, developing its downtown riverfront, creating an awesome metro park system, and attracting large businesses that built up the Columbus skyline.  In retrospect, I realize that Columbus grew up without me noticing.  It turned into a real city with real attractions.

None of that makes me regret our decision to move to Chattanooga, however.  Perhaps a mid-western metropolitan lifestyle is less important to me than views of Lookout Mountain.