Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press

"Bells, Tennessee"

"The Cotton Near Bells, Tennessee" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

We grow cotton in Southern Arizona, but nothing like the robust fields I saw in Western Tennessee. Like a blizzard of cottony goodness.

"Bristlecone Pine Triptych"

"Bristlecone Pine Triptych, White Mountains, California" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

(Shot with one of a Brownie Starflash camera, using Bluefire Murano ISO 160, 127 size film. A wondrous place to go. I've visited Ancient Bristlecones State Park a number of times now. I'd highly recommend the journey up to these trees, if you are ever on the eastern side of The Sierra Nevadas.)

Mary Elton Saum Jenks: October 31st, 1926 - July 7th, 2011

Images: "Rincon Ocotillos: For Mary Jenks" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks & "Mary On The Fourth Of July" (c) 2010 Stu Jenks

Mary Elton Saum Jenks
October 31st, 1926 - July 7th, 2011

    Mary Elton Saum Jenks died July 7th, 2011 at Crossroads Adult Care Center in Tucson, Arizona of complications from dementia. She was 84 years old. Mary was born in Alexandria, Virginia into a family of landed gentry. She attended Duke University in North Carolina, graduated from Duke pre-med, and married Stuart Carlyle Jenks Sr. soon after. They were married 52 years until his death in 2001. Mary was very active in The Episcopal Church, from being choir director at St. Mary’s Whitechapel in Lively, Virginia, to being a member of The Standing Committee of the Diocese of Virginia. She is survived by her son, Stuart C. Jenks Jr. of Tucson, Arizona, her brother, Courtney Saum of Silver City, New Mexico and a few nieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her sisters Virginia and Nan, her husband Stuart and her daughter Pamela. Memorial services for Mary will be held at Grace St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, 2331 East Adams Street, Tucson, Arizona, on Saturday, July 30th at 2 p.m.. Another funeral for Mary and the burials of both Pamela and Mary Jenks will be at St. Mary's Whitechapel Episcopal Church, 5940 White Chapel Road, Lancaster, Virginia on September 17th, 2011 at 2 p.m.
    In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to Casa de la Luz Foundation, 400 West Magee Road, Tucson, Arizona 85704  

 

"The Tallest Joshua Tree in the World"

"The Tallest Joshua Tree in the World, Joshua Tree National Park, California" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

"A Hermit Crab on an Abalone shell"

"A Hermit Crab on an Abalone shell, Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, San Mateo County Park, California" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

"Lone Saguaro on The Arizona Trail"

"Lone Saguaro on The Arizona Trail, near Oracle, Arizona" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

(And the light was that good that day. I waited for it and it came. Granted, I did burn in the sky a bit but the light in this picture didn't need much help.) 

"Welcome to Tucson"

  

"Welcome to Tucson" (c) ?, Anonymous Photographer.

(Happy 12th Night, from all of us in the Sonoran Desert. Come visit, bring money, take off your clothes.)

"Thornton Beach in October"

"Thornton Beach in October, Daly City, California" (c) 2010 Stu Jenks & Susie Chartreuse

[The top four images were taken by Susie, the bottom five were taken by me; and yes, boys and girls, that is a coyote on a bluff overlooking the beach. She kept a close eye on us as we hiked back to the car.]

 

"Ms. Mountain Lion"

"Ms. Mountain Lion: Southern Arizona" (c) 2010 Stu Jenks

    The glare from the late afternoon Sun makes seeing out my windshield difficult. It doesn’t happen often as I climb this steep well-maintained dirt road in some mountains south of Tucson, but when it does, I can hardly see.
    I turn up another hairpin and again am blinded by the Sun. Then I see something in the road. I know what it is immediately even though I’ve never seen one in the wild. I stop my truck in the middle of the road, pull the emergency brake, and turn off the engine. She looks at me, but she isn’t afraid. Curious, but not afraid. I stare back at her. We do this for a second or two, but it feels much longer. I quickly grab the 400 mm from the backseat. As I put the camera to my eye, I see her begin to stroll away. I click off three quick exposures through the glare of the windshield. The mountain lion then disappears into the forest. I start the truck back up and pull past where she had just been. I get out and begin to walk toward the edge of the road. At the edge, the land falls steeply away, into a jumbled mix of brush, Mexican Oaks and Alligator Junipers. I’m scared but in a good way. I know I’m not in any real danger unless Ms. Mountain Lion is rabid or extremely hunger. I hope she’s not sick. I hope she recently had a meal.
    I peer down the hill, hoping to catch a glance of her, hoping to perhaps photograph her face. Her face. Hmm. That might not be such...and then I stop thinking about photography. I need to become big. I raise my arms above my head, my huge white Canon in my right hand. I still walk and look over the edge but my enthusiasm for that great Cougar shot has greatly diminished. I’m now afraid, but not in a good way. I’m foolishly stalking an animal that stalks prey for a living. And I can feel her eyes out there somewhere. She sees me but I can’t see her. She stalking me. I’m now the prey.
    Usually I would thank the wild animal for allowing me to see her, to be with her, to share her space with me, but I don’t today. I just back away from the edge and slowly walk back to my truck. I walk sideways as to not show the cat my full back. I open the truck door, enter, close the door and begin to breathe again.

...but it felt like Christmas in Zion...