Morning Walk - Roll With It

July 31, 2016  •  Leave a Comment


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July 31, 2016

This morning walk was wet, humid, and above all, quiet. This shooter had good circumstance. Every walk, under ideal conditions, contains the last quality.

The meadow path invited our footsteps with its wet, and colorful conditions. We accepted. Upon reaching the pond our feet were soaked, mallards came to greet us, and the invisible croaking toad belched his voice intermittently.

Perhaps one walk will reveal his presence and a decent image may immortalize his countenance. No luck this morning. Ever hopeful it may be some day soon.

Brownie lusted for a drink from the pond. This shooter did not oblige.  Turning to the woods a search began for the path leading to Woodland Lake. It was found after some minor wandering in the sparse woods. This shooter, on another day, might prefer the wandering, throw life to the wind, and just travel on a whim to wherever.

A left turn on the Woodland Lake path put us back on the path to the Big Springs parking lot. Brownie enjoyed the foray on no path at all. Her nose is her guide. This writer should be so lucky to have a sense of smell. Long gone due to abuse. Figure it out.

 Two young adults were sitting on the only bench near the parking lot, arms surrounding each other. It was one of those opportunities, you know, when you have that shot of young lovers entwined in each other’s minds. 

Did not take the shot. It is one of those times when it is better to allow them their moment and not record it. Perhaps this shooter might conduct a survey of fellow shooters: Have you ever had the opportunity to take a perfect shot, and refrained from shooting?

This writer contends there are moments that belong unrecorded, no matter how perfect or right, or wished for they may be.  They are personal moments, and belong in no camera. They belong to the owners of those significant seconds, instants, or times.

Done, at the Durango, Brownie loaded, off we go. Now to more mundane tasks; breakfast, espresso, washing, drying, and dreaded paper work.

One always questions the self. How are the images? Will they work? What captures the eye first, last? Was the exposure visualized? Does it touch the heart?

At this time: They are terrible, no, nothing in particular, first or last, yes, no, none. That’s just the first look. It is usually the best impression. Some days are like that.

The morning faded into afternoon with the humidity remaining the same, a spattering of rain, came and went. Clothes got washed, dried, folded, and put away. Music echoed the rooms, no earbuds now. The vibrations cut through everything and hummed this body into a quiet repose. 

Not exactly a walk in woods and/or meadow, but deliciously quiet, music not withstanding. Not a great day for images. Other days, other perceptions. Life rolls on, sometimes the best option is to roll with it.

I am grateful for your visit. Thank you.


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