Remember this portrait of me from a few weeks back? I was going though some images when I came across a picture that I tookt he same day. What sparked the connection is the little girl in the image I found was the same little girl that asked for my camera and took this image of me.
So, here is to Miss H. Sometimes I forget just how surprisingly good our younger photographers can be. Thank you Miss H. for reminding me.
I like the texture in this image, from the stacked stone chimney to the saw marks in the window boards.
Say hello to my parent's new stray cat, affectionately named "Yellow Cat" for his yellow coat. He's a fine cat, just very shy.
I really enjoyed taking and processing this image. I love the way everything seems to be coming from my lens. Nothing ground breaking, just fun.
In this one shot, I can see the interior of the church, the opposite wall with it's tall windows, outside of the windows on the opposite wall, myself, and the outdoors behind me reflected in the window directly in front of me.
And, it all looks like it is spilling out of my lens. That is the fun part.
Monday morning, my parents and I visited Hurricane Shoals, a county park about twenty minuted from their home in Georgia. While there, we saw a gorgeous great white egret fishing in the river. The bird allowed us to get remarkably close and we sat and watched it for a while. When the bird finally decided to move on, it lifted into the air and passed right in front of us.
My mother and I both snapped away, but panning shots are something that I am not practiced at and was not really prepared for. However, I did get one great shot of the bird's reflection in the surface of the river. I flipped the image, cropped and made my adjustments. I am pretty happy with the results.
Thought you might want to see a more conventional image of the beautiful bird.
When shown an old bed, I've often heard people tell stories bout their grandmother's bed. About how they and all of their siblings would be tucked into the same bed when visiting grandma. Or maybe the memory of jumping up and down on the bed would bring smiles to their faces.
I can't relate to that at all. If we ever jumped up and down on her bed, my grandmother would have beat us into unconsciousness with a broom stick. A family story has my grandmother locking the infant me in the car one night because my crying was keeping her awake.
This in no way is intended to give the impression that I don't have fond memories of my grandmother. Quite the contrary, we often tell wonderful tales about her. It's just that none of them is connected to a bed. She would never have hit us with a broom stick. The business end of a broom is another matter entirely.
Tomorrow is a travel day. I'm heading back home, to Jodi. And here, we come full circle. I am really looking forward to sleeping in my own bed once again.
My parent's spare bedroom has a fantastic bed that has been around since we were kids. It's an antique with a really high headboard. Family legend says that a ghost named Matilda lives in the headboard. My parents used the story as a way of keeping us from jumping up and down on the bed (their bed at the time) when we were young. Which is better than beating us with a broom stick.
Still, I am really looking forward to sleeping in my own bed with my own pillows. No broom sticks please.
I'll post again on Wednesday. Have a great Tuesday folks.
tim mcmurdo 