Sometimes, gritty reality sets in. Sometimes, you realize that having a Lovely Lazy Weekend means that you have no time left during the week for decent blogging. Sometimes, you realize that your readers probably don’t want to hear any more of your thoughts about work being too busy and retirement being just a week or two further than you wish it could be. And sometimes, even though you could find a minute or two for writing a semi-decent post, you’re really determined to fit in an hour’s run in the morning before work, instead.
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| Such a delight that there is enough light these days, by 7, to head out the door without a headlamp. |
But I do have some photos** I took on my long run Sunday — I brought the camera along because I wanted an excuse to take breaks — 26 kilometres was a push. Could those photos count as a “lick and a promise”? I’ve got some post ideas, and I have a bit more time tomorrow. Honestly, I’m a bit distracted right now — thoughts on a certain baby due to arrive in the next week or so, another a few weeks after that. . .
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| Brief tussle with self: I could just stay home longer and enjoy the view with a second up of tea. |
But I push out the door and am quickly rewarded. . .
Sunrise through the trees on the East side of the island softens magically as I round to the West side, facing the city’s harbour just across the water. . .
The herons will soon be back, we hope, to raise another few families. For now, the leaf-bare trees allow a clear view of the avian architecture.
Another harbinger of warmer days to come. . .
An abandoned cabin on a long-vacant lot, working its way back to the earth. . . .
I’m looking for excuses to stop, by this point, my camera lens eager for a focus. Lichen on an ancient lilac tree,
and White Fawn Lilies (Erythronium oregonum) poking their spotted leaves through leaf mulch
and lusciously verdant moss
and new shoots on the native Indian Plum and a pond bubbling over with water lily pads. . .
That life, it just keeps burgeoning and renewing and insisting on us looking for and at the beautiful. Since I began this post, I’ve heard some sad news about an old friend, and it’s always there, that potential. Not to minimize, not to reconcile, because the sad hits hard. But I think I can almost hold it together if I hold them together, the sad and the beautiful. . .
**In this beautifully illustrated, thoughtful post, blogger Annie Cholewa wonders who might legitimately call themselves photographers and how and why we might decide that, whether we should try to. Clearly, these photos will show you, I’m not a photographer, but perhaps you can sense the image I’m trying to coax onto the page. As I’ve written before,one of my goals for retirement is to learn how to use my cameras better. . .
Those are lovely photos. I especially love the lichen shot because it captures the texture so well.
I'd love to really capture the intricacy of the lichen more sharply — but thank you!
Lovely post. Beautiful photos..
TY!
I love the colour of the White Fawn Lily leaves. It will be a while still before we see any green on the ground, so it's a treat to see it in your photos.
They're really rich — the mottling makes the lighter green almost glow. . .
When we hike up hills and I lose my breath, I often use the excuse of a photography break! It seems to work well.
I read Annie's post. In the same way that one who writes is encouraged to think of herself as a writer, one who takes photos for pleasure, not only profit, can also call herself a photographer. Amateur, perhaps, but finding delight through the lens offers a new way of looking at the world.
I'm always hesitant to claim labels for myself, fearing "imposter" accusations (even just from my inner judge), but I do love framing images, viewing the world that way just for my own pleasure, and then it's lovely to share that.
The pond photo is so compelling.
Thanks, Lisa. I really liked all the layers from foreground to background. . .
Your island has such lovely bones!
;-)!
Me too Mater…not a photographer, I mean. Your efforts are so much better than mine. I love the idea of your long runs. You have my undying admiration for persevering with running. I miss it. Been -20-something here for way too long. Too cold to ski most days. I'll focus on your images instead of the pile of white stuff out my window.
I'm not sure my running perseverance deserves admiration, but thanks. It's been a simple and efficient de-stressing way to stay fit and that I'm really surprised I've come to enjoy. Now that I'll be retired, might get a chance, like you, to add some x-country skiing to the mix — now that's a workout!
I'll have to go over to read the post you recommend. I'll also have to think about those labels. Whatever we call ourselves, when we share our world we make it smaller, encourage dialogue, reach out…..so maybe we should say we're Ambassadors if we are applying labels. I enjoyed your photos today – snapshots of the unique place you call home, a different view of a city I know quite well and encouragement to think about the way I see my world as I go about my regular rounds.
I like that idea — and yes, really, all I'm trying to do is share what I see, and perhaps begin a conversation. . . Call me an Ambassador! 😉
I think we are all photographers, just of different kinds. You have conveyed a wonderful sense of place in these images. With so many photographs in circulation, perhaps maybe what we need is a new vocabularly for this new visual currency.
Thank you for the llink 🙂