spark

243/365: sedate

This was all I could muster today.  To be honest, I'd almost rather not pick up a camera at all most days lately.  Perfect time for uninspiration links like this one from friends.  "We have to keep on making things." 

Fare thee well, August. 

242/365: embody

Isn't this just the very essence of summer?  It's almost as if, here at the end of it, it has been condensed into a sticky residue that is the sweetest, most concentrated form of the season.  Yum.

241/365: wow

The crib has been dismantled after 7 1/2 years.  It wasn't in constant use - babies were in and out of our bed and there were times when the crib sat waiting for the next sibling - but it has been a fixture in our home since very shortly after Griffin was born. 

It's real, there are no more babies. The next couple of weeks are going to be ENORMOUS.  Tonight Xander sleeps in one of the twin-sized beds that I used as a child and that his brothers used before we had bunk beds and that my great-aunt used in my family's ancient history. Next week he visits his new preschool, the same one his brothers attend/ed.  The week after that, for the first time, all three children will be in school.  Sure, only for one day of that week, and two of them will only have a half day, but still: all three children will be in school. 

And just like that, one era ends and another begins.

238/365: reflection

237/365: mourn

Sometimes I think he's growing right in front of my eyes.  The shoes that fit last week are too small this week.  The unclimbable tree becomes a favorite perch.  He and his brothers have all stretched out this summer, a tribe of lanky limbs and ropey muscles. 

Griffin is all about puns, all of a sudden, a mini master of double entendre.  I'm talking to a friend about a previous conversation, and Griff chimes in on the subject, saying, "Oh, I overheard you" and then stopping and smiling and saying "I really did over-hear you, I was in the tree."

As much as I feel so ready to be out of the baby days, I worry already that it's over too soon.  Will I regret the passing of these moments?  Will the benefits of the new phases outweigh the lost snuggly babies and little-boy preciousness, or, as strangers in grocery stores seem to indicate via their comments, are the best days already over?  I don't really miss two-year-old Griffin, toddler Reese, newborn Xander, because I have their modern incarnations with me.  Will I miss their current selves once those have gone?

236/365: antique

Old VEPCO adjustable levee near Brown's Island, looking Southward across the river.  I wish I knew what "more moose" meant.  

235/365: magnanimous

I slid out of the car and adjusted my shirt, swung my purse onto my shoulder.  It glowed red against my khaki and black.  A woman waiting with her child on the sidewalk caught my eye and I smiled at her briefly before heading in and grabbing my purchases without much thought.  Berries out of season.  Cookies that I wouldn't have to bake myself. I had forgotten to bring a reusable bag with me; I took a plastic one. 

Outside the store, the woman and her child still waited.  She caught my eye again, caught me off guard.  "Can you help us get something to eat?" 

My bag contained only party food.  I could share the berries, but it would inconvenience me and not really nourish them.  I conducted a mental inventory of my wallet.  No small bills.  I considered lying about not having cash.  I considered the risks of my cash being spent on something besides food.  I considered the child, the woman, my skepticism that she was telling the truth, my desire to believe that people are always telling the truth.  

I handed over a bill larger than I would normally offer. Who am I kidding, I don't normally offer at all, my skepticism being what it is.  "God bless," I said, feeling foolish and awkward.  I don't believe in God and even if I did, it seems like an almost dismissive thing to say, and wasn't that what I was doing, dismissing them? They hurried away.  Away from the grocery store.  

I wanted to trust that the money would be spent on food.  I upbraided myself for this, because now the money was theirs and they could do what they wished with it.  I chided myself for doubting that it would buy food, because after all, the store where I had just met them is not the only source of stuff to eat.  My route home took me past them as they crossed the street to a convenience store, walked past the door, walked down the sidewalk.  Toward the liquor store.  I thought about making a purchase in the ABC store myself, catching them in the act.  How bitchy would that be?  And what act, the act of spending their own money?  I drove away instead. 

Later, I enjoyed glasses of wine with friends and wondered where that bill was spent.  I wondered why I begrudge a beggar a glass of wine, a shot of whiskey.

I hope it bought a meal, but if it didn't, that's ok, too.  Maybe what's more important than the money I share is the trust I'm being asked to give with it.  Maybe if I can give that, I can feed myself, too.

234/365: gifted

This is my beautiful and talented friend Aimee, who practices and teaches yoga and may be one of the dreamiest souls I know. She and I got together today to combine our passions and what resulted was more than yoga or photography, it's like a love poem about the strength, flexibility, and beauty of the human body.  I'm really grateful that she shared her gift with me!

233/365: joy-full

Reunited with my lenses after a week, free for the afternoon to take back roads, make a one-hour trip last three, explore nature and enjoy all the things I notice when the car is quiet and I am the master of my own space and time. 

An afternoon in Louisa.

232/365: innovative

Last weekend, while evacuating bins of loaned-and-returned baby gear and three children and saying goodbye to siblings, my camera bag was left behind at my brother's house.  STUPID, eh? What a responsible photographer.  I had help in loading the car (never do this) and the result was that I assumed that Dan had loaded the bag in the back, and Dan didn't realize I had the bag with me, and thirty minutes down the road, I looked around and asked, "do you know if my lenses are in the back?" and Dan didn't know, and we opted not to check right then, because the kids were rammy and if worse came to worst, I'd just go back the following weekend. 

Two minutes later, my brother called.  Funny how differently you feel about making a second road trip when you know you're going to *have* to make it, instead of being certain that it's only a distant possibility.  Still, the prospect of getting to drive alone through the country and see these little guys again so soon is rather nice.  Throw in a Chinese buffet with my bro & SIL, and you've got a pretty swell Saturday afternoon.  (And on the professional responsibility, would-you-hire-this-person front: I totally would have turned around if it had been a gig or if I'd had a gig soon. She defensively adds.)

In the meantime, though, I was left with just my 50mm lens all week, and by Thursday, I was tired of it and not inspired in the slightest.  That probably would have happened even with all my lenses at my fingertips, but let's blame the limited equipment anyway.  So today, it was the end of the day and I had no desire to touch the camera, and I realized that I needed an assignment if I was going to make good on my 365(ish) promise to myself.

That's when I remembered reversed-lens macro.  I've never tried it.  I don't have any adapters to make it easy.  So I just took the lens, unscrewed it, and hand-held it on the camera.  The results were heinously difficult to focus, and from what I can tell I have very little control over aperture (depth of focus).  The lady up there is my first attempt.  Not horrible.  And it made me want to try again sometime, but perhaps with a little equipment assistance.  We shall see.  At the very least, trying something new opens my eyes to different possibilities and sends me into the weekend a little more inspired.

Are you trying anything NEW?