Looking Through The Lens

(It wasn’t an outright question so much as a raised eyebrow of disbelief. But you see…) 

There is a shift that my brain makes when taking pictures, where it goes from what catches the attention of the naked eye to what can be captured through the camera lens.

Some times the shift is hard to make.

It takes more concentration than I have if I’m talking or multitasking so I don’t often take many pictures in a group of people. Instead I make the shift most often when I’m on my own.

When there is no one to tell me to hurry up (except the dogs and they never mind if I fall behind) and nothing to distract me. Then when my focus shifts I can find hundreds of tiny details and shapes that I want to try and capture.

I fiddle with my camera as I experiment with the best ways for it to help me catch the possibility I see in my mind.

I bless the digital camera gods as I snap and review, fiddle and adjust, and snap some more.

Once I’ve started looking through the lens everything seems photogenic if I can just catch the right light, angle, focus, background…

When it comes time to review pictures on the computer there are more misses in my captures than keepers.

And many pictures like these geometric shapes that caught my eye…

…still look just like the rabbit poop and dried corn leaves that they really are.

(And that, Honey, is why I took a picture of rabbit poop.)



Leaf Pile

Happiness is a pile of leaves!

The Second Child

I’m sure you’ve heard that saying about how you worry less about your second child because you’ve been through it all before.

The problem is I was never super worried with the first child.

Today Ivy, Clara and I made a big leaf pile at my parents house for the two girls to jump in.

As we were playing I thought Clara had a stick.

It was not a stick.

It was a dead shrew.

She was about to put it in her mouth.

Not completely lacking in the worry/grossed out department I leaped the leaf pile and took it away.

Ivy of course was fascinated by the small dead thing and wanted to know what it was and speculate on what killed it. (Yes, I realize that this is kind of strange but at least she’s got the idea of what dead means, and how food chains work.)

As Ivy and I were checking it out I noticed both it’s front legs were missing and it looked very, fresh…

As I threw it into the woods I decided that it couldn’t have been my second daughter, the girl who eats everything, who ate the legs.



Then we went back to jumping in leaves.

It’s possible a bit more worry in my life might have been a good thing.