Morning shoot…check, Go Far grant submitted…check, run with Peter…check, a slow roasted chicken dinner…check+
For the first time in a long while, I got today’s list all done. I sat and watched the Tour de France cringing as the brave cyclist slipped their way around turns. One almost lost his life to a thousand foot drop off. On that note I decided that the day didn’t need to end on a tragic note. So I picked up the camera bag, gave my husband a kiss and confessed I may not be back until bedtime. I hit the top of Miller Road and played "eeny, meeny, miny, moe". The left hand turn would bring me towards urban Middletown, right to bucolic Durham. I love not having any particular place to go. It’s usually when the best opportunities arise. I drove by Davinci’s Pizza and hooked a sharp left. Soon I would be sitting at the end of a long driveway contemplating entering. I get gutsy…knock, knock…nothing. I hear news radio 880 loudly through the screen door. “Hellloooooooo” I scream. “Maybe I have over done it and they’ll come out with a shotgun”, I think to myself. I head back to the car and out comes a man my age. He finds it shocking that I would want to photograph his family’s dilapidated old barn. He ask if he should clean it up and have me come back another day. I chuckle and tell him the grittier the better. The sun lowers behind the barn and I start shooting. He has become curious why this complete stranger lay on the ground, camera stuck to her face? He’s thinking "she's crazy" and all I can think is,"it’s about time…I got the shot". It may not be perfect by any means. It may score low in competition, but who really cares if you feel some type of passion about what the way you capture something. Soon, a much older man comes out in true Connecticut yankee style. He looks at me untrustingly. The son eases his father’s nerves and soon the old man realizes our kinship in the barn that lay ahead. His weathered smile needs to be memorized, as he won’t pose in front of the old beauty. The years remaining for this barn are short numbered. He points out his collection of birds. “Facinating”, I think to myself that no one ever sees this when driving by this farm as they go to pick up their pizza. I feel more content than ever and the evening has just begun. I will journey further into Middletown as the sun sets and capture more, but I feel today’s miracle deep in my heart and truly need little else. Maybe it is the warmth of summer that has me in this ebullient state. The contentment could be born out of the historian in me that feels like I have done my job. Either way, it feels as good as it gets.
For the first time in a long while, I got today’s list all done. I sat and watched the Tour de France cringing as the brave cyclist slipped their way around turns. One almost lost his life to a thousand foot drop off. On that note I decided that the day didn’t need to end on a tragic note. So I picked up the camera bag, gave my husband a kiss and confessed I may not be back until bedtime. I hit the top of Miller Road and played "eeny, meeny, miny, moe". The left hand turn would bring me towards urban Middletown, right to bucolic Durham. I love not having any particular place to go. It’s usually when the best opportunities arise. I drove by Davinci’s Pizza and hooked a sharp left. Soon I would be sitting at the end of a long driveway contemplating entering. I get gutsy…knock, knock…nothing. I hear news radio 880 loudly through the screen door. “Hellloooooooo” I scream. “Maybe I have over done it and they’ll come out with a shotgun”, I think to myself. I head back to the car and out comes a man my age. He finds it shocking that I would want to photograph his family’s dilapidated old barn. He ask if he should clean it up and have me come back another day. I chuckle and tell him the grittier the better. The sun lowers behind the barn and I start shooting. He has become curious why this complete stranger lay on the ground, camera stuck to her face? He’s thinking "she's crazy" and all I can think is,"it’s about time…I got the shot". It may not be perfect by any means. It may score low in competition, but who really cares if you feel some type of passion about what the way you capture something. Soon, a much older man comes out in true Connecticut yankee style. He looks at me untrustingly. The son eases his father’s nerves and soon the old man realizes our kinship in the barn that lay ahead. His weathered smile needs to be memorized, as he won’t pose in front of the old beauty. The years remaining for this barn are short numbered. He points out his collection of birds. “Facinating”, I think to myself that no one ever sees this when driving by this farm as they go to pick up their pizza. I feel more content than ever and the evening has just begun. I will journey further into Middletown as the sun sets and capture more, but I feel today’s miracle deep in my heart and truly need little else. Maybe it is the warmth of summer that has me in this ebullient state. The contentment could be born out of the historian in me that feels like I have done my job. Either way, it feels as good as it gets.
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