Category: An Ordinary Day
An Ordinary Day #50
Driving the backroads and in the blink of an eye, you see it. A flash of orange and yellow. Mostly, you see the light and how it’s hitting the leaves and not much else. Gotta shoot that tree…
You turn the car around in some crazy driveway and drive back to what you hope you saw, trying to find a place to pull the car over and park. Gotta shoot that tree…
A driveway that screams: “PRIVATE” is the only option. You park there anyway. Gotta shoot that tree…
Carefully crossing a busy country road, with a blind hill on one end and a 90 degree curve at the other, you stand in the darkness of the woods. Never mind the drivers in the cars that are flying by you. Gotta shoot that tree…
The perfect location seems elusive (if the evergreen tree was just a few more feet to the right), but you stand your ground because the light isn’t the same anywhere else. Gotta shoot that tree…
A few frames and you’re out of there–can’t leave the car in that private drive too long!
Success? Maybe.
Love watching and finding the light. Don’t you?
An Ordinary Day #49
Fall is in the Air Chair.
Beautiful Fall morning in northern Indiana.
Orange pumpkins, golden leaves, white chairs and wind!
Windy wind!
An Ordinary Day #48
An Ordinary Day #47
As if, getting older isn’t harder enough!
I arrive home from a long-overdue eye exam, where I ordered a new pair of bifocals
(yes, I said NEW bifocals),
and this lovely mailer is in my mail box.
Don’t get me wrong, I am fine with my age, mostly because I act like a 12 year old,
but receiving cards like this in the mail…well, it just screams OLD LADY!
Personally, I think the card would have been more tolerable,
if it had been mailed along with a copy of
Nora Ephron’s book, I Feel Bad About My Neck.
At least then, I could have had a good laugh!
“We all look good for our age. Except for our necks.” ~~Nora Ephron
An Ordinary Day #46
Second year, moving in.
Apartment living with new friends.
Building beds and talking about shower curtains.
Those bittersweet moments when you watch your kids grow up and move on.