I struggled finding a subject that hinted at mystery using shadows and the so-called Golden Hour for dramatic effect.
Eventually I hit upon two possibilities.
What mysteries do you see?
Photo Theme: Mystery
The Ripples They Cause
Word of the Week certainly fits the mold of a regular feature.
Last week’s word was discovery. This week’s word is . . .
LOSS
Late last week, my sister posted to my Facebook:
Truly the end of an era, people are wondering who will supply their dinner rolls and cookies with frosted faces and donuts and cakes and – most importantly – lebkuchen.
However, all is not lost. There are rumors the bakery will be bought – property, machines, expertise – and the tradition continue. In addition, I received a parcel:
Three Lebkuchen! Thanks, Mom!
I’m not as desperate financially able as the woman who cleared out her freezer and ordered fifty dozen lebkuchen.
FIFTY DOZEN
At ten dollars per dozen, that’s quite a bit of dough.
Pun intended.
Then there’s the loss the world is talking about:
Sir Terry Pratchett
I doubt there’s anything I can say here that hasn’t been said elsewhere.
I have no story of how I met him or saw him or received an autographed book as a gift. Nevertheless, he influenced my life in ways few authors have. In those terms, he’s part of my Triad:
Dante
Tolkien
Pratchett
His books have been out since the early eighties, but I only discovered the Disc in 2008 or so with the Hogfather DVD American release. Having loved the film, I tracked down the book; looking back, it may not be the best introduction to Discworld, but I was hooked. Soon most extra money went to purchasing more of Pratchett’s works, and I found myself emotionally invested in Rincewind and Granny Weatherwax and Gythia Ogg and Havelock Vetinari and Sam Vines and Moist von Lipwig and DEATH.
As Iain Sutherland wrote on the change.org petition that DEATH return Sir Terry:
Terry Pratchett turned Death from a figure of hate into a much loved and sometimes welcomed character. No-one else cared about you Death.
You owe him!
I’ve never cried about the death of a celebrity or other public figure . . . until now.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was crying not as much for Sir Terry, but for the end of the Disc.
Does that make me selfish?
I’ll never understand why I’m such a selfish man.
Sir Terry’s death also makes me angry.
Angry for the loss of literary wonder.
Angry at the Alzheimer’s that took him far too early.
Angry at the unfairness of it all.
Another petitioner on change.org wrote
It is like when you lose that relative who you didn’t know very well, but they helped you get through some really tough time and you always meant to call or write, and now it’s too late.
It’s times like these that make us wonder what makes it all worthwhile. Sir Terry had the answer:
“I meant," said Ipslore bitterly, "what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?" Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually. CATS ARE NICE.”
When it comes down to it, I just don’t know what to say. So I’ll read instead, savoring every line and turn of phrase and share the ones that speak to me. Because although Sir Terry is gone,
No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.
May Sir Terry’s ripples go on forever.
The Horses are Coming
Can you hear the locomotive
Over wooden trestles running?
Now and then its whistle plaintive
Names the letter Q. Now coming
Ever closer, see the native
Coal-steam rising and billowing,
Towering and authoritative.
The title for this post comes from “Dog Days are Over” by Florence and the Machine:
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run
Here Comes the Sun
The recent time change seems to have affected me more this year than any other year.
My colleagues tell me it’s because I’m getting older.
“Just wait ’til you’re our age!” they say.
But the benefit to the change is I can see things like this:
The sun rose slowly, as if it wasn't sure it was worth all the effort. ~ Sir Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic
The Color of the Season
Winter in eastern North Carolina comes in one color: brown.
Winter rains transform open ground into a morass of dirt and mud, covered by the winter winds with a blanket of dead leaves and pine straw, leaving barren trees standing as skeletal sentinels waiting for spring’s resurrection.
In this scene of seasonal tedium I discovered a hint of things to come:
Our assignment was this:
Capture the natural world with your camera: document a moment outside, big or small. From a panorama snapped during your morning hike to a close-up of a leaf in your yard, we invite you to document this wondrous world around us.
Can’t go outside? Photograph something — furniture, architecture, etc. — that looks or feels organic, or mimics the shapes and movements of nature.
Today’s Tip: Exploring the outdoors, with camera in hand, is an opportunity to look for natural lines that lead our eyes to different parts of a frame. Envision the bend of a stream, or the curve of a petal: how can you use these lines in your composition? If you see strong vertical, horizontal, or diagonal lines, can you play with the orientation to create a more dynamic composition? Can you apply — or break — the “Rule of Thirds“?
I find a sort of beauty in the asymmetrical radial lines of the pine cone against the horizontal wood grain.
I’m also kind of proud; this is the first time I can recall producing any sort of natural soft focus in the background.
What do you think?
That Ghostly Galleon
Yesterday’s big perspective theme stumped me . . . until I arrived at work this morning.
As I walked outside, I looked up, expecting the same overcast, cloudy sky obscuring the morning moon.
To my surprise, the clouds had begun to dissipate, their rapid movement permitting brief glimpses of a majestic silver orb suspended in a sea of blue.
I ran inside to the science supplies, grabbed the telescope I’d been experimenting with, rushed out to the nearly-empty parking lot, and pointed the sighting lens at my target.
After a few brief adjustments, everything was in place. Lacking a camera mount and unable to correctly focus the telescope, I did the next best thing: I placed my camera against the sighting lens, manually focused, and clicked when I thought the frame appeared decent.
I took six photographs overall, but only one captured the moon with minimal shake.
I’ll let you be the judge of any relative success:
For Perspective
My First Attempt at Shooting the Moon!
Running In My Head 