“What’s that?” you ask. “Creativity.” If all else fails…fake it!
Another of my addictions is the moon.
How many pictures does one need of it?
Well, there’s always the chance that the next one will be a stunner. Or not.
This was two nights ago.
My camera and I have a love-hate relationship.
What I wanted was a zoom lens.
But, inevitably, it came with hundreds more options, most of which I cannot comprehend.
The “book of words” may as well be in ancient Greek.
Which I don’t speak.
It could be that I am too lazy to make the attempt to overcome the difficulties.
But the minute I start to read the instructions,
it’s like when you drop fat onto a hot frying pan.
My brain fries.
Periodically, I try again, but it’s always the same.
Besides which, even if I could learn all those modes,
for sure when I wanted a shot, it’d be in the wrong one.
My old camera, in the dark ages, had a few things to fiddle with, but it was a manual adjustment.
Quick twist, re-focus. Simple.
Now it’s all digital.
You know what? Old fingers, digital, not so much.
Not when they are arthritic.
Not when you can’t see what you’re doing.
It’s a conspiracy against old people.
Alright, bad word, it’s discrimination.
Just another excuse, I know.
Have you seen the photographs of Thomas Mangelsen?
Or Art Wolfe? Just for example. They are my age.
But they have been at it all their lives.
Which proves that there’s always another image to capture.
So when all else fails, improvise.
My friend Tim always told me “darling, just make it up as you go along.”
Which I have often had to do.
It’s amazing how creative you can get when necessary.
My Mum was brilliant at it.
As I say, it’s not the first time I’ve “shot” the moon.
And in the past I sometimes got good results.
Same camera, same setting.
I think. The one thing I mastered is “re-set”.
Last night every shot was different. How?
This was the best. It was very yellow as it rose.
Certainly nothing to write home about. So I thought “right, then let’s just play…”
My Mac editor has a whole slew of settings and adjustments, so I fiddled and twiddled:
My Dad would probably shudder. After all, he was both an artist and a photographer.
I’ve always wondered what he would have done with digital photography.
Besides curse, that is.
Grant was inside cursing too.
He gets moon-madness.
Another night photograph was a vain hope to prove that this was Mrs Plod, who’s not been seen since October.
But sadly wishing doesn’t make it so.
Maybe she’s asleep somewhere, or maybe she’s moved on.
We’ll probably never know.
The moral of this little post script: don’t get involved with wildlife.
We didn’t really. We just observed. But how do you not care about an animal that copes with life in the wild in spite of being badly injured, blind and deaf? She was around all summer and we always wanted to cheer for her.
Just a little old possum, doing her thing, totally oblivious of the love we tried to radiate her way.
She couldn’t possibly know, or benefit from our love.
But is it ever a bad thing, to send out love somewhere?
God Bless, Mrs Plod, wherever you are XX.