Together Again

I'm sharing two photos that I took this week with my first digital camera. That camera was a Fuji FinePix V10 that was introduced in 2006. It boasted a 5MP sensor and a large 3-inch display screen. Reviewers called it quirky but praised it for its high ISO performance. My motivation for purchasing it was that it was priced $300 cheaper than the Nikon entry-level DSLR. Price was a critical element in my decision to move from film to digital. My concern, at the time, was how I would embrace digital after shooting film all those years. The feel of my sturdy metal Nikon FM did not engender confidence as I held the plastics found in the new entry-level digital DSLRs. Would digital stay, or would it go the way of New Coke?

I charged the battery, and the 20-year-old Fuji lit up once again like familiar old face -- together again.  I took it to morning coffee to show a friend what digital looked like in its genesis. While there, I took the photo below. The metal chair backs at the coffee shop had cutouts of coffee cups. Their design piqued my interest, prompting me to photograph one and enhance the cutout portions by applying a dual warming filter to add some vibrancy. The result struck me as looking like a logo for the place. That quirkiness the reviewers expressed in their reviews perhaps referred to the buyers of this camera. 

While driving home, I encountered the dogwalkers walking down a rural road near my home. I was impressed by the number of dogs present and how each walker successfully controlled the eight dogs they were walking that day. They were spread out across the narrow country road and no tangled leashes were noted. Since the little Fugi was in the console of the car, I called upon it to capture a scene as it did some twenty years ago. When I got home and reviewed the photo, I noticed that there were four walkers. The fourth walker is hidden behind the middle walker, bringing the total number of dogs to thirty-two. I was also impressed with how the dog's eyes were fixed on me. I wish it were that simple to photograph groups of humans in the same way. 

My title for this week's blog emerged from the deep "hillbilly" recesses of my subconscious, bringing to mind the old Buck Owens country classic "Together Again." 

The love I once knew
Is living again
And nothing else matters
We're together again

 

Suddenly, Squill

Each spring a small, vibrant, blue plant emerges abruptly and carpets the ground before the grasses take over a week later. Their appearance each spring is an assuring and magical sight.  It is as if elves were granted power to landscape secret places for only one week. Most spring signs emerge in soft pastels, but the Siberian squill bursts forward with intense color, trumpeting spring's return.

The small flowers stand as testimony that there are recurring patterns in life that remain steadfast even when our daily lives seem much less predictable.  As we approach Easter, the story of resurrection gains prominence, bringing the promise of hope and abundance. For this reason, the true blue squill brings me awe and comfort each year. 

              “Where flowers bloom, so does hope.” — Lady Bird Johnson