Day on Suwannee

A walk along the Suwannee to clear the mind and enjoy the first signs of Spring. Again, carried way too much equipment. Shoulder was worn out by the time I returned. Must find a lighter, high quality system to replace this heavy Nikon gear I cling to.

Man of constant sorrow

i had to revert to the third camera in the bag, the old Canon S95 for this. I was unable to find the self-timer mode on the S100. I hate it how Canon updates their cameras, changing things that worked just fine, hiding things in menus. The S95 was the right combination, able to take long exposures with adjusting up the ISO, a setting they changed on the S100, not allowing long exposures. The newer versions now sport WiFi, but haven't really improved otherwise.
after lugging all the heavy Nikon equipment today, I found I again got better results with the S100. I know how to manipulate the settings better, I do not have to fuss with the exposure like I do the Nikon.
when, if and ever i am able to afford it, i am seriously considering a micro four thirds camera system for the lightweight ability. i am perfectly content with just carrying the S100, it would be a real bonus if it had a hot shoe, allowing off camera flash.

Bell Springs

Around four today I decided to take a drive up to Bell Springs. Arriving, I found the gate locked. I drove around to Ann's house adjacent to the property and parked in her field. A short hike down the Florida Trail and the once large,long pond that once was dammed by Monroe Morrell, Ann's husband, was gone. The SRWMD is in the process of restoring the stream run to original condition, though from what I saw, it has a long way to go. The rocks are quite unnatural looking and the entire area quite unimaginative. We can only surmise what it will look like in several years when landscaping is done, of any.
I walked along the Suwannee as far as Roaring Creek, then hiked back. I was looking for signs of the wild Azalea, but it was too early. In another month or two.
The large alligator was sunning on the bank on my return trip. I was able to see Ann and she showed me her studio and latest work. She is quite the artist. One of the best metal sculptures around. Always wins when she enters.

Spring Forward Sunday

It was a wonderful Spring-like day, breezy and warm. I took a five o'clock journey out to Alligator Lake. With the new time, the park would stay open until seven. I strolled along the dike, stopped and talked to Rita, an old friend from Reporter days, along with her husband Steve. She said Steve may have need from time to time for my photography, so I left a card.
Took the D3100 with the 18-200 and a film days polarizing filter, the canon s100 with the film canister flash diffuser. Light as possible. Turns out, seven came quickly and I had to hurry back to the car.
I am continuing to work on the exposure and metering of the D3100, usually reverting to manual exposure to get the proper saturation's. Otherwise, I find the exposure is too light. It could be my use of spot metering. One camera that has no problem with the exposure is the Canon S100. It usually gives pleasing results, the only thing necessary is often to balance the flash with the daylight.
There were not many keepers,but days out a Alligator are more therapy and practice.

You will never outgrow grace

We were leaving Charlies Restaurant in Crystal River when the three people bowed and held hands in prayer over their meal. I had the Canon S100 out and took a quick snap blind as I walked past. It was a good testimony on their part as to public prayer. It was the only photograph I published this Sunday.
It is also a deeper metaphor for we are never too old to experience a flood of God's grace in our lives. Many instances in the Bible of God visiting and extending grace to the elderly. So I take hope in the coming days.

Quixote swords

Took the mountain bike out of the shed where it has rested for three months at least, rusting chain. Oiled it up and took off for Rossi Road, with no intention, other than to see where the moon was. I found it returning home directly overhead. I stopped and took photographs of the violets in the ditch, lately blooming due to all the rain, which was still streaming in the ditches. Just cool enough yet for a sweat shirt, I rode out to 100 where I made the previous blog photograph of the wonderful, beautiful end of the line.

Beautiful, wonderful end of the line

Well, not every concept or photograph is a success. After no likes and only 48 views, I deleted this photograph. It was a deliberate taking of a mundane photograph and going way over with the saturation and color to achieve what I was attempting to convey, the beauty of coming to the end of the line. That point in our lives where our attempts at trying to gain favor with God and man come to an end. We cannot buy our way into heaven. We are going there on the basis of grace alone. There are times I deeply feel I am not of the chosen, so fraught in sin and failure spiritually, continually. I have flickers of faith but mostly, lately I have been a very dark moon orbiting.

Christ in the Camp

It was Chaplain Joey Young's first service in the authentic confederate camp as a chaplain. There were less than a dozen men gathered about the fire waiting. He had his Chaplin straw hat with cross insignia, his KJV bible, his bell, pocket watch and black tails. About the nine o'clock hour for service, he reached down, checking the time again before picking up the hat, then the bible and bell to toll the service. I was ready with one shot. Moments occur like this and are never again to be repeated, sometimes re-created.
This was around 2009. Each year since, I try and attend Chaplin Young's service, which grew this year to over three dozen or more. Even though he uses the Armenian way of raising the hand at the end of the service, I still like to listen to him. There are other Chaplains in camps, some better than others, some worse.
It is one of the things I look forward to on each Sunday morning during Olustee.
This print is available at the gallery in 11x14.
I recently sold a 5x7 version.

between a dream

as i rounded the corner of 250 and Country Club for home, the sun setting to my right, i pointed the camera and shot as the large oak came into view between the two roadside trees. It blurred the large black tree nicely, keeping the background relatively sharp. I doctored it up in post processing by adding HDR affect slightly, warming, brilliance, about anything I could do to give it a dreamy affect. I even took out the black light wire between the two trees. So in a way, it is more of a painting than a photograph, at least, a representation, impression. It goes to show, one does not always need a stationary platform in which to make photographs. Many of my photographs are from moving vehicles. I have no qualms about it. It adds the element of mystery, of surprise. Sometimes it works, other times it falls flat. Part of the fun.

Pray,Maiden,Pray

Not the song I wanted to play. Bobby Horton's song, Pray,Maiden,Pray in his volume 4 CSA Songs, is much more appropriate. I will try and download it to the computer and place it here eventually. I think the photograph is from the 2009 Olustee. Fortunately, I have Smug Mug, and I have at least saved several years from Olustee there. Other years lost to computer crashes.
I was really drawn to the little maiden with her mother, or granny, in the petticoats. One shot, just as good, has her looking up at her granny. I deliberately toned it down to evoke more of a nostalgic feel to it.

Take me out

Take me out coach...set me on the bench..between the blackness... take me from the ball hogging...my vain dribbling...just so Kenny...or Penny...or Calvin...can throw it up...the gym isn't even the same...not even the game...all shook and jive...each man for himself...no limit they say...to the me...me....me....take me way, way back...when I was a cub in Kentucky...the boys rotated through the options....waiting for the open man...at the end of the play...not the first pass...after crossing center court....to Orville and the JV...a West Virginia protege...of West and how to play....telling me...you could go far....far....and then the blackness came....and I was no longer the answer from Kentucky...just another spastic white boy....out of place...in this place....of such blackness....

Oh March

Oh March, come not again...we have yet to recover from the taking...of two-eleven...eight-thirty...Luther Ray...daddy....preacher...too large in life to die...Oh March...come not again...I have written...to Japan...and...nothing...over there...is a grandson...who loved me...more than his own....gone....a year since seeing him...this March....Oh March...coming for Melanie...taking the job...perfect for her...making her...return to the fields...the highways...the hedges...leaving us again....wondering....from whence comes the groceries...Oh March...we are in lock step with you...boots laced and breeches tucked....goose stepping....saluting....obeying....parading...tears hiding...prisoners of March....march...march.