Whence Cometh Thou?

Come with me as we enter the sanctum of the cypress, the haven of the unseen creeping in the shadows beyond the barb wire boundary.
The Alligator Lake Park was our destination this morning just after 9AM. Arriving, I was greeted by a hiker yelling inaudibly to me. I rode over to where he was. Excited, he said there were wild boars in the woods, to be careful.
He seemed genuinely frightened. Amused, it was my desire hopefully to come upon these vicous tuskers!
Rounding the trail and opening into the open canopy of oaks, something lay in the trail ahead. Was it a boar? I got off the bike and crept closer to this sleeping wraith. Camera poised, I snapped. It awoke the creature. It lunged. It ran. It was a cream colored dog resembling a wolf. So much for boars.
Riding onward, I came to the bridge crossing Price Creek. I stopped and attempted photographs in the stifling humidity. Glasses fogging, feet slipping on the wet banks, mosquitos feasting upon soaken skin. The backlit scene was enticing, perhaps inviting. In my haste, I do not think it was given ample time to make a compelling composition.
Strapping the heavy camera bag over my shoulder, I embarked again on the journey. The load was made overtly heavy due to carrying the extremely heavy metal and glass old manual 180mm 2.8 with the equally heavy TC2o1 tele-extender attached. This duo weighs as much as my two Nikon D40's with both lenses attached! To make matters worse, I never used it today. Arriving to the location that leads outside the park, I leaned the bike against a sapling and set out. It was a short hike to the barb wire fence. I leaned under the lower rung, just scraping my bag on a barb and entered the realm of the cypress sentinels.
Creeping about, I heard ahead what was probably deer, not boar. Each slow deliberate step offered opportunity to photograph. The
routine was to stop, unpack the D40 with the 18-55 lens and flash cord. The other D40 with the 55-200 was around my neck. It got me to thinking how convenient it would be to have the 18-200 lens with one camera body. As it was, much time was spent going back and forth between the two. I did not venture too deeply back this day, due to the extreme heat. Turning back, I made my way to the park, the tail bone and upper legs hurting from yesterday's twenty mile bike ride.
Along the way, I stopped several times, once, following a mother turkey and her young chicks into the cedar tree grove off the trail. I was amazed how quickly she disappeared into this grove, as it was not that large, with only one escape route not hemmed in by water.
Upon reviewing the days "catch", I again lamented, as I usually do, the focus being off, the lighting being off, etc. It never gets any easier.
There is always room for improvement. That opens the opportunity to invite you to go with me again, another day.
Perhaps we shall come upon wild boars, have to scurry into the trees. It will be great fun. I look forward to it.

The Storm

Calm Before

This photograph was taken this evening in the koi pond in the front yard. This leopard frog is one of about three that dwell among the goldfish and single large koi. Today after finally finding the TC-201 tele-extender, I attached it to the Nikon 180mm f2.8, giving me a 360mm f4. On the Nikon DX D40, the telephoto range would be near 500mm.
With the D40, you can attach all old Nikon manual focus lenses, you just have to meter manually. This is usually not a problem, as you can "chimp", or look at the LCD screen upon taking a photograph to determine if you need to adjust exposure.
In this case, without tripod, I wanted to use a minimum shutter speed of 125.
In order to achieve this, with the frog in shadows, I had to up the ISO speed to 1600. The result was sharp for a setting of 1600.
After this photograph, I turned on the water hose and let is sprinkle upon the frogs head. This created a nice stirred up affect, thus the next set, called The Storm.

1387 Cline Feagle Road

Today I rode to this point. This is the mail box of Mr Cline Feagle, who died at this location in a house fire. The chimney of his old heart pine wooden house is seen standing in the background. Mr Feagle used to come in the store where I worked about once a month to get his old flashlight fixed. Often, nothing was wrong, and I would not have to charge him anything. He was always thankful and kind.
In my Facebook page under my notes, I wrote a tribute story to Mr Feagle called, Cline and the Coon. It is an imaginary story of Mr Feagle and his dog who went out for a Coon hunt with his trusty flashlight.

This July 21st, Wednesday evening, the Tour de France having completed stage 16, is on a rest day. It has taken me until this point to get out on the old 1991 steel Basso Gap Italian bicycle and go for a ride. I wore the simple kit consisting of a full zip white jersey, black lycra shorts and the Lake black shoes. The route was either up Rossi Road to Gateway College(LCCC) or south on Price Creek and possibilities. I chose possibilities. With the Canon A540 point and shoot powershot on the top bar in a Benko Bag, it was one o'clock when I pulled out with 110 pounds of tire pressure.
The route was decided as I rode past the octagonal church, scene of last years flare up of the pain in my arms when I accelerated up the incline. I would ride down Price Creek, turn right onto Alfred Markham at Hopeful Baptist and take it to Old Country Club. From Country Club to Feagle Road, Gabe, then back onto Price Creek. Along the way, several scenes revealed possibilities but I did not stop. Past Mr Mills house next to Myrtis Road, I again inwardly fumed at selling him the Jeep Grand Cherokee several years ago for only $600. He promptly fixed it up with a new engine and never misses the opportunity to tell me how great it is. At the time, I was angry with it leaving me stranded and just wanted rid of it. Bad move I would later learn.
Getting the anger over with, I rode on down Price Creek, up the little hill and turned right onto
Aldine Feagle, then left onto Cline Feagle. My destination was to ride to the bottom of the hill where Cline Feagle lived before dying in his house fire.
This is one of the most scenic roads in the county and I rode it slowly. At Clines, I stopped and reflected on the scene, trying to understand how he died in his truck, in his garage as the house burned. All he had to do was ram through it, but we shall never know.
Riding back the same route, I stopped several times to take photographs along Cline Feagle Road. The little camera is tricky with exposure and you really have to manipulate the shutter button carefully, locking in the exposure you want. I got is right some of the time.
No shots were of any great significance. Just recordings of a ride. The heat getting to me, the water bottles running out, I cycled on home, never going over sixteen. There was a time not too long ago, I would have been unhappy had I gone under sixteen. Times change.
All in all, a good ride, despite the heat. There is always the satisfaction of getting out, of seeing the countryside, then returning to the cool of the home.
So here I sit, Tour de France being watched for about the third time today, listening to Pandora radio set on Pink Floyd type songs and watching the sun set, getting ready to take up camera and see what the evening light unfolds. Till later.