Sunday, March 24, 2013

a sunday outing


I try to make it my habit not to look back and once I post my blog for the week I am finished with it. I move on thinking about the next posting. My blog posts are based on whatever the weather, circumstance and creativity presents me. So luckily on Sunday once I posted and done my chores I was able to enjoy some precious sunshine and wrote the following:

My son is currently studying photography in high school. Whenever the weather cooperates we go for walks so he can practice developing his eye. He has come to love my little red camera which he borrows for his class projects. Today we went to a local marsh and bird sanctuary. As we slowly wandered past the cat-tails and bleached rushes, he stopped on a regular basis to take pictures of the dead trees in the marshland and the small birds flitting about. 

Currently seven swans have taken residence in the area so the marsh is a popular spot for photographers. We passed many others with their cameras taking pictures. At one point we saw a man standing close to the water’s edge holding a substantial camera with a large protruding lens. “Think he is over compensating for something?” my son asked. However, only a minute or so later we saw another photographer dressed in camouflage with a camera set up on a tripod. Extending from the camera was the largest lens set up I had ever seen also dressed in camouflage.  

My son placed the little red camera pack into its pouch and gave it a pat. “I don’t want it to have an inferiority complex,” he added with a smile.

Buttertubs Marsh is a lovely spot for a short walk. I like it because it is flat and easy to do. I have Plantar fasciitis in my left foot that makes walking sometimes difficult.The pathways are fairly even,no tree roots or large ruts to circumnavigate, so it is a safe walk to enjoy on a Sunday afternoon.

The area used to be farmland and I remember it as a child. I played nearby in the open fields to fly my kite,do hide and seek with friends and wander aimlessly. Pussy willows grew along a barb wire fence in spring, and the area seemed idyllic to my child’s eyes. The farm has been replaced by bog and scores of birds whose vocalizations can sound anything like a teenager’s voice cracking and breaking to a truck backing up. Luckily this area has been saved since suburban growth has replaced the open fields I used to play on. There no longer is area to fly kites, but at least there is a sanctuary to wander aimlessly.


What better way to recharge the creative spirit?



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