5 May 2012

Barn Cat Door

Barn Cat Door

The barn cats have their own secret door – the chickens are now using it also. Minnie likes to scratch herself on it and peer out all day at the world.

I'm almost over my pout at losing more than 300 photos, many of which I loved. More will come. And the message is: get to New York and get your head in a different place. My head was not in a good place today. Maria said I was grumpy all day. Time to go away.

Posted in Farm Journal, General

Moon Lessons. Photo Lessons. Letting Go. Going.

Letting Go. Going

I took 300 photos today, many of them precious to me. Rocky and Maria. Our new home. Donkeys talking to Maria. My computer card ate all of them up. Digital photographers are spoiled rotten in many ways. Film photographers lose photos all the time, with changing light and in the darkroom, but it is rare for me to lose a day's work and it hurts, leaves a hole in me. I have come to see this as a signal that it is time for me to quiet down, be still, moving along. There are always more photos and I am bringing my 35 mm lens to New York to get some. I went out to shoot the big moon that every photographer in the world is shooting tonight, and then, I am done.

I am taking the camera to NYC – be gone from Sunday a.m. to Tuesday afternoon. No computer, so the blog will be quiet,  and we will all get a rest from my life. Seeing "Death Of A  Salesmen" with Seymour Phillip Hoffman Sunday, then going to Brooklyn Monday to see my daughter, pick up a photo I bought – one of George Forss's brilliant works – and going to see "The Avengers." Very excited to be going to New York, and I drink up the energy there, and then come home to soak up the beauty and the quiet. Had dinner with Jack and Kim, new neighbors of ours in the New Bedlam Farm, and we had a great time talking to them. Yet another reason to get into the new place.

Went to see Rocky today and he comes running when he hear's Maria's voice, and nuzzles her. Got some lovely photos of it..arrgggh..they are gone. Enough of that.

Posted in Farm Journal, General

A Late Walk

The Walk

"When I get up through the mowing field,

The headless aftermath,

Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,

Half closes the garden path.

 

And when I come to the garden ground,

The whir of sober birds

Up from the tangle of withered weeds

Is sadder than any words.

 

A tree beside the wall stands bare,

But a leaf that lingered brown,

Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,

Comes softly rattling down.

 

I end not far from my going forth

By picking the faded blue

Of the last remaining aster flower

To carry again to you."

 

Robert Frost, "The Late Walk"

 

Posted in Farm Journal, General