I drove an hour to surprise Maria at a terrific seafood distributor in Vermont; I wanted to surprise her with fresh Salmon, her favorite food, for Thanksgiving. We’re staying home; we’ll observe the holiday with one another and the animals on our farm.
The distributor was closed (on Mondays). I surprised myself by chewing on a camera disk with some good pictures.
I put it on a pile of crackers and chewed on it. The pictures were gone. It was one of the stupidest things I have ever done, and I felt like a fool.
I got home, and Zip practically threw himself into my arms; he had just come from the vet, had a booster shot, and was visibly upset. I held him up on the porch in my lap until he stopped trembling and started purring. He never comes up to the car like that.
Our connection felt strong. Once he settled, he jumped off and went off.
On my way home from Vermont, I noticed the sun, soft but beautiful. I started taking some photos.
I was discouraged and then anxious. I only have two days to get the food I want; one is the day before Thanksgiving. So I’ve got to go tomorrow morning and hope they have the food I want left. And that was before I ate a computer ship.
On the way home, I noticed the sun lying low in the sky, offering a beautiful sense of dusk in the country on a Fall Day. I didn’t realize how good the pictures were until I got home or how beautiful the light was.
It perked me up. Here they are. This is one of the primary reasons I came here to live in the country. I wanted to be able to see the beauty of our earth every single day. I stopped feeling sorry for myself and felt fortunate instead.
Come along and see the photos. I need some silence and peace tonight.
The sun inspired me to try a different perspective.
Looking at the photos lifted me up. Stop whining, I thought; nothing serious happened, and I could go to the seafood place tomorrow morning. I’ll move my Mansion meditation class to Friday. I’ve got books and other goodies to bring, including some Amish bracelets, which they love.
I have nothing to complain about. I’m pleased to be a photographer as well as a writer. Maria brought me up out of my sinkhole. The photography lifts my spirits every day. and keeps me grounded. I can’t quite grasp that some beauty comes from something I hold.
Crazy people know one never wholly gets over mental illness, but you can get a little better every day.
The light was in my face; I wanted to try this image in black and white. I like it.
I loved the animals in black and white; I had to catch the scene at sundown.
I came home to the warmest sight: Maria working on her new quilt in her studio as it started to get dark. I closed the roost and said good night to the chickens. Zip appeared one more time for a final scratch. I said good night to him, too.