This was a difficult day to take pictures. It wasn't lacking in motivation or creative juices, it was difficult due to time. Work is not an easy place to take pictures although I'm enjoying doing portraits and I can do that in the halls of GCC.
I'm beginning to get good at it I think. I'm good at it with no flash, I need to practice with the flash, but people don't really like having lights flash in their faces. Daffodils don't mind.
The need for time alone has been big today. I took a little ride after work. The bright blue sky that was there when I went to work had been replaced by a grey and glowy one. The birds are all hiding, the storm is coming. So I came home and cooked a real dinner and turned on the computer. It's not working tonight. So you get a poem and another couple of photos. I suppose I shouldn't treat my poems as the boobie prize. They're not. They're good, but they are also presented here because I can't write about what I'm really thinking about, so here is a poem.
Driving Home From Northfield
The road is flat and narrow
grown over by
lush weeds and ferns.
Last night puffs of fog lay
right above the sheep’s back.
There they were grazing
in the long grass with
clouds of fog hovering
over them as the sun
set behind the hills.
The light was peculiar
pink and diminishing -
white sheep in green grass -
fog in pink light.
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