What shall we say about Saturday in the woods? The day was brilliantly sunny and the air was full of birdsong and hungry deer flies. As Lanark moves languidly into late summer, the brilliant early emerald greens of the fields and woodlands are turning dry, going powdery gray and dusty brown around the edges. I took one bad tumble yesterday and righted myself quickly, but somewhere in the beaver pond is a derelict lens cap which went flying off in the process. My back is much the worse for wear this morning, but the camera is just fine. I shall hobble slowly about this morning and look for the lens cap.
It has not been hot enough here for the summer cicadas to climb up into the July sunlight, but we have been prowling the verges looking for them, and there were grasshoppers and crickets everywhere we went yesterday.
3 comments:
You've painted an eloquent word picture of the day. Both its text and its tone reflect the feeling of hazy summer days. I can imagine myself walking in the woods, swatting at the flies, and longing to see as well as hear the birds.
I think that somewhere the lost lens caps of the world are having a reunion, perhaps joining foundling socks and the other mysterious disappeared. One of mine vanished without trace when we moved; another is at the bottom of an oasis pool in the Negev. At least the second comes with better memories and stories than the first.
oh no cate...too bad! hope you have arnica handy...and a dowsing rod tuned to lens caps!
Lil
Take care of yourself, darlin! Your photos just get better and better and more and more amazing.
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