Almost-symmetry

Day before yesterday it was a lovely, sunny, quiet morning and I grabbed the dog and my camera and headed out to our favorite walking path. Stopping along the side of a sturdy corn field, I pulled out my camera, focused, and... nothing. C'mon clicker - click! Is it on? Yes. Is it focused? Yes. Is it... missing the memory card?? YES.

The next day it rained.

Tough lesson, but learned. Put the dang memory card back in the camera right away.

Heidi and I love the same kind of weather: cool, breezy and dry. Sunshine is nice, but only if we can enjoy it curled up in a shady spot. For running, playing, hiking up hills and staying outside for hours, we prefer the type of weather that makes us appreciate fur coats or wind breakers. Today was such a day. The light made for less than spectacular landscape shots and the wind made it impossible to focus on close-up shots, so it was nearly a bust for photography purposes. For walking though, it was just right.

Frosted Corn Silk

Maybe it's because I'm still tired from yesterday (long day) and I had to get up early again this morning. Or maybe it's because this month has been a whirlwind of activity and I'm just mentally drained. Maybe it's because in all my effort to make sure everybody else is prepared for this fall, I keep forgetting to be gentle with myself. Whatever the reason, homesickness has hit me like a ton of bricks. As much as I love and appreciate living in Europe - it is not home. I miss sitting on the porch in my in-law's back yard, laughing with the family that was mine even before I married into it. I miss artichokes. I miss driving up the foothills to see my mom, the mountains beckoning. I miss sourdough french bread. I miss the smell of the beach, tawny hills, scrub oak and friends. I miss cows. I miss being surrounded by my own language.

The corn is ripening. The immature ears still have pink silks. They look frosted with dampness and (pop culture alert) a lot like those little floaty white things in Avatar.

Rusty

Definitely spotting my weaknesses where this photo-a-day thing is considered. I'm letting too many things stop me - the weather, my mood, distractions... Well, I suppose that's what a "trial run" is for - to show me where I need to improve. I'll never learn to see artistically until I start doing it automatically, instead of waiting for the "muse" to strike.

Today I woke up at 5:38 am. Usually I can fall right back asleep, especially when I have the bed to myself, but this morning my brain wouldn't turn off. Which is how I managed to make it out of the house before 7:00 am. It's still too early in the year to catch the blue morning light at that hour - I should have left at 6:00 if that was my goal. The grasses were still wet, and the hard August morning sun lit the fuβball field and creek near the house like a stage on opening night.

For two.

Wowwww. I suck at this. That's okay; it's good to know where my weaknesses are. On this particular computer, my weakness is lack of patience because my photo card takes for-EVAH to load. That won't be an issue soon as we're in the market for a new computer.

Anyway.

My stomach has been giving me fits lately, but if I don't dose myself with caffeine every day I get a wicked headache. So instead of the acid I usually pour down my gullet (i.e., coffee strong enough for R), this morning I went with tea. Ro asked me if she could try some, too, and could we please use the fancy tea cups. It was a very E. M. Forster kind of morning.

Easy

So I thought I'd give this idea a trial run. R isn't deployed yet, but he is playing Army at a different base for the better part of a month, so I thought I'd see how I do with the photo-a-day idea.

So far, not that great, since I have one pic for 3 days and this was yesterday. Hmm.

This is the morning of the empty bed. See how neat the pillows and covers are? This comes from me sleeping comfortably, corner to opposite corner, with the blanket tucked in tight. This is how I always sleep - and wake up - the first few mornings alone. Relishing the luxury of all that space to myself.