Waiting to Click
When I studied photojournalism, we talked at length about the defining moment. It's the moment of intense action - or of emotion's peak - that photographers hope to capture with the "click." When I shot with film I was frugal with my shots. I'd wait impatiently for instincts to force me to press the shutter. I could sense the moment, anticipate something special happening. I loved getting my film processed, holding the negatives to the sky, and seeing for the second time the moment I'd witnessed. It was awesome.
Photos: Frying Pan Park, April 3, 2011
Photos: Lakeridge Marina, April 3, 2011
If I could turn back time... if I could find a way...
I don't think I would. The movement of the moment is amazing to see. The bustle of activity. The absolute joy of doing it. The frenzy of seizing every chance to play in a quickly moving childhood. It is life unfolding. It is motion that moves my heart. With every jump, giggle, roll, slide, and breath, I witness the wonderment of just being.
Trying out Mommy's shoes - - throwbacks to those she wore in high school in the 90s, and much like those Oma coveted when she was in school in the 70s. My how cyclical fashion is.
Yesterday, Ya and Dorado [lovingly called "Grigio," because that is every dog's name] decided to play chase. I was supposed to be doing the chasing, but Dorado decided she should be the one. Ya teased with his stick. Doh scoped it out, waited in a split second of plotting, and then siezed the waving staff. And then the real play began.