I have often laughed at the messages the camera sends me while I'm shooting.
"Batteries exhausted." Not dead, just tired, apparently, in need of a good rest.
"Blink detected." This message appeared twice today once when I was taking a picture of a bird and again when I was taking a picture of a squirrel who was actually eyeballing me. Blink detected? Do squirrels and birds blink? I guess they have to? But was my camera sensitive enough to detect that a hundred feet away (I do have a megazoom)? Should I start giving the birds and squirrels a countdown so they know when not to blink?
Most likely my hand shaking caused the message. But it was funny nevertheless.
Today is Day 45. And one thing I have discovered is that even though I only spend ten or fifteen minutes on the grounds at Hope, I am settling in. Things no longer run from me. That dragonfly the other day posed for a good thirty seconds. Squirrels stare. Birds stare. The rabbits look at me out of the corner of their eye and then go back to eating.
Sure, things still rustle through the brush and I hope those things are small.
But overall I feel invisible.
There is a stillness present and maybe that stillness is within me.
"Batteries exhausted." Not dead, just tired, apparently, in need of a good rest.
"Blink detected." This message appeared twice today once when I was taking a picture of a bird and again when I was taking a picture of a squirrel who was actually eyeballing me. Blink detected? Do squirrels and birds blink? I guess they have to? But was my camera sensitive enough to detect that a hundred feet away (I do have a megazoom)? Should I start giving the birds and squirrels a countdown so they know when not to blink?
Most likely my hand shaking caused the message. But it was funny nevertheless.
Today is Day 45. And one thing I have discovered is that even though I only spend ten or fifteen minutes on the grounds at Hope, I am settling in. Things no longer run from me. That dragonfly the other day posed for a good thirty seconds. Squirrels stare. Birds stare. The rabbits look at me out of the corner of their eye and then go back to eating.
Sure, things still rustle through the brush and I hope those things are small.
But overall I feel invisible.
There is a stillness present and maybe that stillness is within me.
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