(Probably best to read this with a wink ;-) and a smile :-) all the way
through.)
The wind howled all Friday night--I mean, it really howled--and it was
cold--and Saturday morning I felt a howling in my head and belly. We dashed
to the bathrooms and grunted a "mornin" along the way to all the experienced
PDML campers who were frying up bacon & eggs. Darrel & I put on a brave
face, jumped in the car, and headed for the cafe for breakfast.
"You better hurry up and eat. You have pictures to take."
"Well, yes, it's a photographic weekend," I said--then yawned.
"You have to get all your photographs taken and processed by the 3
p.m.deadline."
"Right," I said--then grumbled my tea wasn't strong enough.
"What categories are you going to enter?"
"I'm not sure what they are," I said. "Do you have any Advil? I've a
twinge of a headache."
"Scenic, Animals in Nature, Animals in Habitat, and Wildflower. Let's start
with Animals in Habitat; it's right around the corner"
"Fine," I said. "Do you have that Advil?"
"Look, it's time to get serious--and focused."
"Remember our pledge," I said, "the
I-promise-not-to-take-the-contest-seriously pledge."
"I had my fingers crossed when I made that pledge."
Yikes! I thought.
And so we began--the great quest for 3 contest worthy shots. Since I had
taken 150 shots of that tree that presented itself through the thick fog the
afternoon before, I was quite sure I'd get one for the contest, so I felt
cheered with my work done there--now I only had 2 more shots to get. I
photographed every blooming four-legged furry and not-so furry creature in
the habitat--and the winged creature as well--and I got it all--the
sheen--the glare--the missed focused--the blown-out highlights-and shadows
so dark they'd scare the bejeezes out of Edgar Allen Poe. For the contest I
settled on a river otter shot, which consisted of a fairly cute expression
completely surrounded by relentless out-of-focus twig-mess, which probably
covered 3/4 of the frame. "Not to worry," I said to myself. "I'll crop it.
Then it will look better." I wish I'd taken that Advil.
The sun warmed and along with it our bones, and PDMLers started popping out
of trail holes, and cars, and trees, and bushes. I met up with Ted, chatted
with him for a while, then he disappeared into a trail taking his striking
blues eyes and Arkansas drawl with him. Then from over a bush, I heard,
"There's Trouble." All weekend Sir Cotty called me Trouble, which made my
husband & I giggle. "The Trouble Begins at Eight" was a line used on Mark
Twain's flyers that advertised his evening lectures. My thesis was on
Twain, and my husband has always called me the Tricky Aguila. "Cotty has
your number, dear," my husband teased. I ran into Gonz at Cliffside, and
the two of us took some scenics, chased a bird for a shot, and settled on
some lavender flowers. I got down low for the wildflower shot. Gonz
remarked on the nice bokeh--but I chalk it up to bad luck that the flowers
didn't look so nice.
Thankfully it was time for dinner, and Darrel and I had a great dinner with
our fearless List Master Doug Brewer. He had the K-7 in hand and explained
all its virtues--and there are many. While feasting on fried chicken, the
three of us talked about books, and writers, and photography, and all the
stuff in between life has to offer. It was great fun, and I shall always
remember it fondly. . . .
--
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