getting up very early once in a while makes that once in a while that much more special but,
it was good while it lasted but i’ll make sure it never happens again.
is a funny little guy that stops by TLC headquarters once in a while. he doesn’t have much to say and I don’t understand his sign language and he doesn’t understand English or French or my own sign language.
we do however play ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ so I pull up my t-shirt and show him my belly, Ben in turn does the same. I’m not sure what he gets out of our little exchange but I get to observe all his little details and not just groove on how cool looking my little friend is but also get to figure out what can make a great adult chironomid imitation and all that seen from below, the fish’s point of view. it’s a pretty good deal, I like this game.
this creature lies in one of my favourite playgrounds, the Aude river near home. the fish that live in it are rather pretty as well.
i’ve often been told that i like to think of dumb things but you know, thoughts that pop up are thoughts that pop up and while they can be pushed away sometimes (often) its fun to just let them run through and see what comes out if there’s anything to come out. one of those that leads nowhere is right there on that first tree trunk:
assuming its the name and not an acronym, who was she and what did she do to deserve this ?
did she like to fish the little mountain trout pond i like so much that’s just off-camera to the right ?
did she carve that herself or was her admirer/suitor a dwarf or of average height or even a giant that got on all fours to write those four letters ?
has she ever come back to reflect on whatever happened here years ago ?
might the roots be her grave and this lovely ash her tomb ?
i’ve no idea and don’t really want to know more but even if finding carvings on trees usually pisses me off, i’m grateful. grateful in the sense that those four little capitalized letters singled out this particular tree from the billions that surround it, made me stop and think, pull out the camera and, and, and… oh i don’t know, this is all pretty dumb but at least i like the pic and hope you will too. ANNA or no ANNAs, it’s a special place.
in what’s usually an either/or type of thing when it comes to serious matters, fiction has the easy role in this little game as it’s generally agreed upon whereas truths go all over the place even though they should be based on facts and vary from person to person, from thought to thought and even from branch to branch.
thankfully, in regards to photography and other pictorially light subjects, we’re not bound to such definites, there’s no clear line or boundary or philosophies attached, they are what they are or aren’t, and nothing more.
just sent in by buddy Trevor Hayman, a Large Dark Olive spinner – Baetis rhodani
“Quite a few of these around on the (Southern England) chalk streams right now.”
this kind of ultra-lovely bug image gets me going in a good way. i wish i was on those chalkstreams right now but that’ll have to wait till next month so, to get in the mood i immediately went to the local café, ordered a double espresso and got to work on making a few somewhat dark olive imitations for the trip. i’m feeling really positive about this one !
thanks again Trevor !
ah, the joys of going back through old photos and finally seeing them correctly for the first time ! taken last fall in the Scottish Highlands, i had left mates Al and Bob to search ahead for any trout that might want to play, did a quick turn-around before passing the peak to take in the scenery and take a quick phone pic. distinctly remembering at the time that i would probably edit out my buddies because they’re just far away indistinct spots (sorry guys… ) and just keep the image for its lanscapeness but a closer several-months-later look revealed that at the very same instant the shutter button was pressed, as we can see from the ring, a trout had taken Al’s fly.
at around 2500 metres near the French/Andorran border is where one of my favorite playgrounds, the Ariège river starts its journey.
up here its just a maze of fishless, tiny, seemingly insignificant rivulets racing downhill but most great things start off small and get greater and greater until they eventually turn into something else. ya gotta start somewhere and I couldn’t think of a nicer place to be born.
just a head’s up. i suspect its most probably a personal over-saturation of so many fish, fisher, fishing equipment images i seem to run into all day long that all blend and blur into one that’s killing, for lack of a better term, my own desire, at least temporarily, to be making any of those types of images myself.
another issue, again, for lack of a better term, is its been about a year now that my beloved waterproof camera died. the fishing camera, not the ‘land’ camera that stays on land but the one that goes where its supposed to go.
it was quickly replaced but it’s just not up to par image-quality wise and maybe more importantly, its not a fun or user-friendly camera, at least not how the old one was.
the replacement’s replacement will hopefully be out soon on the market and attached to my chestpack. sure, there’s always the anticipation of a new tool/toy but i’m mostly counting on it to rekindle the flame.
in the meantime, i’ll continue the ‘on the way to the water and back’ series.
and the parking spot.i had a great afternoon.
that’s pretty rigid thinking. absolutes don’t apply to the mind, we all change view points, flow like water in all it’s forms from one direction to the next, learn and accept new ideas and forget or choose to forget.
as fate would have it, in 1940 Leon was stabbed in the head with an ice pick. consequently, some of those ideas leaked out and floated away towards the heavens for all to see.
little did he know they would be continuously evolving from one shape to another…