Lens

 

 

It's a beautiful day today. Doused in Cutter Backwoods Insect Repellant, Jay and I made our way to the lake. A storm is coming, but for now it's pleasant -- just the right amount of wind to keep away most bugs -- sweatshirt weather. It would be a great day to fish or cruise around the lake in the pontoon. If I could get going. For now I'm content to take a walk to the lake front, avoiding the holes the turtles dig up in the yard to bury their eggs, only to have skunks later dig them up and dine. It's nature, my father says, but it's still sad, especially when you see turtles crawling steadily to check up on their families later.  

I'm more than happy to sit here, 29 days into my blog every day in June challenge, and watch this woman I've grown to love so much it's painful, with camera in hand, looking through her lens. She'll come back later and we'll check the pictures we've taken, removing 90 percent of the pictures I've taken because, well, my hands shake. But she doesn't mind. Nor does she comment much on my moisturized face leaving it's fingerprint on her Nikon screen. 

This morning I watched her profile. Her eyebrows and the thick lashes she says curl into themselves sometimes. I marvel at how her complexion is smooth without the need for foundation or correctors, how the top of her lip has a slight dip. I tried to take a picture of her profile with my iPhone this morning. It pisses me off that I can't show people what I'm talking about. It's the same madness that happens when I write and can't find the right words to use. I know there is a correct lighting, a suitable setting, the perfect focus and lens that will capture the moment. I just have to find it. 

Oh, but when I do --