Tuesday, September 1, 2009

I Just Can't Figure Out Wednesdays

Anyone out there ever read anything by Douglas Adams? Specifically the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? If you have, then you know that the meaning of life is 42, The Question is what is 7x9? and that Arthur could never get the hang of Thursdays.

Well, I can't figure out Wednesdays. It's an irritating day in the middle of the week. True, since I only work four days a week, it means my work week is three-fourths over, but it just seems to me as if Wednesdays never quite flow right, as if they're the boulder in the middle of a river that's just hidden beneath the surface and you have to drag your raft over it to pass on. But it's hard to imagine a nicer Wednesday morning than this. I stumbled out of bed after hitting the snooze button too many times, staggered into the shower and then managed to dress myself. I step outside to take the trash down to the road and I'm hit by a blast of cold, clean air. Dew is laying heavily on the world and my morning glories, despite the chill, are wide open for the world to see.

Fall isn't here yet, but it is fast approaching and this morning's forty-five degree temperature outside my door was a perfect harbinger. It was enough to put me in a better mood, wake me up a bit and send me on the way to Subway for a little steak & egg before heading on to the office. Now I can't remember the old superstition for sure about woolly worms, but I think the darker they are in the fall, the harsher the winter will be. I saw one this morning that was pitch black. I'm not looking to skip fall, but I am hoping for some heavy snows this winter.

In honor of fall, I've posted the above picture. I took it about two years ago now toward the end of summer near Seneca Rocks, W.Va. It's a sycamore leaf that's fallen early and as a matter of fact I so elegantly and mysteriously named this image First Fall. It's one of my favorites simply because of how the wet rocks seem so vivid against the pale underside of that leaf. The leaf itself is actually bigger than my hand and I remember thinking of The Land Before Time when a tremendous leaf fell on Littlefoot. Oddly enough, this picture always makes me think of dinosaurs and a time long ago when gigantic creatures like dinosaurs and dragonflies with a six-foot wingspan ruled the earth. It would have been something to see...

Isn't it amazing how a single photograph can make a person think of something that seems so unrelated? I think that that is one of, if not the most important thing, that draws people to photography. With literature, ultimately you have what the writer wants you to read and learn. And while some may argue that it's open to interpretation, I think that the things that can be debated about literature are trifles and that the bigger picture of the overall work is what the author intended and nothing more.

But photography is so easy to relate to on personal level and every photograph can take people somewhere different. Yes, it's a picture of a leaf on some wet river stones. But tell me, where does it take you? What thoughts does it bring to mind? I guarantee you it's different from where I end up. After all, I have the memory of making the image, of actually seeing the size of the leaf and looking up at the mighty sycamore it fell from and hearing it whisper to me of giants of old.

What does it whisper to you?

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