We had a little problem this morning…

Sunlit fields, distant barn

Houston, we had a little problem this morning.  It all started innocently enough.  It all ended well enough.  It was the middle that got a little–well, how shall we say it?–challenged.

About a month or two ago, my friend Harold took me on a tour of his fields.  He doesn’t live out on this old farmland, but he loves it.  We toured his building (which I remember once visiting dozens upon dozens of years ago when I was a young sprout, a very young sprout, doing typing for extra income while raising a baby.  This was two owners ago.  The eccentric fellow had me type a raging letter to the township treasurer protesting his taxes.  Little did he or I suspect that I would be the next township treasurer…)

But I meander.  Which is what I ended up doing this morning as I returned to Harold’s fields to visit the hidden pond back in the woods.  He had taken me there on a field two-track.  We bounced up and down in his vehicle until we came upon the hidden pond.  You know how I adore hidden ponds and lakes, don’t you?  I begged Harold permission to return at a later date to photograph.

Which is what I attempted to do during this morning’s dawn meander through the fields.

First I got lost.

Apparently wasn’t paying enough attention last time as Harold drove.

I ended up running like a deer through the tall wet grasses of the field, bounding up and down.  Felt like a free young child!  It was exquisite!

Until taking out the camera to snap another photo and–

Well, it all went downhill from here for a while.

Oh no! Oh no! The camera only has 6300 photos on it since last year!

The camera refused to take a “normal” photo for some time.

Oh no.  Is it time to buy a new camera?  Again?  Won’t this one even last to 10,000 photos like the last one?

Should I just turn around and go home?  Forget about the pond? 

No.  Proceed, Kathy.  This is a quest.  When one seeks the hidden pond, do not turn back.  Even if the camera dies.  We are more than our cameras, are we not?  Continue on your quest.

This doesn't look much better, does it? Are we doomed to photograph "modern art"?

I reached the hidden pond.  Admired its beauty.  Breathed, breathed, breathed.  Ahh, simple pond.

Ahh, peaceful pond.  (Do not panic.  What is the worst thing that could happen?  You would have to buy a brand new fancy Nikon camera, right?  Breathe…)

After a long peaceful, truly peaceful, admiration of the hidden pond, I snapped another photo.  Ohmygoodness!

The photographer's anguish?

And snapped again.

The camera recovers! Hey what do you think of this lovely lady overlooking the pond?

After a rather extensive photo shoot (patience, patience, dear reader.  Please come back tomorrow.  More hidden pond photos forthcoming!) the camera and I walked back across the mowed field path.  No longer lost.  Feeling only peaceful and relaxed.

Neared the barn.  Attempted to photograph the weather vane:

An odd view of the weather vane and barn

The camera lens wouldn’t open.

Finally it opened.

Then it refused to shut. 

And then–finally–it mysteriously recovered.  Have taken twenty more photos today without any further screw ups.  Hoping it was a battery problem.  Hoping.  Truly hoping.

Thank you for your simple and peaceful patience through all these camera trials and tribulations.

About Kathy

I live in the middle of the woods in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Next to Lake Superior's cold shores. I love to blog.
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22 Responses to We had a little problem this morning…

  1. Elisa's Spot says:

    ooooooooooo a whole other type of simple

    simple can be so complicated to get simple, or maybe just keep changing glasses, which can be tiring at least to me.

    I love that barn, I have images of a barn styled like it. I was looking to understand types of barns and haven’t seemed to have got very far.

    • Kathy says:

      Hello, Elisa, this evening. Yes, the places where simple gets complicated. I know what you mean… Barn types sounds like an interesting subject. I don’t know much about barns either. Love the old ones…when I drove downstate through the Thumb of Michigan especially noticed many falling-down old barns and realized that in 10 or 20 or 50 years most of those beautiful barns will be gone. A sad realization. We must enjoy them while we can.

  2. holessence says:

    Kathy, I think “the photographer’s anguish” beautifully conveys the feeling — camera angst — that you felt during your wonderful adventure. I’m looking forward to seeing more “hidden pond photos” in an up-and-coming blog.

    • Kathy says:

      Good morning, Laurie. (eyes barely open even though I’ve been up 20 minutes.) It’s funny…I don’t think I somehow articulated what happened very well during yesterday’s adventure.

      I watched the mind attempt to angst, but, truly, never felt anything other than peace in my body and feelings. As I read all the comments, it looks like people interpreted this as if I felt upset or anxious. To me, the mind began to do it’s anxious thing, but the underlying peace and utter acceptance was more at the forefront. Hmmm…how to articulate this in the small space of a story…

      • Kathy says:

        And…as I re-read the story…I can see how the words would lead to the impression that I was stressed. Hmmm….new ponderances how to articulate this better.

  3. Dawn says:

    Love the first photo, and like the one where the lens wouldn’t open as well, that diagonal bit of picture is very cool!

    • Kathy says:

      Thanks, Dawn. I liked the sunlit gold of the field, too. And this is the third time the camera lens took a cool picture this year with a diagonal slant. Each one turned out really good.

  4. I believe we could all learn a thing or two from the peaceful lady overlooking the pond. She wasn’t in the least bit concerned about your camera problems!

    Oh yes, we are so much more than our cameras, but I’m so pleased you persevered and came up with some great shots to share. 🙂 Love the barn.

    • Kathy says:

      The peaceful lady overlooking the pond actually represented how I felt during this whole encounter. A gremlin would represent what the surface mind was saying. (and there was gremlin sitting on the deck overlooking the pond. And the gremlin shot didn’t turn out.) I loved the way that lady looked…ahhh, so peaceful indeed.

  5. Carol says:

    I am glad you were able to capture some photos, but – I say, if you have your eye on a new camera, this is the perfect excuse to pursue that dream. We have to use whatever we’ve got, you know. Shutters refusing to open, cameras applying filters without your asking them to – well, that’s very good reasons, in my mind!

    • Kathy says:

      That’s the way I was looking at it, Carol! If the little camera died, then it was a perfect opportunity to buy the new camera. Exactly. Very good reasons indeed.

  6. Colleen Lloyd says:

    Kathy, I’m wondering if there is some sort of electronic “protest” happening today 🙂 As we were reading (and expressing much empathy and kindly support!) about your adventures with a reluctant camera….our computer went all wonky. Freeze-up and shut- down wonky! It has now calmed down and kindly permitted us to re-start and to finish reading. We had a good chuckle at the coincidence. Do you think there is such a thing as electronic empathy?
    There is something so irresistable about hidden ponds…..and not-yet-revealed photos of hidden ponds!

    • Kathy says:

      Colleen, I love how like-minded or like-souled people who communicate so much start to develop synchronicities. Last year flandrumhill (Amy Lynn) and I read each other’s blog every day. Many times during the year we had things happen simultaneously. Maybe not an electronic protest, but synchronicities nonetheless. Shall we see what the next one turns out to be?

  7. P.j. grath says:

    That shot of the barn roof through the partially open camera lens is my favorite. It was serendipity, pure and simple.

    A woman in our township has photographed every barn in the township. I want her to turn the pictures into a book. She has other things going on in her life right now, but she got the pictures made.

    • Kathy says:

      Serendipity is the word, pamela. I’ll bet you would do an excellent job with that book. Hope to hear that it makes it into print one of these days!

  8. Cindy Lou says:

    Your soul was at peace – camera malfunctions and all – THAT is what’s important!

  9. Karma says:

    I’d love a peaceful walk like that. I fear its been a while since I’ve had a truly peaceful one. Taking the dogs for a walk isn’t always as peaceful as I’d like it to be; I walk on sidewalks around neighborhoods with them and worry about picking up after them and running into aggressive dogs. And I’d feel guilty if I went for a walk without them. I think I need a nice woodsy walk.

    I definitely think it could be time to think about getting yourself the fancy new camera (whether its Nikon or Canon) – I’d love to see what you do with it.

    • Kathy says:

      Karma, Cindy Lou could talk with you about taking dogs for walks in the woods. I think she walks hers once or twice a day! But I do recommend a dog-less walk every once in a while. Just to have the different peaceful experience without them. (Which means I should fly over and take your dogs for a walk while you meander without them…) And by then maybe I will buy the camera and you can give all sorts of advice and tips!

  10. bearyweather says:

    Camera issues always seem to happen at the most inopportune times. Past frustrations of missing the shot has turned me into a photography boy scout. When I am making a special journey with the purpose of capturing it digitally, my camera bag now has extra everything … even a second camera.

    However, most of the time it is the journey and time in nature that comes first … and my lone camera tags along just in case.

  11. Kathy says:

    bearyweather, you are wise, wise. And so lucky to have a second camera! I would give anything to have a second camera at the ready, prepared to go into rescue mode. You sound like a wonderful photography boy scout! Very prepared. 🙂

  12. Pingback: A Walk in the Woods, and Down Memory Lane « Karma's When I Feel Like It Blog

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