False Equivalence

Happiness ≠ Success

Here's proof.

A Lucky Turn

into my driveway resulted in this

My love/hate relationship with my macro lens continues.

Fall Color ABCedarian: C

CELADON AND CANARY

The Results Are In

Cell phone vs macro --

caterpillars yesterday, Violet dancers today --

2 to zero.

In the Weeds

If I hadn't seen the two undergrads casting on the opposite bank, I'd not have walked around; and if I hadn't walked around, I'd not have seen their path through the tall grasses and weeds; and if I hadn't seen their path, I'd not have been brave enough to get close.

To them I owe my thanks, and to this Slaty Skimmer for returning again and again to cardinal flowers very nearly in reach.

(I just hope I don't wake in the middle of the night to chigger bumps.)

More Rain

Make yourself at home.

Stay a while.

Please.

Quite Challenging Indeed!

In answer to a question about cameras, a naturalist in one of my Facebook odonate groups wrote, " Macro photography is quite challenging and takes a lot of time to learn and master."

You got that right, I wanted to write but didn't.

The truth is that I like learning hard things, like my still-feels-new camera and still-newer macro lens. So far, both have outscored me in a contest of skill.

But today's morning foray and some cooperative odes provided a much more successful than usual shoot. I am beginning to think I should just use this lens and forget the other one. I am finally discovering the "sweet spot."

Almost Famous

I heard them behind me before I saw them: one couple and two women, going opposite directions, both stopping to ask, "What are you looking at?"

"Dragonflies." I pointed. "See straight over there, in front of the bank? There's a big one depositing eggs. She's slapping the water and coming back up."

"Yes," they all responded.

"Great Blue Skimmers," I said.

"Wait! Are the one who wrote the article?" one of the women walkers asked.

I admitted as much and they wanted to know more. So I told them more about what I wrote in Nature Notes (page 14 of The Sewanee Mountain Messenger).

They went on their way and I, mine.

What I didn't tell them is this: I spent the better part of the day taking bad picture after bad picture. But dadgum it was fun. Now that I have the right waterproof hiking shoes and a fancy new lens, I don't care about quality or fame. Just give me the opportunity to climb around, find beautiful bugs, and shoot!

Note to Another Ode Watcher on the Mountain

Dear S.,

I sure wish I could take you on a stroll up or down the SOT-Sewanee Village trail, but I know you'd never make it with that cast.

The only reason I walked that trail today was boredom with all the same old odes -- skimmers, fragiles, pennants, the regulars of summer. I thought I'd walk with my macro lens, go down the trail and into town, then through the campus back home. Perhaps I'd find a few insects or some leaves or even some trinkets in shops or window reflections.

Instead I saw this magnificent dragonfly. Wish you could see it too! (Oh, and besides this Arrowhead Spiketail, I also saw a Gray Petaltails and loads of Ebony Jewelwings.)

R

Seriously, Wiki How?

Coping with Acute Instances of Frustration

1. Learn your triggers. That's easy: trying to use a macro lens on teeny tiny, fast-moving odes in the shadows.

2. Avoid triggers whenever possible. W-h-a-t??? How will I get better and any less frustrated by avoiding the thing that I want to learn?

3. Practice stress-management breathing. Got this one. I can barely breathe when I walk with a camera because it's so exciting.

4. Manage your expectations. (I'll leave out the "of others" part since it's expectations of myself and my photography skills.) I pretty much expect to fail right now, so I've got this one.

 5. Check in with yourself. Ask yourself questions, like "Are things really as I perceive them?" Well, yes, the pictures aren't any good. "What might I be missing here?" Skill built from practice?

6. View frustration as "delayed success" rather than "failure." Got that: If I'm not frustrated, I'm not learning anything. (But. I sure as heck can't wait till I feel the flow again.)

To wit: Twenty minutes shooting this one flower and its shadow, never quite figuring out how to frame and focus the shot.

 

One more thing, Wiki How: didn't anybody ever mention that some frustration is a good thing and actually a lot of fun?

Oh Yeah, Baby!

Well, this was fun: odes meet macro.

(Now I can't wait till I really learn to use the lens!)

Panasonic GH3: Day 1

Pros
1/ familiarity with Panasonic Lumix menus
2/ good camera feel with sound grip
3/ lightweight even with a macro lens
4/ fast 
5/ beautiful bokeh

Cons
1/ the rubber ring around the viewfinder will destroy my glasses (I couldn't see through it within half an hour because of smudging)
2/ fixed focus will take a long time to learn to use (just as the macro option on the Canon G12 did)
3/ hard to find the little Odonates through the viewfinder or on the screen
4/ expensive
5/ I missed being able to just snap pictures at different focal lengths (this surprised me)

Today's Results
Best shots of totally still Lancet Clubtail and flowers. 

Worst shots of dragonflies in typical plant positions and windy web.

Judgment
The jury's out.

Summer's Pleasures

Pink tastes like cotton candy, too sweetly sticky on the tongue, teeth rattling, hanging on for balance, like the flower flies and bees plumbing every blossom.

Day 27: Another Day That Changed My Life

Great Fun: Playing with a large macro lens at Cheekwood.

Wise Advice: Our instructor said, "It's best to learn to shoot with what you have. Experiment."

Delicious Irony: In a macro workshop, my best shot was the giant preying mantis.

Another Day of Messes

Even lying flat out across the path, head uphill and feet down toward the lake, I could not for the life of me get the shot I wanted.

But thanks to Peter Elbow's excellent advice (This is awful, but I like it), about which I've written previously, I love the shots anyway.

Imagine me squinting. (You might want to do the same!)

Somethin's Cookin'

1.
Tea at 6 AM. A zipping sound. The cats. With a paper ball. Or so I thought.

Tea at 7:50 am. Zapping joined by a tell-tale burning smell. I followed my nose to the socket where the phone plugs. Warm to the touch, hot even. I pulled out, flipped the breakers.

Forty-five minutes late, the electrician replaced this with a new one.

"It could have been happening all night," I said.

"It could," he said.

"Is this the kind of thing that burns a house down?"

"No," he said. "It'd burn itself out and trip the breaker."

An electric start to the day.

2.
A walk around the lake. A dragonfly nymph emerged from the water; a spider attacked it almost immediately. The dragonfly fought to climb the grass stem anyway, a hopeless struggle to reach its final stage of life. A hand's width to the right, a Lancet Clubtail warmed on a leaf; an arm's length to the left, a young Fragile Forktail did the same. I watched all three in morning light, flooding the scene, Act I and III with no II.

3.

Underneath the metal edge of the bridge, a dragonfly held and spun in the wind.

"What are you looking at?" one of the walkers asked.

"Here, look where I'm pointing," I said, and walked the few feet further on. "See the dragonfly?"

The other walker said, "Wow," but the first looked straight down toward the water instead of underneath.

"Move your hand gently," I said, "so you don't touch the dragonfly. Then look under."

"Oh! Now I see it! Cool!"

They smiled and thanked me before walking on.

4.
Before locking the shop, I thought I'd take a couple more shots. And finally, something clicked. A macro that works.

5.
As I used to tell students about writing, "First make a mess. Then see what you can do with it." That's what I did all day today: 300+ messes I made (and one near-miss mess electricity made) and a couple of shots worth saving.