Prescription

July 14, 2002

Writing in hindsight is not always the easiest, but when the evening was memorable and I have a bunch of photos as well. Sometimes I wonder whether or not I should plop these down as bolg entries, or shift from one mode to the other.

Ambivalent, I keep both.

It was a friday night and we jumped on the motorcycle to head out to eat at a local restaraunt. Come to find out that one of the physicians that my spouse works with owns the place, and although it's certainly close by, it has never been on our list of favorites. That's not hard for me after all, because I'm pretty fussy about the quality of food I eat out. Most of the time I figure I could have made it better or cheaper myself.

At any rate, the owner was not in and we headed out to eat on the deck outside. Although we overlooked a small lane, there is a main road between the lake and the restaraunt, so there was a constant supply of cars to keep us amused.

Dinner as I recall, was nothing to really brag about, and we might go back, but not any time soon. As we sat outside however I noticed a sky full of high cloud and suggested to my wife that I thought we might be in for a good sunset.

I don't have many childhood memories, but one evening in the 7th or 8th grade I recall running home to grab my camera with it's first roll of color film because it looked to me like the sky just might turn to fire. I found the photo the other night, but was disappointed that it was not dated, and I was also again disappointed that the image I sought that evening did not "turn out."

Well, that was then, and this is now, and with the wonders of digital images I can fire away, shot after shot and no one complains that I am taking too many pictures.

Someone recently suggested to me that I have some kind of nack of getting animals to co-operate for my images. At times it may seem so, but this night I turned and looked at all the seagulls lining the roof of a near-by house.

"I wish one of those stupid birds would fly in front of the sun."

"FLY YOU STUPID BIRDS," I yelled.

They ignored me, and I kept shooting.

Finally, one of them took off of the roof, and headed off west into the setting sun.

Sometimes the only knack you need is to sit and wait until a lone gull moves into your picture frame.