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I pulled out the camera yesterday and wandered around the yard. The weather was pleasant and I love the feel of grass between my toes. When I was much younger (grade school/high school), I never wore shoes outside of class. My IT desk job feet are much more tender now, but I remember the days of being barefoot from eyes open to close. That was seemingly many lifetimes ago. People say at the end of man's journey on Earth that he has had a full life and I can honestly appreciate the cliché as I get older. I can't imagine fitting the pieces of my life into one container. For a long time I used a Speedlite 550EX for all my flash photography outside. Specifically for macro photography, I used an ST-E2 infrared trigger to hold the 550EX off-shoe and control the positioning of the light better. I also would sleeve the flashhead with an Omnibounce diffuser to soften the source. I decided to dust off one of my least used pieces of camera paraphernalia and photograph my neighbors flowers, so I saddled the Twin Lite MT-24EX on the horse and headed for the driveway. I like the ease of using the MT-24EX in ETTL, but I've found that the light is too harsh for my taste without diffusion even when compensated properly to tweak the exposure. I haven't researched if there are prefabricated sleeves (which would be nice because they are snug), but I am thinking of making some out of plastic milk jugs. Anyhoo, the light was failing in the evening hours past gloaming making for difficult focus. The diminished ambient contrast basically left boring light I didn't have the energy to be creative, so I made a few frame and went back inside to my glass of wine. I ended up not liking any of them, but I was bored... so, I painted over the top of one of the frames to get this image. I know of this prominent digital photographer that coined the term "frosted turd" to describe the result of an otherwise trashed capture that a digital artist breathes life into my manipulation. Blasphemy to the purist! I don't think this exactly qualifies as a "frosted turd" due to it being more painterly than photographic in result. Either way, I didn't save it. Henry and I were warming the couch, enjoying our wine, while I skipped between Shark Week and random disappointing programming when the phone rang. Remember my post about those rare friends you have that you can go months or years without seeing and when you do finally reunite, it was like you spend yesterday together? The ones that you can just pick up where you left off seamlessly? I don't have many of those. Similarly rare are the people that you feel so comfortable with that communication and conversation flows as naturally as breathing. When I answered the phone, I found the voice of one of those friends on the other end... a voice I'd not heard in years, yet still as comforting and familiar as always. We talked for almost 3 hours in what seemed like minutes. Earlier in the evening, I received a call from a grief councilor that was given my name by a friend. Unsolicited solicitation. Does that even make sense? I am pretty open minded about the process of bandaging myself up, so I agreed to attend the meetings once the times and dates solidified. I am Jack's complete lack of surprise. We'll see how it all unfolds. If nothing else, perhaps my attendance will help someone else... that alone would be worth my time.

"It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything."