Taking a break from my first attempt at a self portrait, I pack up my gear and head to the park across the street.  My collection of gear seems to be growing.  I have to leave a lens behind to make space for my loupe with a 3x magnifying viewer (which, by the way, kicks the but of any pair of reading glasses–not only can I actually tell if I’m in focus or not, but I can even use it to read the impossibly small icons on the control panel on the top of the camera).  I tuck in a garbage bag in case I want to lay in any mud (you never know when the urge will strike), and I stuff in my new 5-in-one 22” reflector in the event I decide to do some macro photography while I’m over there.

I go to the park prepared  to shoot macro, wildlife, and/or landscape.  I’m nothing if not flexible.  I am also prepared for rain.  Besides my trash bag, I carry my rain jacket just in case.

I swing my camera bag and my tripod bag over my shoulder with my camera hanging around my neck.  As I pass the gym across the street, I see my reflection in the windows.  I look down at my feet, clad in five finger shoes.  I find myself thinking it’s a good thing I don’t have children–they would never go anywhere with me in public.

As I enter the park, I see an eastern blue bird.  It looks like it may have a nest on the light–it’s carrying a bug and acting like it’s feeding something.  I cannot see any baby beaks from where I’m standing, however.

Next, a great blue heron lands in the wetland.  I creep behind the cattails, hoping to get a shot.  As I get close, I see him standing with a frog hanging out of his beak.  But he flies off and I am left wondering why I didn’t change to my longest lens before sneaking up on him.

I head back towards the paved path, looking for a spot to shoot clouds, and then blooming trees.  I switch back and forth between shooting macro and landscape, wishing I had that second camera.

I make good use of the trash bag getting a new angle on blooming trees.  My reflector comes in handy when I need some shade on the red bud blooms.  However, the wind is picking up and macro shooting at 3 feet above the ground does not go well.

I shift back to shooting landscape.  As I stand overlooking the Tennessee River, it starts to rain.  My garbage bag transforms into a rain cover for my camera.  My rain jacket goes on, the hood goes up, and I head back home.

Tisen is frantic when I return home.  He jumps at my legs as if demanding an apology for being gone for so long.  Maybe someday he’ll be OK.