“Are you a photographer?”
I’ve heard it asked quite a few times ever since our family acquired a Canon Rebel.
To many, if you lug around a brick of a camera..you’re a photographer. I inwardly sigh when this question is asked. It really depends on your definition of photographer.
Dictionary.com describes it as “One who takes photos,” Yes, yes I do take photos. But if that’s the criteria for being a photographer, all of us may produce ads for photography.
Dictionary.com also furnishes us with a continued description “ especially one who practices photography professionally.” Ah! There’s the catch. No sir, I’m not a photographer.
Because I’ve dabbled in the area, and have read a few articles here and there, I know one thing that categorizes a photographer. They take a camera with them everywhere. They’re always ready for something spectacular to happen, ready to capture it. I’m not like that. I have a smaller camera in my bag, but I rarely whip it out just in time to capture something great. There’s a camera on my phone, but I never use it, (unless I’m frightfully bored, which is why I never use it.)
Many times, not carrying/using a camera has resulted in a missed photograph. Something I would have liked to have photographed, but I didn’t. The image may have stuck with me, however, thanks to the wonderful blessing of a God-given camera, our eyes, and a huge memory card, called the mind. (Huge in comparison with camera cards…) So what I’ve decided to do, is make a series of Spoken Photographs. Every time I miss the chance to photograph something, I’ll write it out as best as I can, and hopefully, you can see the image in your mind’s eye.
Depending on if the image made me think, or made me see something I liked, it’ll be a description of the thoughts it produced, or the details and colors, and description of the image itself.
The first one is from yesterday. We woke up at 4a.m. to take father to the Vancouver airport, (more on his trip as soon as he arrives), and on our way there, through the darkness I saw..
It is a straggler. All others of its kind, have been taken down for a while already. Then again, it’s not like all others of its kind at all.
A tall grown pine with its top reaching the inky darkness of the sky.
Until there, it is quite similar to its surrounding pine tree cousins. But someone had managed, [how? I don’t know], but they’d managed to accentuate the evergreen’s highest boughs with blue and yellow Christmas lights.
It is now January the ninth. A complete two weeks plus a day since Christmas, since it was to personify its smaller, daintier cousins who had graced homes with their presence and presents.
But maybe, he is the lucky one, because he’s still alive.
He’s one of the few that haven’t managed to let go of last year’s happy times yet. I guess he hasn’t heard yet. Heard that this year too will bring happy times. He needn’t be afraid of letting go of yesterday. After all, you can only reminisce for a certain amount of time! Then you must make new memories to provide material for remembering tomorrow.
He needn’t be afraid to let go of last year. Neither do I.