Back in (the photo) business

Green buoy, Warwick Neck Cove
Photos look better if you click to enlarge them.

For six weeks I have been without my camera. My trusty Canon PowerShot G5, source of many photographs on this and my sunset blog, slipped from my fingers as I rushed to leave for our night of pro soccer and David Beckham, hit the floor with a sickening crack, and was done for.

This afternoon my new camera – a G10, the latest version of Canon's versatile point-and-shoot series – arrived via UPS. It's a bit smaller and flatter than its predecessor, but it takes much higher-resolution photos. I took it with me for a walk with Daisy at around 4:15, along the beach heading east to Warwick Neck cove and back. Attempting to take photographs while holding a muscular, tugging dog on her leash is never ideal, and I returned with some duds. But I also quickly reawkened my eye for light, color, contrast, texture, and pictures that tell a story.

My photography is amateur in all senses of the word: It is something I do for the sheer love of it, and my results are far from professional. Wearing a camera on a strap around my neck as I amble around this small point of land, however, brings my walks into sharper focus, no pun intended. Suddenly every quirky detail causes me to pause and look through the viewfinder; every ray of slanting late-afternoon light through the cottony heads of the tall marsh reeds calls to me. The startling green of a channel buoy draws out the soft colors of fall foliage on the opposite shore. I am back at home in my element.

Late afternoon, Oakland Beach

Autumn arrangement near the town boat landing.

Boo, the beach is closed. (Wall of restroom building, Oakland Beach.)

Weeds sprawl at the end of our road.

A man and his best friend passed this way.


Never forget: The 9/11 memorial garden at Oakland Beach.

A little witch next door – and her froggie. (?!)

View from our front porch. I love the tassels on our ornamental grasses: shimmery metallic in the setting sunlight.

Light and shadows near the beach parking lot.

Seasonal reflections: the sunset mirrored in our front window.