The Morning I Sat on a Bench for a Bit
The sunrise was a disappointment. Barely a whisper of dusty pink lined a few clouds; the breeze quickly bringing in a heavy cloud layer that obscured any hope of some dazzling light. I sat on the bench above the pond and waited. A pair of Red Kites swirled overhead, a cow and her large calf sauntered past in the field below and the breeze stirred the canopy above. A squirrel noisily ran up and down a fir tree to my left; in the quiet of the morning their scampering sounded unusually loud. But the light just went from dull to boringly flat and unexciting.
I had vague ideas of trying to capture some movement in the trees; but nothing really worked. I’d the wide angle in the bag, a rarely used lens, took a few lacklustre images with it but nothing worth keeping. The pond itself is little more than a stretch of mud, fallen branches and a tin can dot its surface. Then I thought of Helen Sear’s pond image, got totally dejected, so wandered off home for a bacon sandwich.
