Sure it’s hot, still cherish this day.
Winter’s just a mere three months away.
Cape Cod was calling me one sub-zero morning last winter.
Or so I thought.
I’ve always loved the peaceful, beautiful beaches of Truro located on the tip of the Cape, but it’s been years since I’ve made a trip out to the coast.
I busily researched cozy cottages to rent and considered the logistics of getting there from the midwest for a short spring visit. It would make for a complicated itinerary, yet a Cape visit was still pretty tempting.
Yet something else was calling me as well.
It was the sweet simplicity and low cost of a trip to a lovely lake just an hour away. I’d been there as a child and years later with my late husband.
I found some photos of a charming little lake cottage on line and immediately booked it.
As I first walked through the door of the cottage last weekend, I knew I’d made the right decision.
It was built of stone, well over a hundred years ago, and was filled with personality and old world charm.
I saw well worn canoe paddles repurposed as book shelves next to the pictures of sail boats on the wall.
I felt the sea foam green soft throws ready to use for naps on the porch, and as lap blankets on the porch swing by the water.
And I tasted salt water taffy in the big candy jar.
Taking the steps down to the dock that evening with my camera, I smelled the promise of fresh walleye dinners also in that lake water.
I decided to sit for a while waiting for the sunset. I was hopeful the day’s heavy cloud cover would melt into a pool of warm colors just in time for sundown.
I watched what looked to be a loon swimming, then circling in the distance.
He appeared to be watching me.
About twenty minutes later, I bid adieu to the lone loon and started to climb the steps back up to the cottage.
But suddenly the loon abruptly called out to me.
I turned and finally took a picture of my sunset.
Nodding to the loon, I realized I’d found my calling after all.
I confess that I have trouble taking myself seriously as a photographer.
My body quakes whenever I venture from an automatic setting to manual.
Could it be all that camera terminology? I can’t help but wonder every time I pull out my instruction book.
Though more likely it’s my fear of technology.
Heck, I don’t even have a Smart Phone as I doubt I’ll ever figure out how to use it.
It seems I’ve missed ten tech upgrades during the last ten years while I was busy caregiving.
But I’m tenacious in my quest to keep trying, and to overcome those fears.
So Friday morning I was very anxious to capture the gulls flying overhead as I stood on a sandy beach.
It’s a special spot.
My mother-in-law and husband’s remains lie just beyond.
Moving in for the shot, I was ready to change my setting to manual until I suddenly found myself moving.
In what seemed like an instant, I was standing in a thick mix of sand and cool water rising above my ankles.
I quickly made my retreat.
Still I was able to snap one quick picture in transit.
I wasn’t leaving without it.
Maybe I’m a budding photographer after all.
Or more importantly, one now even more determined to rise above her photo fears.
Oh, and definitely any soggy sand bars.