Some still stop and smell the roses

My handsome man Rex and I were up extra early yesterday.

He seems to always know when another Sunday morning rolls around again.

He’s also knows that means a walk to the lake is definitely on the agenda.

Approaching the lake, Rex and I chose a dirt path alongside the shore then continued walking towards the rose garden just ahead.

He listened to the excited chirps of the gold finches. I admired the sailboats dancing lightly on the sparking blue waters.

And we both warmly welcomed the cool breeze on a sticky summer morning.

It was the perfect gift from the lake just behind us.

As we crossed over to the rose garden, Rex suddenly looked concerned as he watched a couple of walkers and joggers begin to lose their balance.

“It’s ok, Rex,” I told him, adding, “they’re just on their phones and not paying attention.”

I was saddened a bit that some of our two legged friends were missing the beauty all around them.

Maybe Rex was as well.

But suddenly, with his nose up in the air, my two legged friend excitedly led me over to one large flower bed to stop and smell those roses.

I couldn’t help but think some days our dogs really are a lot smarter than us.

Rising above again

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.

Sinking actually.

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.

Views for free

It’s not Italy’s Amalfi Coast, or California’s Pacific Coast Highway.

The flyover state of Minnesota is my home.

I rarely travel anymore.

And I’m not a wealthy woman.

Yet maybe I am.

My rusty Subaru and I hit the roads early yesterday at 5:30 a.m.

We had a 7:00 appointment with the morning sunrise just across the border in Wisconsin.

And we made it just in time.

My just reward was a warm slice of spinach quiche from a nearby bakery, with sugary Swedish donuts laced with cardamon for dessert.

As to the Subaru, it was treated to a fresh quart of oil at the gas station.

Opening the car door, I noticed I still had plenty of coins left in my pocket for the drive back.

It seems the best things in life are still free.

Well, almost anyway.