Three-thirty Friday morning — Smudge was asking to go outside. As usual, I didn’t grumble and I didn’t complain. We simply saddled up and took care of business.
She was grateful.
In the clear western sky, I saw a star twinkling orangish — no, wait, not a star. Had to be a planet. Wrong part of the sky to be Mars.
I consulted my Stellarium app. It was Saturn.
Thanks, Smudge.
Eight o’clock — time for the dog and me to perch at the picnic table and watch for Remi.
Our frequent-flying doe didn’t come around, but this is what it looks like when I try to get a cell-phone shot of a bolting buck while I’m restraining a Heeler who wants to chase him.
That’s definitely not the buck I saw the other day in the pasture down below. This is a six-pointer, maybe eight.
I shared those blurry images with a friend shortly afterward. She christened the second one, “Violent Multitasking.” Perfect.
About my injured thumb… it’s coming along nicely, thank you very much. No sign of infection or undue inflammation.
Hydrogen peroxide. Neosporin ointment. Clean dressings. That’s it.
If I’d gone to the ER or an urgent-care clinic, I’m sure they would’ve put a couple of stitches in it. The laceration gapped (not gaped) but it’s healing. It’ll be just fine — I’m not a hand model, for cryin’ out loud.
That red bandaging, by the way, is a 3M product called “Vetrap,” left over from dressing Smudge’s injured right forepaw a couple of years ago. It’s what’s known as a “cohesive bandage” (it adheres only to itself), and it’s been around almost 60 years.
Growing up in a veterinary household, I became familiar with Vetrap early on. It later was branded “Coban” for human use. Same stuff.
Vetrap is especially convenient when trying to apply a dressing one-handed, like I am now. I keep a roll in most of my first-aid kits.
When I mentioned recently that the first “real” camera I used was an Argus C3, I knew that most readers wouldn’t have a clue what that is. This 35mm rangefinder camera, called “The Brick” by professional photographers, was everywhere in the ’40s, ’50s and early ’60s.
The relatively affordable, American-made C3 sold by the millions. It saw extensive military use in World War II and Korea. The one I shot belonged to my father, who’d bought it at the Morrison Field PX in West Palm Beach, Florida while serving in the US Army Air Corps.
From the Argus, I moved on to a 35mm SLR — an Asahi Pentax KX, a more full-featured version of the ubiquitous K1000. The Pentax also was my father’s, but he still preferred the C3 and turned the KX over to me.
This was the camera that grabbed me. hooked me, schooled me on exposure, depth-of-field, composition and such. I bought a cheap tripod and a couple of inexpensive Vivitar lenses — a 28mm f/2.8 wide-angle and a 75-260mm f/4.5 telephoto zoom — and my exploration of photography was underway.
My first Canon was the original AE-1, which introduced me to auto-exposure (shutter-priority). I got Canon mounts for the Vivitar lenses and kept using them.
Shortly before leaving for Montana in 1978, I added a second Canon body, this time an A-1, which offered the full range of exposure modes — bulb, manual, shutter-priority, aperture-priority and fully automatic.
I enjoyed the flexibility of working with two bodies. Usually I’d fit two different lenses, though sometimes I’d load one camera with black-and-white film and the other with color.
The A-1 was the first camera to capture images that I was paid for. And I was still using those pedestrian Vivitar lenses.
At some point in the ’80s, I stopped shooting almost entirely. I’d tired of the complexity, the hassle. That all changed when I was seduced by high-quality point-and-shoot cameras and then autofocus, both of which reawakened my creative instincts.
It took a couple of years, but eventually I saved enough money to buy my first autofocus 35mm SLR — a Canon EOS Elan — and three compatible lenses. Making the deal happen at the local camera shop required trading-in every bit of manual-focus gear I owned.
I was back in the game, totally committed. That’s the setup I ran until 2004, when I took the plunge into digital SLRs with a Canon EOS 20D.
Tight finances in the years since have kept me in the pre-owned market whenever I’ve wanted to expand or replace gear. I wish I’d done it sooner — that’s where the value is.
So that traces the hardware path I’ve followed for the last 60 years. Trumping it all is what I’ve learned, the things I’ve seen and the moments I’ve preserved.
Here’s an anecdote for the photo-geeks out there.
My first big shoot with the 20D was the 2005 Rolex GrandAm Series event at Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course. I had a coveted hot pass, and I was excited to see what I could capture from the pits, where the most interesting action is.
Reviewing images on my home computer that evening, I came to this one:
A cool moment — driver Mark Patterson, after his crew chief had wrapped the palm of his right (shifter) hand with tape to prevent blisters.
In Photoshop, I applied a few mild edits:
Not bad, I thought. I took one more close look at the details, just to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything, and I noticed that the driver’s hand was wrapped in Canadian duct tape.
How the hell would I know that?
See here:
I was utterly gobsmacked by the detail in the image. It was a watershed moment for me, validating my move to digital.
Even now, I remind myself that the resolution of the 20D was “only” 8.2MP. (The current version of that model, the 90D, is capable of 32.5MP.) If you want to chase megapixels, you go right ahead — I don’t waste my time.
Around 3pm yesterday, the window air conditioner in the bedroom quit chilling and threw a code. I did a Google search and looked up the number, discovering that it was an issue with the outside fan (the one that pulls air across the coils).
It could be an obstruction, which conceivably I could clear myself. (A visual inspection proved inconclusive.) Or it could be the $200 control board, and that’s halfway to a new air conditioner.
Now here’s where my head is.
First, I’d rather have this happen in late September than in late May. Second, the through-the-wall AC in the living room still works amazingly well. And third, the manufacturer of the window unit, Midea, recalled this model a few months ago over potential mold issues.
I haven’t responded to the notice because I didn’t want to be without cooling in the bedroom during the hottest months, not even for a day.
With autumn here, I’ll be taking advantage of Midea’s offer of a pro-rated refund. I don’t even have to ship the unit back — I’ll cut the power cord and scrawl “recalled” on the unit, then submit photographic evidence of that online.
So it’s a bad thing with good timing.
But the best part of being out back of the cabin yesterday afternoon, fussing with my window air conditioner, was looking down and seeing this:
That, boys and girls, is an example of the obscure bird grasshopper (Schistocerca obscura) — which is a grasshopper, and its flight does tend to resemble that of a small bird, but there’s nothing particularly obscure about it. The things are pretty common.
They’re big, too, as grasshoppers go, or at least the females are. I’d put this one at three inches long, which would make it a girl.
She just sat there and posed for me, which reportedly is uncharacteristic of the species — they tend to be much more skittish. I consider myself fortunate, ’cause that’s one good-lookin’ bug.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable