You may have wondered why I haven’t blogged about Ireland yet as it’s well over a month since I went. The sad truth is that the week was an object lesson in the disappointment which can follow high hopes and excitement. Not because of the lovely folks I was with, the ever lovable Irish themselves or the ridiculously gorgeous house and landscape I was lucky enough to stay in. From all of those angles I had a wonderful week, and truly I did have a fantastic week overall. But the one midge in the forest was the misunderstanding between me and my camera. Finally reunited with my SLR and itching to use it, I discovered that I’d forgotten (if I’d ever truly known) how.
The light in Ireland is quite bewitching, and the view from the cottage is one I think I could never tire of. As the light changes the islands of the lake fade in and out of vision; shyly hiding behind veils of mist, floating in the syrupy sunshine or hinting of pots of gold under double rainbows.
Could I capture that? Could I heck-as-like. Other than my photos of my crew, who pose quite beautifully and deserve prizes each and every one for enthusiastic cooperation in the jumping shots and so on, I have only a very few photos that I’m even half way happy with. Best of the bunch is this one, in my opinion. It’s not perfect by any means but I love the texture of the grass and the fact that you can just make out the hills fading into the distance. A little bit of what I was aiming for, at least. I’ve been a perfectionist all my life but I’ve always been impatient too. Each picture that doesn’t turn out as I imagine it breaks my heart just a little bit, like dresses that didn’t leave the sewing machine as the voguelike creations I’d hoped for, pottery that wasn’t as elegant as I’d yearned for, or climbs and dances unfinished or not yet begun.
Learning light, my camera and how to combine the two to make things of beauty should keep me out of trouble for a while, my friends, and I’ll hope to have some successes to show you, soon.