Monday … white bird

March 2, 2009 § 6 Comments

Last week I concentrated on photographing… white.
I stuck to the uno-chrome.
And today, one day into a new week, I’m re-whiting. It’s  because I am nearly speechless  and practically sonambulent (why? pooped. Didnt’ have the sense to go to bed  at a reasonable hour last night. It’s my Sunday night phenomena.) and haven’t a new idea in my head at the moment. And so, determined in a tunnel-visioned terrier dog way to put something on paper (via keyboard, oh, the contradiciton), here is yet another white to place upon the visual (and academic) table.

This guy is a favorite.


We’ll call him OrangeFeet.  He posed of course and urged me throughout the half dozen or so photos I snapped to “hurry it along  he had fishing to do. ”  (Actually, he ended up stealing bait from a beach fisherman who swatted at him once or twice, then ignored him, allowing OrangeFeet to take his fill from the blue plastic bucket o’ bait.) 

Inscrutable and perfectly designed by nature, OrangeFeet sat this spot on the pier every morning at the same time. How could I know it was the same fellow? Oh, I knew allright. It was his screechin’ bloomin’ accent.

Book selections …

It’s a book of short stories and I confess I read it quickly, gobbling it up, nearly a decade ago. Then I gave it away. I can only think it might have been too true in some way. I do know that Moore is a fine, yes, excellent author. Sometimes, short stories are so impactful, brief and terribly strong like an explosion. Just check it out. Unless you already have. Maybe you have my old copy.birds

THE THORN BIRDS – Colleen McCullough
I never meant to read this but it was a long road trip and the book was there and there was nothing to look at through the window (that CANNOT have been true) and so I picked up the book and didn’t put it down ’til hundreds of pages and tears later. The movie, in comparison, stunk. It was, for me, completely miscast. This was one of those long generational books that you love at the moment and you could see and feel the whole thing better than any camera and sensitive director. Why read this? Hmmm…because you like love stories that go awry but the characters get stronger and stronger and eveyrone, characters and reader, learn a little bit about choices?thornbirds

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§ 6 Responses to Monday … white bird

  • laylou says:

    Let’s go to the beach and meet him in person!
    You always find such great shots… stark white against awesome blue backgrounds!

  • ds says:

    What a great expression–he’s practically tapping that foot with impatience! Birds of America is a wonderful book (no, I don’t have your copy–sorry 😉 ), and this is a wonderfully fun post. Thanks!

  • Alesia says:

    Birds of America is one of my favorite books. And the author went to my high school!

  • jeanie says:

    He is simply stunning. Birds are so hard to capture, but he seemed to be preening for you! This truly is a wonderful image.

    I feel the same as you about the Thornbirds — both the book and the movie. I started it because it was “one of those things everyone is reading” and I couldn’t put it down. And yes, the movie stunk!

    And one thing I forgot to mention in my e-mail — VERY cool map-wrap is now in my “reuse” collection! Cheerio!

  • oh says:

    thanks, Laylou. There’s nothing like the natural light on a sunny day … in Florida!

    DS – you’re right! He does seem to be tapping that gnarly old foot of his.

    Alesia – Yay! Another Moore reader! Honestly, I don’t know what I did with that book. I don’t like it when I go on a book cleaning spree. Anything else, yes! But weeding out books? no.

    Jeanie – Aha, you know and remember the Thornbirds, too! And so glad you like the “map wrap!” I didn’t keep all the Nat’l Geo magazines, but did save the maps – and finally figured out why!

  • litlove says:

    I do love the way you always include appropriate books. I haven’t read her short stories, but I read both Laurie Moore’s novels and thought them wonderful. And The Thornbirds is an old, old favourite of mine.

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