I’m not sure when this began. Maybe it was when my Aunt Dinah and Uncle Chinny gave me my first plastic Brownie camera. I was maybe 9 or 10 years old. Or when my parents bought me a silver and black Instamatic with the innovative flashcube. No, I can’t trace the bug back to then, but those incidents certainly sowed a seed.
It might have been when Carl gave me my first 35mm camera one Christmas. I’m sure that our kids rue that day. I don’t have exact figures, but I’m guessing that I snapped close to a hundred pictures (each) of their proms. “Enough, Mom!” came the words of gratitude from my ball-gowned, beautifully coiffed daughter. And a couple of years down the road, some similar admonishment from her brother, the tuxedo clad, handsome young man.
I can’t help it! I see in picture frames. My grandchildren are now the targets of my lens. I know the various poses and app-edited Kodak Moments number in the many hundreds. So sue me! Somebody’s gotta record every breath they take! Right?
Nature grabs me, as well. Out the back window, along the paths of my walks, on a retreat, a planned visit to the park, the butterfly that posed just for me. I’m sure she was happy that I asked a total stranger to quickly step aside so that I could capture her various poses on the flower that beckoned Her Highness. At least she didn’t yell for me to stop. That beautiful monarch is now eternally enshrined in my ever-growing gallery. “You’re welcome, m’Lady.”
Among the pics that I have, or will post on my blog, you can count on the biggest percentage being those that I snapped. Thanks to my cousin Ray, who developed the Jazz photo app, I’ve been able to edit with ease and produce some exciting compositions.
The few that are not part of my blog portfolio are those that depict both my grandchildren and few scenes of lightening or the sun. (I must credit Clip Art for those.) If my children grant me permission, and they don’t yell for me to put the blasted camera/phone down, I’ll share a few special moments with our little ones along with the thought of the day that has captured my attention.
Until then, DON’T smile. I want to grab your image when you least expect to be snapped. Most often that’s when I catch the real you.
Photos by Barb Adams (c)