Never mind the big picture. This week’s photo challenge is all about details, so let’s consider the details of what that might mean.
Some pictures take a superclose look at something that was already small.
Others zoom in to consider part of a picture, like this bright-eyed fledgling quail who’s small enough to hold in the palm of your hand. Yes, we’re looking at the entire bird…but it’s a small detail cropped out of a larger picture. Oops, I guess we’re back to the big (and not very interesting) picture after all.
Just one photo here encouraging you to look up, but you’ll have to look WAY up – all the way up from the base of the Space Needle in Seattle, a relic of a long-ago world’s fair.
That’s not a flying saucer way above you – that’s the base of a rotating restaurant designed to give views of the whole Seattle area. Not hungry? Well, there’s an observation deck even higher up. From the ground to the tip of the tower, it stands 605 feet tall (about 185 meters).
You may find it a little hard to believe that these pictures were taken indoors, but it’s true. They aren’t just indoors; they’re indoors of indoors. This is the butterfly exhibit at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History – to get to it, you have to go through a sort of air lock at both the entrance and exit. After all, nobody wants butterflies all over the building – do they?
This week’s Photo Challenge asks us for a single photo containing opposites, and this one – taken about ten years ago in Williamsburg, Virginia – is full of them.
There’s the past and the present, of course; the eighteenth century meets the twenty-first. But not really; there’s also fact and fiction, since the colonial-era uniform is a reconstruction, as modern as the little boy’s stroller. And then, the child is perfectly serious about what he’s doing, while the man is engaging in a kind of playacting – but it’s serious make-believe; it’s what he does for a living, and it’s meant to be as close to real as modern historians can make it.
It’s enough to make me dizzy, so dizzy I’ll try to spin in opposite directions at the same time.
Pleasure. Everybody likes it, right? Even this giraffe, who looks contented enough in New Jersey. (What does a giraffe enjoy? Juicy grass, familiar surroundings, other giraffes to wander around with – I suppose that pretty much sums it up.)
Well, we humans are harder to please; then again, we can think up a lot of pleasurable things to do that would never occur to a giraffe. We can also, alas, get ourselves into situations that don’t leave much time for our favorite pleasures. That’s been the story of my life for the past few years.
I’m not sure whether things are easing up at last, or whether I’m just adjusting to being overloaded. Anyway, I get a lot of pleasure out of making things that weren’t there before, and I’ve missed writing. Including writing blog posts.
It’s a pleasure to be back.
…since the start of my second try at getting my house all cleaned up. How’m I doing? Have I drained my own personal swamp? Is the place immaculate and empty?
Well, no. It’s cleaner than it was, and less cluttered, but there’s a lot left to do. And it’s really nobody’s fault. I’m overcommitted, and that’s part of the problem – but nobody could have predicted, more than three months ago, that I would be still be filling in for our church treasurer, let alone that my father-in-law’s health would take a nosedive.
So what do you do when you have too many things to do, and can’t walk away from the ones that eat up the largest amount of time? You make lots of lists so you don’t forget two-thirds of the things that HAVE TO get done today, and you reluctantly let some things slide that you’d like to do, and you take one step forward after another and try not to trip over your own feet.
And you cook a very simple Thanksgiving dinner, today. Never mind making Thanksgiving “interesting” – we’ll be eating roast turkey, with sweet potatoes, cranberries, salad, and pumpkin pie; just the basics, thank you.
I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m more of natural marathoner than a sprinter. I will have a clean house with no unloved junk in it – but probably not in 2015.