Yesterday, in the yard, reaching out into the woolly patches left dead from dog's leavings and tramplings. A thunderstorm settled in this morning, beating down the bare areas. I wish I knew a trick for untucking the rest.
A few nights ago we had a fierce thunderstorm, the sort that rattles the entire house, shakes you awake in your bed. It was gorgeous and I absolutely forgive those nature gods for waking me up for that very reason. The crack of thunder matching pace with the brilliant flashes of lightning--it reminds me so much of my childhood in Chattanooga, the sound of crickets and cicadas giving warning.
We've booked our June weekend at Jay Cooke State Park, but Ryan and I are attempting to find a way to have a two-some camping trip (with dogs, of course) this May. He wants to prove that we can go it alone, be of more use to Lane and Angie and Chad, not rely quite so much on their expertise. I'm happy to just have another opportunity to force myself out in that wet earth, another opportunity to put my eye to the lens.
And here is something quotidian but frustrating me: I cannot seem to clean the flecks of dirt off my lens. Is it somewhere else in my camera? Look at how they appear again and again. Out, damn'd spot!
life, week 16
14 hours ago