But… I have my phone! which has a camera more sophisticated than my first digital snapper. So all is not lost. I do not have to attempt to assemble words, slippery slithery creatures that they are, wriggling down into the sediment of my mind and leaving only blurred coiled casts which disperse with the following moon.
This morning on the way to school secondborn breathed a barely-audible “wow” as we turned a corner in the park. The sight was superb. Long, low, warm light reflected off thousands of tiny spheres of silver scattered thickly across the grass which was punctuated by gleaming pools of orange leaves lapping around the trunks of flaming trees.
“It is beautiful isn’t it”, I murmured in response, appreciation of the sight mixed with maternal pride at the obvious acquisition by spawn of the beginnings of an aesthetic sense.
“What is?” he asked, absently. Turns out he’d been contemplating the workings of a particularly sophisticated replica gun he’d seen on the internet.
This was the nearest I could get to capturing that dewy moment, some time later on the return leg. And only after my carefully selected leaf had been trampled over by not one but two marauding hounds.
Every day I pass this thick clot of what I take to be white road-marking paint spilt onto the pavement.
At some point before it completely dried I presume an itinerant piece of newspaper blew over and got stuck on it. The negative newsprint has survived months, if not years, of feet and weather, its message tantalisingly incomplete. Only today did I actually pull out the phone and take a picture of it.
This camouflaged and predatory van, on the other hand, is not a familiar resident and is probably visiting from a neighbouring habitat.
Recently on one of the miscellaneous photoblogs I follow I read the following wise advice: Learn to enjoy beautiful moments when you don’t have a camera with you. That’s something I aspire to. As is a practical grasp of point 97: A better camera doesn’t guarantee better images.