Jonathan Fields blogged this topic today. It has some relevance to me this week, because a week from tomorrow I'll be having a breast biopsy. When this came up five years ago, I was almost too frightened to breathe. This time, I'm not best pleased at having to go through this, but I've been using some of the strategies Jonathan mentions to help me cope, especially mindfulness.
And I'm relying a lot on my friends. And do you know what? I saw one of my physicians today and he said he'd be praying for me. Extraordinary. Regardless of how this turns out (the mammogram was classed Bi-RADS 4 by the radiologist, but I'm not sure what kind of 4 it is), I'm a lucky woman. Blessed, you could say.
Plenty of trucks are rumbling along the road on the south side of the pond today. It's the last of the corn. You can tell it has been dry for a while because the dust kicks up in a beige fog. The creatures on the pond seem unperturbed, even when a tractor lets loose a long blast of its horn.
This time of year, our days start out sunny, but in the afternoon it is not unusual for weather to blow down from the mountains. It can look dramatic. This wasn't bad; not more than a few raindrops, really. Just enough to be an inside day, instead of an outside one.
My friend Anne gave me a tip about a sunflower field. They used to be everywhere when we came to Colorado, but then came ethanol and cornfields. I hit the field a day or so past its prime, as you can see.
Tonight I met a couple of other photographers in town at the little garden there. They are both far more advanced than I and it was fun to watch their methods. Out of more than 250 shutter clicks, this is the one that catches my eye.
I wish I'd remembered to take a spray bottle with me and used my reflector, even though I embarrass myself when I try to fold that unwieldy thing up again. There are very few lighting situations when I shoot roses, imho, that it would not be better to trot out the reflector.
These are September's roses, kind of overblown and nibbled on, but still lovely. There's a metaphor there that I think I won't unpack :-)