Found this at the same vacant cabin on the Tyler Forks River as I found the old bench. Seemed like a perfect subject for a Holga, or any crappy camera for that matter.
Friday evening and it is just too damn hot to cut the front (did the back and woods trail last evening). Even the birds look hot at the feeding station and chase the food away with a dip in the bird bath. The fawns are getting bigger by the day and are now capable of out running the coyotes. Two weeks ago a pack of coyotes with kits had the twins cornered in my neighbors backyard, but the mother came and kicked the shit out of the whole pack to save them. Life is hard...Working around here all day tomorrow and out with the cameras on Sunday, light permitting. I have a friend with an old farm/hunting camp he has told me about that is full of old trucks, farm equipment, outbuildings, etc. Almost to Mellon, WI on 77. Sounds like a perfect plastic camera location to explore first light Sunday morning with coffee. All the ceiling fans are on here downstairs and the AC will go on upstairs at bedtime. Benny is panting but grinning by my side. Glad to be done with work for the week. Working in the yard, for me, is not work, but like photographing,. Thinking about travel after bow season to the Western part of South Dakota to work with the cameras in the Badlands and Black Hills. It has been many decades since I visited there, as a sophmore at Western Michigan University in 1971, on my way to Wyoming to backpack with a friend.
Have a stellar and peaceful weekend.....
“Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, "the happiness that attends disaster." Or: "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy." I'd like to show how "intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by failing restaurants" as well as for "the excitement of getting a room with a minibar." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I've entered my story, I need them more than ever. ”
― Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex