A melancholy and drizzly cool Fall evening at the farm. Getting wet to check the game camera is not appealing, so I dug out some old negatives while supper is being readied and found this one-taken in one of my first forays into the graveyards of Chicago with the Ebony 4x5. I remember being a bit hypervigilant and paranoid, not knowing if being so blatant as to photograph with a large format camera under a dark cloth would offend other cemetery visitors, or worse yet, the management. Neither occured here, but in later trips I believe I was personally responsible for the management at Graceland Cemetery to enact a no tripod rule.
My brother texted me to note that neither he or Kris saw a bear this evening and were leaving their blinds for the Black River Lodge. I am not complaining-the last thing I want to do is get dressed, hook up the trailer to the RAV4, bring the large ice fishing sled, drive in the dark through that lake-deep puddled two track into the swamp, and pull some 300lb bear out. Or worse, first have to help track it down by following blood spots (which disappear in the rain) all night.
“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”