Remembrance Day

     I went to the Remembrance Day ceremony held at our local Cenotaph today. It was a beautiful morning with sunshine and unseasonably mild temperatures, unlike most Remembrance Days that usually feature cold damp winds, snow, sleet, or freezing rain. How Canadian of me to start a post with what amounts to a weather report. But that's just it. I am a Canadian. On a day when we honour the courage and loss of generations of young men, who fought and died for the ideals which make this country great, it would be petty of me to make any apology for my heritage.

      My father served in the 2nd World War. I know very little of his experience. Like many veterans of conflict he did not talk much about his military service. What stories I did hear from him were not about the conflict but humourous anecdotes about jokes and pranks that occurred in the everyday life of a soldier. From what I've been able to ascertain from my mother after his death, he served as a navigator in bomber command and was injured when his plane, shot to hell, limped back to its airbase and crash landed. He was the only survivor. After returning home and recovering from his wounds, he served out the rest of the war as an army training sergeant.

     Like I said before, my father never really talked about the war. I can only suppose that he didn't want the horror that he faced visited upon his children even anecdotally. I suppose that in his mind, telling me about the war would have  defeated his purpose for serving. He did not want the next generation  to experience what he did.

     I am blessed. I have never been called to serve in armed conflict. But I am the son of a man who did answer that call. Out of love for me and my siblings  he took the horrors of that experience to his  grave. Today  I stood in the crowd and listened to the familiar aspects of a Remembrance Day service,  the prayers, In Flanders Fields recited by children, the haunting notes of The Last Post, the Benediction. I stood while wreathes were layed by community minded businesses and service clubs, by schools, by the legion, by any group that ever wore a uniform in service of their community and their country from the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides to the Fire and Police Departments. I stood with my neighbours in this little town. I stood in Remembrance of those who made the ultimate sacrifice so that I could enjoy a life of peace and security.  But, ultimately I stood in honour of my Dad. We will remember them.

    

                                    .....More later

Update 2, Of Deer and Sunsets

     Back in July of this year I wrote a post concerning a failed attempt to photograph deer and my subsequent return home with a nice sunset photograph. Sunsets, while beautiful, are somewhat ubiquitous, so much so that there is a specialised app on many digital cameras specifically for shooting them. When I worked in the camera shop there were so many sunset photographs that were printed in our little photo lab, that all of us working there became a little too inured to them. Unless your sunset photograph is ridiculously awesome, it will probably have little influence on anyone who has worked in the photographic industry. To that extent, in my earlier incarnation as a would be photographer, I would rarely bother to photograph them. I was looking for greater challenges (and to some degree still am.)

    Maybe it is just the saccharine sentimentality that comes with advancing age or the humility that is an inherent in both aging and major attitudinal change, but I now find that I love sunsets and sunrises. Yes, they are ubiquitous, but can be spectacular displays nonetheless. Strangely enough, I often get more appreciative comments from the posting of a sunset photograph than I do from displaying a picture that requires a great deal more photographic proficiency. Perhaps it is that commonplace nature of the sunset that is it's very strength. The uninitiated might not relate to the technical prowess required to create a good image of something like a full moon or a well balanced night scene, but everyone can relate to the visual beauty of a sunset. Therefore I have no qualms about taking and posting any sunset pictures. If people like 'em, so much the better.

     By the way, since this is an update about photographing deer as well as sunsets,  I did manage to get a nice shot of a doe and some fawns at a later date.

                                                        

    

        Oh, and the sunset on the way home was pretty nice too.

   

                                                  ...more later

                                                                   

Update No. 1

     Ok, I guess that it's been a while since I punched up anything here. Of late I have been suffering from a seemingly endless ennui where any type of writing is concerned. Perhaps it is generated by self doubt. I don' t want to sound whiny,  but I can't help but wonder if the words I punch up on this blog have any meaning or value to anyone other than myself. Of late I find it much easier to make some digital photographs and with a modicum of editing, present them to my online friends.  If a picture is truly worth a thousand words, a camera is the ultimate labour saving device for one who has a proclivity towards both the visual as well as the written arts. That being said, I suppose that I really should buckle down and produce something on this web page that may be of mild interest to someone, even if only to myself.

     What I propose to do is provide some updates to previous blog entries. So without further ado...

     In February of this year, I wrote a piece " For The Love Of Trains". It was about a childhood train trip I took with my Father who, as an employee of the railway, was working in the baggage car on that trip. At the end of that piece I wrote a bit about continuing the railway tradition with some rail trips I've taken with my son.

     This past summer was a good one in terms of rail excursions. We took two of them. One was aboard The Credit Valley Explorer. This an interesting little train that runs out of Orangeville, Ont. through the beautiful scenery of The Credit River Valley. It was a beautiful way to spend the afternoon and, during our stopover at Inglewood, Ont., I got to climb into the cab of the engine and relive a few memories. 





    

    





Greg aboard the Credit Valley Explorer

  



View from the cab, Credit Valley Explorer

 


The Credit Valley Explorer (only one coach long), Inglewood, Ont. Aug2012

       The day before our trip on the Credit Valley Explorer, we enjoyed a short excursion aboard a train on the South Simcoe Railway. Of all the excursion trains we have ridden, I have to say that I like the S.S.R. the best. Last year, during our summer adventure, we rode the train there for the first time. In planning our travels for this summer, I noted that the village of Tottenham is not far from the town of Orangeville, Ont. and, as the fare for the S.S.R. run is quite
reasonable,  ( It's a short trip of less than one hour) I decided to make a return visit.

     The South Simcoe Railway is a short excursion railway that runs out of the village of Tottenham, Ont. If you are looking for magnificent scenery, the S.S.R. will probably be a disappointment. The scenery is bucolic and pleasant but far from spectacular. However, if you are a train nut like me, the S.S.R. is a little slice of heaven. The station is situated within walking distance of a very nice conservation area that offers comfortable camping and swimming. The railway operates carefully restored vintage equipment and is one of the few railways that operates steam locomotives. On our first visit, last year, we got to ride behind no.136, a Rogers 4-4-0 built in Paterson, N.J. in 1883 for the Canadian Pacific Railway. S.S.R. no. 136 is one of the oldest operating steam engines in the world. She is a beauty.

South Simcoe Railway Steam Train, Tottenham, Ont. Aug.2011

Greg riding the S.S.R.



S.S.R. heavyweight coach "Beeton", Tottenham, Ont. Aug. 2012

      The coaches that the S.S.R. runs are heavyweight steel beasts that run on three axle trucks. Built in the 1920's, they are the real deal. No fancy seating and carpeted floors here. Air conditioning consists of sliding open a window and propping it up with a stick secured to the window sill by a short chain. There is the hint of some luxury with the beautiful wood trim and vintage glass lighting fixtures and, with their heavy steel construction riding on six wheels at each end of the car, they ride as smooth as the day they were built. This a real railway experience. Through the open windows you really hear the clickety-clack of steel wheels on rail. There is a slight breeze blowing through the window tinged with the smells of coal smoke and piped steam. And,  when she blows for the grade crossings, well to my ear, it is a note that would put any operatic contralto to shame.

     All my life's a circle. ( actually circles within circles connecting to other circles) Our 2011 trip aboard the S.S.R. completed a circle for me. The only other time I had ridden a steam powered train was with my sister and my Dad. He was the conductor on a steam powered train running excursions on the Ontario Northland Railway for the Cobalt Miner's Festival. There's a story there that I'll save for a future post. I guess that it's kind of a continuation of the legacy that I did a steam train trip with Greg. Curiously enough, the locomotive number on the steam train that I rode with my father was 137. On the S.S.R., Greg and I rode behind no. 136.

     This year, on the S.S.R. we got to ride in the baggage car. (completing yet another circle)
When I purchased our tickets for the train I noticed that they were for seats in the coach. Looking at the train, I saw that it featured a combine car. ( combination coach/baggage) I asked the ticket agent if we could exchange our tickets to ride in that car. She replied that she couldn't do it but if we asked the conductor, he might let us ride there. I approached the conductor on the platform and he agreed to let us ride in the baggage combine. All he asked was that we remind him at boarding time.

     When boarding time came, we didn't need to remind him. He told us to turn left at the top of the steps. All the other passengers were turning right for conventional coach seating. As the train pulled out of the station we found that we had the entire car to ourselves simply because we were the only ones who asked! It was pretty cool.

     Unlike last year, we didn't get to ride behind the steam engine. Steam engines are notoriously maintenance needy and the S.S.R. only runs them on the weekends. Our trip this year was on a Tuesday. Our power for this trip was a vintage diesel.  S.S.R. no. 703 is a GE 70 tonner built in 1948 in Erie, PA.  She doesn't have the panache of 136, but hauled our little train without a problem. Not bad for a little industrial engine after 64 years of hard use. The baggage combine was pretty cool. Combines were once fairly common cars often used in branch line service. They were versatile units (half baggage car, half coach) that were often tacked to the ends of local freight trains to provide passenger service to smaller communities. As such they often doubled as a caboose for the crew and carried spare parts and equipment for emergency repairs en route. They also carried their own heating system since their service at the end of  local freights precluded  access to the locomotive's steam heating piping.

     This combine car was kept true to its original form with the exception of some benches added to the baggage area for additional seating in excursion train service. It still had it's coal fired stove for heating. It still had a rack holding air brake hoses and electrical connection cables for emergency use. It even had rails still in place for holding mail bags although  railways haven't carried the mail for decades. Altogether a very interesting ride. We rode out in the baggage section but took seats in the passenger section for a more comfortable ride back.  



The official "pose with the train" photo, Greg and Dad with S.S.R. 703
Tottenham, Ont. Aug. 2012



S.S.R. Combine Car no.321 "New Tecumseth" Tottenham, Ont. Aug. 2012




Ridin' in the baggage car. South Simcoe Railway, Aug. 2012

 
 


The passenger section, S.S.R. Combine Car No.321 "New Tecumseth" We really did have the whole car to ourselves!
      

   

            Ok. I've probably given you more information about trains and railways than you could possibly want or need. I did however, want to post this piece as something of a follow up to my earlier one. Life goes on and no incident or anecdote exists in isolation. However, I promise that my next update will be a tad more concise.... or I  might just post a picture.

                                                      ...more later
    

Last Train Running, The End Of An Era

     There was news about a month ago of the provincial government plan to cancel the Northlander Train that runs between Toronto and Cochrane,  Ont. This week it was confirmed. The last Ontario Northland  Northlander Train will depart on Sept. 28th of this year. Once again our elected officials display an astonishingly myopic outlook when it comes to public transportation needs and the future of rail travel in this country. Countries all over the world have been pouring vast resources into upgrading their passenger rail networks and, surprise, surprise, the public has responded by returning to rail travel, as long as it is dependable and operates on a realistically convenient schedule. In Canada, it seems, the prevailing attitude is  " They're not taking the train. Let's not spend any money to improve and promote the service. Shut it down and let 'em take the bus."

     During my teen years and early adulthood, there were two trains a day in each direction between my home town of New Liskeard and Toronto, Ont. One was the "Night Train"  It left New Liskeard at about 11:00 at night and arrived in Toronto at about 8:00 in the morning. If I had the cash, I would book a berth in the sleeping car, and wake up the next morning just outside Toronto. More often than not, however, I would just recline a seat in one of the coaches and doze the night away there. 

     One of my  most memorable rail journeys was taking that train back to Toronto after spending Thanksgiving Weekend with my family up north. Because of it's nocturnal schedule, scenery was generally not appreciated much on the night train as it wound it's way through the absolute blackness which is night in the forests of Northern Ontario. However, that night there was a full moon. It was achingly beautiful. Every glance out the window was like a moonlit variation of a Group Of Seven painting. The moonlight danced on the rivers and lakes of the Temagami District and Northern Muskokas. Towering pines and massive rock formations were rendered in silhouette against an indigo skyline. It was my first glimpse of scenery I had missed in years of travelling on the night train. I must have been able to doze off for a few hours because the next thing I remember was the morning sunlight. By this time the train was passing throught the woodlots and farm fields of Simcoe County. There was a slight mist over the fields and at times, one almost had the sensation of flying as the train glided through the mist and the  early morning sunlight. Somewhere I have slides of that morning taken with my trusty old Yashica FX3. ( My first serious camera) I'll have to dig them out and share them sometime in a future post. Maybe it's just the saccharine memories of a greying middle aged man, but I  remember that trip as a delight of the senses. From the moonlit scenes to the misty morning sunlight, the rhythm and sway of the train,  the smell of fresh coffee and bacon in the dining car and even the brief chill and ear assaulting rumble as I passed through that no-man's land between the cars.

     Travelling on the night train was not always a pleasant experience. Sometimes you had to tolerate loud obnoxious drunks who had spent too much time in the bar car. The old steam heated coaches had a tendency to be either stifling hot or icy cold. There was also the inevitable endlessly crying baby or hyperactive kids running up and down the aisles. But on that October night,  about thirty years ago, she was perfection on rails.

     Like I said earlier, there were two trains that traversed the rails to the north back then. The original Northlander was a European train converted at the O.N.R. shops for use on North American trackage. Originally part of the Trans Europe Express, these trains were quite a novelty. One of the coaches featured compartment seating and could almost engender romantic thoughts of a European vacation in the Swiss countryside. The last coach in the trainset featured a control cab so that the train could operate in either direction with the locomotive pushing from behind on the return trip. Shortly after entering service, the European engine was retired and replaced with a good old General Motors diesel built in London, Ont. It was found that the European locomotive, while very fast, didn't have the power or weight to blast through Northern Ontario snowdrifts.. It was also found to be a maintenance headache with replacement parts either specially machined or imported from Europe. It was a beautiful train to ride though, very comfortable and surprisingly fast.

     The latest incarnation of the Northlander features coaches that were rebuilt for long distance service from single level cars formerly operated by Go Transit. These coaches ride a bit rough as they were never designed or intended for use on long distance trains. Also the trackage on Northern railways is notoriously rough from being heaved around in sub zero winters and sweltering hot summers. The seating is quite nice though with lots of leg room and leg supports under generously reclining seats. It's kind of like cruising in a Lazy Boy chair. As usual, the O.N.R. shop crews did an amazing job rebuilding  the usual second hand crap with which they get to work.

     The first time I rode the newer version of the Northlander, I spent much of the trip in conversation with an older gentleman named Omar. That's another thing about trains. They're like little rolling communities. You strike up conversations. You have meals in the dining car with absolute strangers because of the limited seating in your little rolling restaurant. Parents watch out for each other's kids. For the most part, people are friendly and helpful. I've never really experienced that mobile sense of community in any other form of travel.

     At any rate, Omar was an interesting fellow. He was a World War II veteran who had some interesting and scary stories to tell. Some of my earliest years were spent in a little hydro town not far from Cochrane and after bouncing some names back and forth we found that we had some aquaintances in common. He was a member of the Royal Canadian Legion and talked about how membership there was declining. Omar rode the train regularly because he was going for weekly cancer treatments in Toronto. He was thankful for the train because he couldn't imagine doing 14 hours on the bus each way for his treatments. After a pleasant and interesting chat, Omar went back to his seat in  the coach to rest. I didn't mind. My part of the trip was almost over. My brother was picking me up at Cobalt. As I was getting off the train, I quietly said  good bye to a tired but still wakeful Omar. I never saw him again. But I'm glad I got to know him.

     My last trip on the Northlander was with my son, Greg. He would have been about five at the time. We had been visiting my brother in Haileybury and  I wanted to travel back to Southern Ontario by train. Soon after we boarded the train, Greg befriended a little girl who was travelling with her mother a few seats up from us. Soon Greg and his new friend were happily chatting and playing and taking over the unoccupied seats across the aisle from me . The girl's mother came to check on her offspring and  I assured her that I would keep an eye on both of them and that her little girl was no trouble at all. Later I had to collect Greg from their seats as they were leaving the train at North Bay. My sister in law had packed a lunch for us and, after eating, we went to the club car for some drinks. There was a big screen television  in the club car and the crew had put on a cartoon movie for the kids. Greg happily sipped on his chocolate milk and watched the movie. I relaxed with a coffee and just enjoyed the passing scenery. After the movie, I bought two cans of Temagami Dry Ginger Ale ( Memories of my childhood. I was surprised that they still made it! ) and we wandered back to our seats. By this time my little boy was pretty tired from his adventure and soon fell asleep. I sipped on a ginger ale and relaxed as the train wound its way down the final leg into Union Station. I remember thinking, " What a civilised way to travel."  I had taken a five year old child over 300 miles without a single problem. Just happiness, peace and contentment. The rhythm of a train can give that to you.  
I was a little sad to rouse my sleepy son as the train pulled into Toronto. It was the end of his first train trip. I had taken that train trip dozens of times in various configurations. I guess I never realised how big a part of me it was.

                                             
                                              ...more later



    

     . 

  
   

This is not the Northlander. It's the Agawa Canyon Tour Train. The Algoma Central Railway is now owned by C.N. So just give the politicians some time. They'll probably scrap this one too.

This is the kind of travel experience we're losing. Forgive them for they know not what they do. After all, they're just simple politicians. You know...  morons.

On Artistic Expression

                                 

     In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that, despite my having spent a good deal of time as a practitioner of blues music, photography and writing, I fundamentally consider myself a student of the arts that interest me. My success in any of these artistic endeavours has been, at best, moderate. It would be supercilious of me to make any pronouncements from the standpoint of any great artistic achievement. However, I have played the game enough to have learned a thing or two. It is in that spirit that this post is presented.

     Probably the most overlooked question any artist or student of the arts can ask themselves is " What is art?"  When I have asked this question of various friends, many of whom were trying to succeed in some form of artistic endeavour, the answers were invariably long and convoluted. Virtually everyone appreciates art at some level and most people are involved, to varying degrees in some form of artistic expression to get their creative ya yas out. Yet, it seems that no one can provide a concise definition of the term.

     In  an effort to find some clarification on the matter, I turned to the word wizards of Oxford and my trusty, musty Oxford Reference Dictionary. Their definition is as follows; art n. 1 Human creative skill or its application; the branch of creative activity concerned with the production of imitative and imaginative designs and expression of ideas, especially in painting; products of this...Whew! ... Yeah, like I'm gonna keep that in mind when I'm wailing on a harmonica in some blues bar or clicking a camera shutter with frozen fingers on a frosty autumn morning! And that was just the first of five listed definitions!

     I had an "Aha!" moment when having a discussion with a friend about music. He described a guitarist he had heard as a brilliant guitarist but a lousy musician. Apparently, the guitarist my friend was describing was one of those wunderkind who could play a thousand notes a minute, or, as my friend described it " faster than the speed of good taste". " The only thing he could communicate with his instrument was how fast he could play it." As a student of the blues, I could really appreciate what my friend was saying. Blues is perhaps one of the simplest yet most expressive forms of music there is. The guitarist he described was all flash and no substance. The first part of the puzzle clicked into place. A highly developed level of technique was not enough.

     To be a creative person, one must first be a person of some humility. Artistic effort fails when one believes oneself to be greater than that which is artistically represented. For an artist to fully represent the power of the subject matter, he or she must first be, at least a little bit, in awe of it.  Granted, a degree of ego is also needed, if only to present the artistic effort to what one hopes will be an appreciative audience. It is all part of the great artistic balance or, as I like to call it, the working dichotomy.

     There is a dichotomy which exists in all forms of artistic expression. If one considers any work of art, it can be split into two distinct but equally important parts. Marshall McLuhan spoke of the medium and the message. In the world of the arts, that application is valid. Call it what you will, medium and message, technique and soul, style and story. It seems to be the common thread of all artistic experience. Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile would have been lost forever if it were not for DaVinci's skill in a) seeing it and b) capturing it. It is that sublime combination of soul and masterful technique that make it the world's most famous painting. I could go on ad nauseam listing other examples of great artistic achievement , but you get my drift.

     Thus, I have been able to simplify my definition of art. To me, art is the communication of concepts. The definition can be split into that fundamental dichotomy; communication ( style, skill, technique) and concept ( story, subject, song, emotion, point of view) . It also provides a paradigm for the very personal and subjective appreciation of the arts. A benchmark if you will, for answering that age old question, "Why do I love/hate this?"

     The great thing about this "Information Age" is the democratisation of all human expression. The terrible thing about this "Information Age" is the democratisation of all human expression. To that end, nothing has really changed. It just got bigger and more accessible. Including my ability to write and publish a post like this one. 


                                                ...more later



     " Serenity is the command of the sunrise"  -from a poem by Gregory Barker 2009

                  

    

Another Sunset

    Ok, so here's the story. Last night I went to a hillside spot on the edge of town to look at, and perhaps photograph, the sunset. In the field below me were deer feeding. I've seen them there before when on a similar sunset inspection tour. It seems to be a favoured spot for them. The sunset was pretty, but less than spectacular, so I tried to photograph the deer. I found,  to my disappointment, that even with my longest zoom lens,  they were too far away for a decent shot.

     On my way home from last night's sunset vigil, I scouted around and discovered another trail that would bring me much closer to the field where the deer were feeding. But, by that time it was almost dark and further photographic effort would be futile. My plan was to come back next evening.

     So tonight, the plan was to photograph deer. I left a little earlier than usual in the hopes of having decent light for my endeavour. After a quick stop at the Brown Dog Coffee Shop for expeditionary supplies, (in the form of a mocha java shake; damn they're good!)  I was off to photograph deer or scare the hell out of them trying!

     I took the lower trail and, as I suspected,  it brought me much closer to the edge of the field. I set up my tripod and longest zoom lens and waited... and waited ... and waited...

     I don't know where those damn deer were tonight, but I do know they weren't anywhere in range of a scruffy, middle aged, baseball capped, would-be photographer with a ten power zoom lens!

     On the plus side, the sunset was pretty nice. To paraphrase the Rolling Stones song, you can't always get what you want, but sometimes the consolation prize ain't half bad.

                                             ...more later

The Need For Creativity

      It's hot. As I write this, I've been listening to the radio and the temperature today is supposed to reach a high of over 40° C. with the humidity factored in. I swear that I hibernate more in the summer than I do in the winter. Lately, on my days off, I have adopted the Mexican tradition of a siesta during the worst hours of heat in the afternoon. Of course this leaves a lot of things left undone in my little world. I don't care. I'll catch up later. My job requires that I work in an extremely hot, dusty environment. On my days off, all I want is comfort and relief.

     That being said, I must admit that I am still enjoying my renascent interest in photography. I perform this activity during the early hours of the morning  and in the early evening when the temperature is cooler and the light is more beautiful. In recent days, I have acquired a fairly long telephoto zoom lens and have been using it to make some photographs of local wildlife.

     I'm not sure where I want to go with my photography. For now, I'm just enjoying making images again. In some ways, It's like riding the proverbial bicycle, you never forget how. I'm finding that I still need to come up to speed with the newer digital technology but it's all coming about with surprising ease.

     I guess that the crux of the matter has to do with my personality. I tend to latch on to any given activity and ambitiously pursue it to the extent that my expertise in that endeavour leads to it being a profession on at least a part time basis. This can be a good thing as well as a bad thing.

     Michelle Shocked once said  "Music is too important to be left to professionals."  I read that quote years ago in a magazine dedicated to acoustic guitar and I have to admit that it changed my perspective on music and indeed on all artistic endeavour. At the time I read it, I was enduring the diatribes of a friend who was espousing the belief that one couldn't call oneself a musician unless one was doing it on a full time basis. I guess that, in his eyes, anyone who had a day job was to be considered an amateur who shouldn't be playing paying gigs. It was an attitude that bummed me out until I realised how stupid and elitist it is.

     Part of the problem of pursuing any kind of artistic career on a professional basis is the requirement of consistency. Musicians function under an age old truism. " You're only as good as your last gig."  When I was playing in a couple of blues bands, a guitarist friend of mine paid me a kind of backhanded compliment. He said, "You're a good musician. On your worst night you're competent." I guessed that if I was competent on my worst night, on my best night I was brilliant! I wasn't really going to buy into the "brilliant" part but, ok, as a compliment I guess I'll take it.

     The problem with being a professional artist in any field is this requirement of consistency. Remember, you're only as good as your last gig. You've got to be consistently as good as your last effort. The problem is that any ideology that precludes the possibility of failure also precludes the opportunity for growth. ie. " Show me someone who never made a mistake and I'll show you someone who never made anything" ( or at least anything of interest or value )

     This brings me to my current situation. I'm a pretty good photographer. Having already marketed some of my newer images, I guess that I could be considered a semi-pro. I can invariably go out and make a clean, sharply focused, properly exposed, well structured photograph. In short, I can always bring home the so called " money shot ". What I need to do now is allow myself the creativity to experiment a bit more.  I now have the technology and capability to make images unlike anything I've produced before. The instantaneous nature of digital imaging allows for much more creativity. An SD card for my digital camera costs less than $20 and allows me to make a thousand or more images. For film, $20 does not even cover the cost of film and processing for a measly 36 prints. With digital, if a particular image is not to my liking, it is gone with the push of a button. With film, I pay the price for experimental shots whether they are successful or not.

     I guess that the final upshot of all of this is that I need to start thinking outside the box when it comes to my creative endeavours. I'm doing this for fun. I have a good job that pays the bills. What I need to do is just have fun making images that don't need to be pleasing to anyone but myself. A little more fun. A little less structure. Stay tuned. This might get interesting.

    
                                                         ...more later
                                             

 Another shot of one of my foxy friends. Taken with my new 75-300mm lens.

 This guy was pretty brave for a rabbit. As I got closer to him he was just sitting there. I would take a shot ...take a step... take a shot...take a step...This is the 2nd to last frame before he ran into the bush.

Morning At The  Dam                        Just a shot of one of my favourite places taken when the air was cool and the light was pretty.