The first year I went to the Kanuga Photography Retreat was 2006. April in the mountains of western North Carolina was pretty near heaven.

My first DSLR was new, a Rebel XT with a Sigma 30mm 1:1.4 lens. I didn’t know much about how to operate it, but the instructor for the small group I was in, Kathy Eyster, made short work of that situation. I could make a list of the essential things I learned that week; I wasn’t the same photographer – not even the same person – when we said our final goodbyes and headed for home.

During the critique for our first assignment Kathy found something to commend about the work each of us had done. One admonition, however, was delivered universally that afternoon. “Watch your edges.”  We learned, all of us at once, that it isn’t enough to know your subject and to get it in the frame. Noticing what else is in the frame, especially the extraneous detail lurking along the edges, was a trait Kathy wanted us to make our own as soon as possible.

I have thought about that April week in 2006 a lot over the past three days. Wishing I were involved in some photographic pursuit, I have been engaged in yard work, and our edges?  Well, they’ve become a mess!

We moved in last August, the former owner kindly having had the yard done just before the closing. In September the development set about to repave our street. Then the fall and winter came. When we began tending the yard with the arrival of spring -- with the exception of the concrete drive way and sidewalks, Tal and I did not mind the edges.

As I planned this week, I boldly added this item to my list:  edge the street. Tuesday was to be the day. I gathered my tools. A mechanical, hand-operated edger. A long, double-spiked tool just like the one my dad used to get weeds out of the lawn. A pair of gloves.

My estimate of the time involved was a morning or an afternoon. Is that cosmic laughter I hear? Bermuda grass is strong, strong enough, I’ve learned, to break up asphalt in less than one growing season. Tuesday in the late afternoon a neighbor, having notices my sweaty struggle, had mercy on me and arrived with her electric Black & Decker edger. When I resumed work on Wednesday morning I was able to make myself a good, clean line. But, it was up to me to tear out the grass on the street side of that line.

It’s Thursday afternoon now; I finished just before noon. After a shower, a nap, some lunch, the only question I have now is whether to wash or to burn the gardening clothes I wore and kept wearing as I tended that long edge.

I fully intend to take better care after all this. It’s like Kathy said. Photography software oftentimes makes it possible to fix what went unnoticed in the field and intrudes into an image. But, it’s lots easier to get it right in the camera.

Same goes for that yard out there.

In the scheme of things it's not anything major, this confession.  It might not even be worth noting.  Fact is, I don't particularly like spring.  I know, how can I possibly call myself a southerner and not list spring as the tip-top, over-the-top favorite of the four choices?  And, after the winter people across the country have endured, you'd think I would be more than ready to welcome the busting-out extravaganza of it all. 

I am more an autumn and winter girl, preferring the settling down to the ramping up.  But, that's a topic for another post, and I will take what comes next and enjoy it.  Armed with the camera, I'll allow myself to be drawn to backlit flowers.  And, I promise I won't complain about the pollen and the impending heat (much anyway). 

Tal and I have begun working in the yard, this being the first spring in our Lexington home.  There isn't much early bloom that we've spotted so far.  Certainly no blubs.   A few azaleas.  One very nice Japanese magnolia.  We're engaging in what we're calling "gardening by subtraction," cutting down everything that's been badly pruned or allowed to get overgrown and digging out everything that is diseased or dead.  Doing what we probably should have accomplished six months ago.  The gradual reshaping is a pleasure in itself.  And, I feel an unutterable joy at the growing pile of fronds, limbs, vines and whole shrubs we'll have to haul to the street on trash pickup day.

So, I'll refrain from fretting about spring.  There is plenty to be accomplished and to be enjoyed.  While not everything can be my favorite, I can embrace what is and be grateful whatever the season. 

I have been working toward resuming blog writing for some time. As the moment approached to do the deed, I found myself face to face with the "how to start" dilemma -- which included what to call this new space, trying to be clear about why I want to write, and a host of other niggly things.

This isn't my first blog. I wrote VicarRidge during the last years I worked full time. Meanderings was intended to be a celebration of more footloose days after I stopped working.*  Neither of those efforts ended deliberately; I consider neither a failure. They simply ran down as I ran out of things to say and ran out of energy. That Write Light will be any different remains to be seen.

So, a blog about photography, which for me is a practice of contemplating light. A blog about observing life, which for me is a practice primarily of monitoring my own attitude. You will read lots more about that -- the attitude, I promise. In fact, despite the title I gave this post, I'm not really asking permission to begin again and I'm not inwardly snarling at myself for having arrived at a third beginning. Perhaps "three strikes and you're out" is no more accurate than "third try's the charm." 

I chose the photograph deliberately. It was made two years and seven days ago in Ward, South Carolina, on what used to be a regular driving route.  Almost without fail, I'd see those tracks and think I should stop. On that day I did.  The gleaming of the late afternoon sun on those rails was too much of a draw for me to tell myself yet again that I'd stop another time.

Now, I see all sorts of things wrong with the image.  The road crosses too near the horizontal center, bisecting the scene too evenly.  There's too much out-of-focus track in the foreground.  The highlights, especially along the rails, are clipped.  In other words, I would compose it differently now and I'd probably develop it differently, too.  After all, I know more about photography and the processing software in 2014 than I did two years ago.  And, I am a different person. These tracks though Ward help me remember and smile at that. 

Maybe one day soon I'll time a trip to stop in Ward close to sunset and photograph those tracks again.  But in the meantime, as I start over, I didn't make a new image and I didn't edit the old one. Letting it be seems right.

My big question?  Yes, I'd approach a new photograph of this scene differently now.  Will I approach writing a blog differently, as well?  We'll see, so stay tuned.




* Both previous blogs are available under the Blogs tag.