It was cold this morning. With the eastern sky turning vivid pink, I dressed hurriedly and walked down the street. Too late! The sun had crested. To my left, at the pond, the duck family was nowhere to be seen. No doubt, keeping warmer than I felt. My attempt to find the kookaburras, high in the gum trees, was also futile. So I walked away from their laughter.
Crossing the damp grass I headed to the lake, my breath creating small clouds as my step quickened. I was not disappointed. There was sparkle everywhere. The light through the paperbark trees was soft. The scene, reminiscent of a Hans Heysen canvas. A flutter of wings and the Red Western Wattlebird flew above me, resting nearby for my camera. I took a picture but was amazed when I uploaded it at what I had captured. Or rather, what the bird had captured for breakfast!
Photographing the ordinary has become an unexpected passion. It is uplifting. It renews. It sharpens the senses. Life, my surrounds, no matter where I am, is not pedestrian. Photography centres me. It is a connection where all pieces come together and make me whole again.
May you, too, find paths that lead you to be whole again.
Until next time
a dawn bird