Posts Tagged ‘lost opportunity

17
Oct
14

Texture of a Downpour

and a missed opportunity via “I should go over there….no, I’ll do it tomorrow”. The water was up and the salmon were moving up river. In fact, look across the river, in the below image, and you will note a small stream flowing into the river. My attention was drawn toward the mouth of that small stream. Dozens of large salmon were staged at the mouth and attempting to push up into the stream. Their backs were protruding as they pushed, thrashed and twisted via powerful tail thrusts. 

downpour-texture-photography-Switters

I thought that would make for some great photos. I would sit and focus on the five foot wide mouth and take great shots of the fish, rocks, water and splashes. Yes, that was a great idea I thought. But, not that day, I had to catch fish (those fish staged off the small stream are quite vulnerable and to me it would be blatantly unethical to harass them at the point they were entering their spawning habitat).

What I didn’t think about was the water level not only dropping for the main river, but also for the small stream. The next day, the water had dropped so far the salmon could not make a run into the small stream. They were no where to be seen. Opportunity lost…so I fished upriver.

Tonight, I’m back home and I can see it is currently raining hard at the coast. The water will rise by morning and those salmon will be staged off that small stream and muscle up over those rocks and I won’t be there to capture it. Maybe soon (it won’t last much longer) or maybe it waits until next year.

30
Jan
14

Our Father who……………….

DadsOldSawSBx

“Listen, there is no way any true man is going to let children live around him in his home and not discipline and teach, fight and mold them until they know all he knows. His goal is to make them better than he is. Being their friend is a distant second to this.”  Victor Devlin

As I get ever older, the images fade of my Father. There were few photos taken of him. I have only the fleeting views in my memories of him camping, building something, working in the yard, taking his last breath in the hospital. 

He was and is unique to me: warrior, dependable, troubled, seeking, settling, private…an unknown quantity beyond the handful of images that flit through my ever porous mind’s eye.

Sometimes the deeds and offered words fill the canvas. Sometimes, as in my case, I wasn’t watching to notice the canvas was incomplete and the passion to complete had been sidetracked for some unknown reason. Truly who was he?

 




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