DECISIONS, DECISIONS

Yesterday's stiff breezes that caused the yellow daffodils on the hill to nod, and kept the wind chimes under the eaves ringing, settled after the arrival of dusk. It was still and almost silent when I took Moon-the-Dog out at bedtime last night. The only sound was the sibilant whisper of the river hurrying along. Unusual, because when the river's at normal level, water dashing and sloshing through the big riffle in front of the cottage produces a constant dull roar—a sort of friendly white noise that is both soothing and reassuring. A lack of sound means the water is high, as is indeed the case after heavy rains on Monday. High enough to cause the stream to lose its voice, though this time around not high enough to be worrisome.   

Overhead, stars glittered in the clear night sky. In the west, glimpsed through a lacework of sycamore branches, a sliver of moon rode the obsidian darkness like a platinum canoe. 

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This morning it is cloudy once again, very dark off to the west-southwest, and at the moment looks like it could rain. The forecast, however, claims no rain and calls for partly sunny with a high of 63˚F, plus a repeat of yesterday's gusty winds. But I'm skeptical. I'd hoped to spend at least a couple of hours poking about a nearby woods in search of wildflowers to photograph. The reduced light is no problem for getting good images—in fact, I'd rather shoot under an overcast rather than bright sunlight; though breezy conditions make macro photography of spring's delicate blooms frustrating. But I'm not especially keen on getting wet, or slogging through mud afterwards—and that's not even the worst of it since wildflower shots regularly require a kneeling or flat-of-the-belly angle. 

Sooooo…I suppose I'll wait and see what the weather does later on before deciding what I'm going to do. Yet I'm well aware that a dozen years ago I'd have gone anyway, regardless of the prospects of rain or the possibility I'd have to wallow around in the cold mud for my shots. But today, I'm just not in the mood for such messy and uncomfortable semi-amphibious photography. Doubtless another sign I'm turning into an old wuss.     

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