Thinking of saying “Goodbye” to this blog

Things are slowing down on here quite a bit.  I’ve been thinking of abandoning this blog.  Facebook and Flickr seem to be much more productive in terms of reaching an audience.  This blog seems to fall upon deaf ears.

But that’s not happening yet.  I have one more photo to share with you (for now).




I’m Losing My Edge

I can move only so far before I’m disoriented beyond repair.  Before I end up listening to this song on repeat:

Before my camera starts to look at me like an abused pet.

I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge.

This blog is slowing down.  I’m losing my edge.

Play something for me.


Around the Area Today

Some photos from a walkabout today, and one photo of Thursday’s storm in the VA area.

Not much to say, otherwise.  Not much I can say.  Not much I should say.

Suspicious of Fads

Another period of absence.  I’m still kickin’ and I’m still shooting photographs–nearly daily.  In my defense, I’m trying to protect YOU.  Much of what I’ve shot lately wouldn’t interest you.

But these might.

I have an iPod Touch.  It’s a neat little gadget that almost convinces me I want an iPhone.  But if I did have an iPhone, I’d never use it as a phone because it would not have the battery life in it to do so after playing Angry Birds and taking photographs.

The only downfall of the iPod Touch is that the camera on it is crap compared to the 5MP camera on the iPhone.

Here are 10 photos that I took tonight at a hockey rink in Southern NY.  “Suspicious of Fads” because I’m still not sure whether Hipstamatic qualifies as art–or as faddish photography.  Nevertheless, I like messing around with it from time to time.  Here are some different styles and settings with features I found around the rink.

Portrait Photography–Sort Of

I’d been itchin for awhile to get a good portrait shot to post here.  Today, my 13 year-old Beagle looked at me in such a way that I knew I had my subject.

I commanded her to sit.  Bailey instantly knew I was taking her photo.  She even whined with excitement in-between two sets.  When I was done shooting, she exploded with happiness and tail wagging and looked at the camera as if to say, “Please let me see how I look.”

This old Beagle has been through everything with me and my family.  I held her when she was a whimpering 8 week-old puppy.  She’s in her golden years, now–but sitting for my camera today seemed to add a spark to her day.  Since I took these photos, Bailey has been at my side, tail wagging; I wonder “what is she thinking?”.




Driveabout: February 9

Disclaimer:  Nothing special here.  Move along.

I went out today because I needed some fresh air and I also needed to satisfy a curiosity I’ve had for the past week.

About the curiosity:  While looking around my area via Google Maps, I found this odd shadow just a few miles south.  It looked like a house or maybe monument–after all, Civil War bleeds through this area to this very day.


When I got there, here what I saw:


I drove away without even taking a photo.  Then, the oddity of the scene made me stop and drive back to take that photo.  I’d driven two miles away when the image of the house finally struck me.  It’s February; trees are bare except for the evergreens.  Not only does the tree by the house look unseasonably green, but the leaves were shaking in the breeze just a little too much.  The road to the house is now as forgotten as the family that once lived here.  But something is there.  On the drive back, I didn’t see another tree in green that didn’t have needles.

This interesting location I did *not* anticipate.  How peaceful to live and work in a mill.


This house stood alone in a field, happily tucked into the trees.  Nearly forgotten, but not gone.  I would love to meet someone who grew up in this house. . .


Alternate view of the same house.  Time has moved on–but how much?


I drove by two areas that looked like this next photo.  In places, the land is being stripped of all life.  This particular area looked so thoroughly destroyed that it reminded me of photos of a WWI or Civil War battlefield after the Soldiers and field artillery had made their marks.


This tree caught my eye.  There are many like this when power lines are near; however, nothing was in the vicinity of this tree.









Buried, part 2

It was a typical hot day at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan.  I was carrying my camera around the airfield when I happened to pass by a “local national” work crew.  He seemed to be the most junior man on the squad–following the younger men around, he carried only a mop.  This mop man was unusual, though; his black turban suggested he was Taliban or a Taliban sympathizer.  He looked old, too.  His old wasn’t the type of old that we (in the Western world) know; this was rock-old.  Dirt-old.  I knew I needed a photo.  But it was the black turban that had caught my eye and it was the black turban I needed proof of.

I approached the Afghans and pointed very tentatively at the old man, and then I pointed to my camera.  They shouted something to him in either Pashto or Dari, and he turned and leaned the mop up against the wall of the mil-van latrine.  He then walked out into the sun.  The young men pointed at me; I smiled and pointed at the camera, and then tried to ask him if he wouldn’t mind me taking his photo.

He seemed almost too polite and too passive.  I asked him to come over to the wall of the building.  I believe I took but one photo.  Here it is.

When I looked at the photo for the first time full-screen on the computer, I knew that I was hooked on street photography and portrait photography.  What I didn’t know is that I had captured one of my best images yet.

During two tours in Afghanistan, I have not seen an older native.  Afghanistan is a rough and tough country.  This man, however, had endured.  He is a survivor.  How many Russian Hinds had he downed?  How many occupiers of his country has he seen?  On which side (if there are indeed sides in war and especially in Afghanistan) does he do his fighting these days?  Or does he only wield a mop?  I took this photo in 2006; where are you now, mop man?

I wish I had asked his name. . .