Feather or not

Since I started writing this blog, it’s as if my brain has developed a filter dedicated specifically to this effort. Every mundane thing that happens in the course of my day must pass briefly through my “blogworthy” filter. Most days this process is sort of like panning for gold in the bathwater.

After I bought the digital camera –- mostly for the purpose of adding color to my blog –- the same kind of filtering mindset started happening with whatever passes across my line of vision. “Oh,” I think, “let me take a picture of this interesting patch of rust; I may need that someday.”

It’s because of this skewed thinking that I was briefly excited yesterday when I opened the door to let the dogs in and spotted a single feather lying right outside the door. “That’s kind of pretty,” I thought, “let me get a photo of that.”

In the span of mere seconds, I took a half dozen steps, picked up my camera, took off the lens cap, turned the camera on, and headed back to the door. During that same span of seconds, Lucy (one of the dogs I’d just let in) watched my every move. I opened the door and she darted out, grabbed the feather in her mouth, and ran out into the yard with it. Lucy’s brain apparently has its own filters.

You might think that would be the end of this little anecdote, but you’d be wrong. You see, I walked outside today and happened to notice that same feather sticking up in the grass. I kept it under surveillance while Butch and Kadi were outside, trying not to alert them to my interest in it. They couldn't have cared less.

As soon as I got the dogs back in the house, I grabbed the camera, did a quick 180-degree turn and went back outside by myself. I retrieved the feather and posed it ever so carefully on the patio, just where I’d seen it yesterday, and took the picture without any canine interference.



This photo, then, is a testament to my tenacity. If I ever manipulate the environment to set up a shot that shows my spirit of spontaneity, I'll be sure to post that, too.