Another Year of These Slide-Show Nightmares…

Tags

2014, Abstract Photography, Black and White, Blur, Commentary, Florida, Fun, Humour, Nature, New Year, Photography, Portrait Photography, Seascape, Silly, Song, Story, Surly, Water

A fortnight into the 2014’s great nascent, and Sir (the somewhat crabby super-model) greets its sunny, smiling visage with…perhaps an ever-so-slightly surly, tongue-protruding, sort of attitude…for reasons…I am rather foggy on, at the moment…

Anyhow, onto more smiling things- some new portraits of Sir and some of his, er, affectionate, comments. Cheers,

Smiling Toad

And so another year has dribbled by…and here I am again, startled awake by the monotonous scream of a clicking shutter resounding through my slide-show nightmares…

Everywhere I go, that sound, and that dark, evil un-blinking EYE bending my reflection around every corner, as I try so desperately to ESCAPE.

Another year of this? It’s only getting worse. In this photo, it seems the darn camera-toting toad forgot how to focus and expose properly. Certainly has no mercy. It is obvious, despite her trying to hide it by “blurring”, that I am bawling bullet-sized tears, here.

Even when I fall down after bawling so hard, she just coldly and laconically steps around my corpse, with that lens probing about for the “perfect angle” like a bird’s bill probes for worms. No sympathy. Sometimes, I wish she would say to me, there, sprawled in the soggy ravine, “Poor Sir…what a terrible monster I have been! What a curse this photography rot has been for you, poor man; why I’ve caused you to cry so ardently you’ve fallen and suffered great bodily injury, beyond that of the mental mauling you must have already sustained!“

Even better if she continued with,”HANG this camera! I’m throwing it in the murky mire beside you there, brimming with some darling gators, I see; or better-yet, I’m going to pop the lens off it in a tree with a noose. Let the birds nest in it, let the squirrels toss their acorns into it- I don’t care, I’M FINISHED!” Yes…I still can dream…

But no such luck…as reality seeps back into sharp focus. And now she seems to be on a “fabulous rock star” kick, adorning me in flickering baubles, frilly neck-gear, leather coats, and shiny eye-wear…One night, I forgot to take off the “props” and went cruising into a little local restaurant. Suddenly, a whole slew of wide-eyed people accumulated behind the counter and sang out to me, “Oh my goodness! Are you a musician?! Did you just come from a gig? We just loooove your hat!” Why me? (wince) I know what’s next…guitars and violins and horns will be draped all over me and then her face will alight with a terrible sprightly pixie smile, as she breaks out the eye-liner and lip gloss…I think I miss the “hit man” shoots, now…

“Oh YES perfect Sir, a bit of a groovy Bono-esc look here!” she chortles at me delightedly through a fog of clicks in this photo here. Not fooling me. I know what it looks like- some nasty creep out on the prowl. He’s got shiny glasses, hoping to “blend”. Here he’s suddenly turned away from a poor victim in order to glower into a shoppe window as a mustached police officer with a cherry-red face slowly sashays by, rapping his palm with his shiny black cudgel.

This seems to only enhance the ogling-masher-creep-effect. Oh why do I adhere to her silly commands? “Just kneel down there, Sir, yes lovely. The light is perfect now,” she cheeps, guiding me along with the muzzle of her camera. I protest, “But I don’t want to look at these ugly mannequins…” She replies, “Don’t worry about it; this is all for the lighting. Peeeeerfect.” A hundred snaps go off. Hmph. Bono my FOOT!

Sometimes, it’s just best to give in and pose…especially if you are pinned to a great sniveling serpentine cactus with razor-sharp quills pressing into one’s shoulder-blades…

And try to keep the tears at bay…And just hope that something else will EVENTUALLY catch the EYE’s interest…

Like this. Hmm…should I?

Or this.

Over time, though, you do develop some tricks of your own to combat the ultimate paparazzo protégé with. Ahhh the taste of rebellion! Or…near taste of it, anyway…

If you are afflicted with this problem of some atrocious imp shoving camera snouts in your face, try scuttling about in circles. Bob your head or twirl your umbrella. Throw a prop-hat into the wind. This works best in low light. Results in horrendous blurring, and hopefully, also in a photo-maker who flails off in defeat with arms flapping in frustration. Of course, do you know what my camera-toting tormentor cheeps at me whenever I do this? “OH BRILLIANT SIR! These photos are absolutely exquisite! So artistic, so abstract, and with such EMOTION!” (Sigh) Yes, that of deep, unfathomable despair…

Another option- turn around and…RUN!

Or try a scathing glare if your pursuer with the light-capturing device protruding forth happens to be a bit faster than you are…Ugh…that scarf! She was setting me up for disaster with that scarf and that bally stupid alpaca hat. Lasses kept bounding up in my face, squeaking how “cute” I looked. Boyfriends looked geared up to bash me so hard the scarf and stupid hat would go flying across the street…

Another tip- hide whenever you can, especially if your camera-wielding tormentor is distracted by a crack in the sidewalk or grime on a window or something. Of course…the determined paparazzo protégé will always find you…I know. They seem to have very keen focus. They don’t give up.

“And so, as I listen to a series of clicks reverberating through this foggy window, I leave you with a song that describes just how I feel below. Farewell. (I only dream that these nefarious images never, EVER find their way onto the great world-wide Web).”

Regards,

Sir

“Foggy Windows” by Unknown Hinson

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Happy Boxing Day

Tags

Animals, Brevard County, Christmas, Colour Photography, Dry, Florida, Fun, Holiday, Humour, Ibis, Lights, Nature, New Year, Nikon, Photography, Portrait, Silly, Squirrels, Surly, Video

And from Sir, a wee holiday message:

Misery Christmas, I mean, Merry Christmas….

“A happy holiday and she’s dressing me up again…

“Why me??

“Now she is forcing me to pose as some sort of sick Clouseau Doolittle for infamous VIDEOS of me being barraged, assaulted, beaten, bitten and viciously pecked at by a sea of rabid, wild creatures!

“‘What ART!’ the expert torturer chimes with the dead glaze of that stupid camera poking in my face.

“I certainly hope these beastly things NEVER EVER find their way onto the Internet…”

–Sir

Jubilant holidays, a most happy Christmas, and a glorious New Year to all.

Myriad cheers,

Autumn Jade

Better Than Fireworks

Tags

Boat Light Parade, Christmas, Christmas Events, Commentary, Florida, Holidays, Humour, Light Parade, Lights, Night Photography, Photography, Satellite Beach, Silly

“Merry Drink-A-Lot” sang out some boisterous boaters this past weekend during the Holiday Boat Parade…

In the inky darkness, a man with a glow-in-the-dark silver mustache shivered beside me and muttered to his merry-christmasing wife, “Wish it were warmer…”

It was about 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside with a flimsy breeze.

“More flamingos and palm trees than Christmas trees and reindeer!” one man observed exuberantly, as a boat fluttered by, sporting an illuminated string of rather awesome LED flamingos pulling a sled, with great green and gold, swaying bloaty palm trees billowing up from the stern.

Classic Florida.

“HALLLOOOO! MERRY CHRISTMAAAAAAAS!” came some soggy, sonorous voices, slopping up from the brackish darkness. What were these strange things?

“Oh my…those are paddle-boarders!!” a wee lass cried out.

Indeed they were. Paddle-boarders completely saturated with blinking, twinkly little battery-operated LED lights. One man waved his red illuminated paddle high in the air and the crowd squealed with delight. I felt a strong urge to burst into a husky-voiced and rather guttural Christmas carol, but resisted…

“This is better than fireworks!” someone suddenly exclaimed. With the air of a serene sage, I nodded to the black night in agreement, as more and more brilliant, light-adorned, sirening boats shimmered by.

A child squealed out many holiday cheers to the buoyant and rather briny light parade. A parent scolded, “GET OFF OF THERE! You’re gonna slip and fall!”

She was rapidly removed from the dangerous spot.

I strode up and swaggered about the slick, rigid pavement where the child had been, in order to scrutinize the sea of boats a little more closely, when suddenly I found myself slipping.

Adorned in a fresh coat of decorative green slime, I grinned away as I filmed the rest of the parade crumpled up on the gooey boat slip that was now especially forbidden to all children.

Whale…I was planted there until, suddenly, a twinkly boat came careening up and I bolted into the air, only to find that my left leg was out of order. Apparently, it had gone to sleep. With an astoundingly obnoxious and rather obvious old sailor’s limp, I managed to hobble out of the way.

As the algae-coated denimed leg began to come back to life once more, some onlookers spilled onto the twinkly boat and roared off in a sea of bonhomie.

A hound barked behind me.

What a sight. Yes, it was grand. It was brilliant. It was blazing (and me flash was so violent it nearly sent a poor man tumbling into the rainbow-glinting drink below, blinded by the beam…I do not think he was all that comforted when I spat out, “Oh oopsie daisies! I had no idea it was that bright!”)

Yes, blazing indeed, and…far more exemplary than fireworks, I’d have to agree.

Cheers,

Autumn Jade

The Art of Rabbit-Charming

Tags

Anecdote, Animal Rescue, Animals, Black and White Photography, Comedy, Florida, Humour, Misadventure, Nature, Nikon, Photography, Rabbit Walking, Rabbits, Story, Strays, Video, Writing

The night was humid and tangy, heady mist hovering in the air. The sky was low and moldered with deep purple cloud, reflecting in swirls the city’s incandescent glow.

I oozed along the gritty path, sweat creeping down my neck. Feral cats caterwauled and twirled ahead. I stopped to gaze at them when I noticed the black silhouette of a rabbit- a domestic rabbit- right amongst a sea of rowdy felines, ferine.

Rabbit Noir

“Are you trying to catch that rabbit, too?!” came an excited exclamation from a female voice.

I swiveled around to face a beaming woman with a crine of giant, lemon-hair outlined brilliantly in the gauzy strobe of the path-light. Her smile beamed through the darkness.

I must have had a sickly, rabbit-besotted look on my face as I stuttered, “Oh right, certainly so!”

“I’ve been trying to catch her for DAYS!” the woman boomed as her Siberian husky-dog companion stepped forward and my hand warbled gently onto the top of his silvery head.

Sir, another Rabbit-gatherer

“Well, I’ll gather her up then,” I said.

“It’s just about impossible! Oh PLEASE if you catch her will you give her to me?! I really want her!” cried the lovely blonde-haired companion to canines.

“Oh right,” I murmured, gazing into the gelid blue eyes of the great dog, his tongue lolling.

A dyspeptic sort of smile crackled across my ruddy visage, imagining a rabbit taking up residence with this fine canine…

Then came a gust, the lass bugling with a touch of doubt about her elongated words, “GOOOOOD LUUUUUCK!”, as the ashen-grey sled-hound suddenly javelined forth, hurrying the dog-owner quickly away.

I turned. A cat rolled into the stubborn rabbit who staunchly held her place, her head poised, haughty. I belched forward.

The rabbit shot into the woods at approximately 90 mph. Hum. Not like the usual wild rabbits that seem to always swarm at my feet, darting up to me in the millions, as if I cram my shamrock socks with carrots and don stylishly-leafy celery stalks behind my ears as a nice accent to my Timothy hay wig…

I wobbled after the rabbit. The air was like still water.

A lettuce-lover

In complete darkness, amidst some kind of inky-black copse of tangled bramble and twisted trees, I was compelled to kneel down for a moment to brood about how to gather up the creature. My hand found itself lightly alighting right upon the head of the long-eared creature.

“Ooofffeee!” I muttered and the rabbit dissipated.

I puttered about and decided that I could decipher just where the lagomorph would emerge, out of this great patch of weald. I swirled all the way around to the very back of the deep patch, where I knew there was a quiet spread of grass, quite secluded.

Astoundingly, my pathetic bit of rabbit psychology proved correct as I came beetling up to the creature gently grazing and barking off more rambunctious cats. One cat, I noticed, had just assembled himself into a wobbly pouncing position.

Some felines fear rabbits, like this one here

The mouse-lovers sprayed away as I appeared, but the lettuce-lover seemed shocked and merely gawped at me. I had done it. I could see it in that glazed look hovering in her wide doe-eyes. The rabbit-charm never fails. Twelve seconds later she was in my arms, purring, whiskers tickling the neck.

See, these cats are fleeing some bully bunnies in the other room

Having never held a rabbit before, I carried my new rabbit-roomie off into the darkness, to soon take up residence with some wee-woodland-creature-fearing cats and greens-flinging, hay bequeathing humans.

Needless to say, aye, the rabbit was most content.

In need of a dear ol’ chum

After some months, however, a depression overtook the cilantro-and-carrot-gobbling being. She was in need of a fellow long-eared companion, it was concluded.

I was off to the park again, this time with Sir, to muse over where to obtain this new chum for the rabbit that had strangely become known to us as Gandhi-Poe Lassie.  Would there be a rabbit at the shelter, perchance? Perhaps we should check the online ads.

We were not haunting the park more than three seconds when Sir spotted a white-blazed, pink-nosed, black pet rabbit huddled against a yellow parking curb. Oh my.

Rabbit Musings

It seemed our musing was over.

He bleated to me, I got out to attend to the rabbit, and Sir sped off to go get a cage and a net from the house just down the way. Hmph. Who needs those things?

I began to radiate rabbit-charm when a human being approached from behind, yet again, and the wee woodland creature darted underneath a parked car. Oh dear.

The approacher was an octogenarian woman looking to vacate the park. Her instant assumption was that the rabbit now crouched beneath her pale Lincoln car was mine, and that I was of in the habit of stowing pet rabbits under whatever cars I liked, whenever I felt like it, regardless of consequences and who I might hurt.

Too cute to stow and leave under cars

Well, I am not one to sway about and attempting to explain things. I am one of action. I decided I would get right to work gathering up the creature.

A nervous first-meeting

I was nervous, however, and my radiating rabbit-charm was askew as the woman stamped impatient feet and huffed to the heavens about the oh so grueling oppression of the Impetuous Youth, of which she readily decided I was most assuredly a member of.

My crawling about and cooing beneath her car seemed to exacerbate her aggravation, and did nothing to entice the rabbit to scoot elsewhere. I attempted to snag, and he would shuffle out of reach every time.

Just a thought

The Lincoln-owner decided starting the car might help. The rabbit seemed to find the gentle bombilation of the engine relaxing.

At last, I decided to bellow and have convulsions underneath the car, to the automobile-owner’s audible dismay, and the rabbit slipped out of the shadows and pranced across the way in order to perch on some coquina-limestone outcroppings. Obviously, he did not find it prudent to while away the hours under cars with humans having fits.

I oozed sheepishly out from underneath the vehicle and the grey-haired woman sputtered a rapid, “THANK YOU!” at me as she speedily evacuated.

Some onlookers smiled as I wobbled over to the limestone. A grin had manifested itself on my face as I recognised the look the lagomorph was beaming at me. Yes, I knew that look- “Right-ho, pick me up, all ready to go now.”

Bunion Claude

There was a hazy film hovering in the rabbit’s auburn eyes. He was charmed. He was almost smiling as I scooped him up and hoofed it home, as at last, the heat was quelled by the commencement of a gentle, sluicing rain. The rabbit, named Bunion Claude, seemed to like the soft shower, and purred in my arms.

Timothy-hay-muncher

And so, that was how I became rabbit-roomies with the two fine foot-slapping, white-cotton-tailed creatures. They adore chasing the trembling cats, gobbling red leaf lettuce, and munching hay from my wig as I pat them contentedly on the head in a sort of rabbit-loving haze.

Cheers,

Autumn Jade

Is that a Whale Falling Out of the Ocean?

Tags

Comedy, Compliments, Creature, Gollum, Humour, Imp, Joy, Ocean, Peculiar, Photography, Quote, Sea, Silly, Surf, Surfers, Video, Wave

Most common compliment bequeathed by surfers- “Dude! I thought you were a sea-turtle!”

“It is hard to resist a flatterer who gets it right.”

-Robert Brault

The top compliments of me olde, barnacled life have been when I was mistaken for a whale (I wept, I was so honoured- can read that story here if so inclined), called a “shark whisperer” (adinparadise, a dashed lovely blogger, called me such only very recently, the thoughtful dear lassie!) and told I look identical to the sibilant stone-creature dubbed “Gollum” from the “Lord of the Rings” films.

(Never have managed to catch a wee glisk of any of the films, and fear I have also neglected to read the books, but I did see an advert once, and blast, I really do look just like that gorgeous, bulbous-eyed stone-imp!)

A most stupendous Wave to fall out of

Right-ho, so, to celebrate being called a whale, amongst other dashed precious things, I thought I would share a silly, wee video featuring a day in the brine. Perhaps it may reveal why a smiling toad might just be mistaken for a whale when engaging in the delicate and suave art-form of falling out of the ocean.

Thank you for sluicing by,

Smiling Toad

A “Happy” New Year from a Slightly Disgruntled Sir

Tags

2013, Black and White, Cafe, Daughter, Dry, Family, Father, Florida, Fun, Hats, Humour, New Year, Photography, Photoshoots, Portrait Photography, Relationships

Hello, this is Sir. Happy New Year, you say? More like Crappy New Year… Why so dismal and dreary, so deplorably dark? Well…life is not the easiest to live when it consists of a series of endless photo-shoots. Yes…living with a paparazzo protégé has its hardships…

First off…she picks out horrid outfits for me to wear, like I’m some kind of doll-like thing…I mean, look at this! The torment…and she has about 23,000 hats to put on my head. All to appease that dratted camera Eye clicking in my face, glazed over like that of a predator’s before the pounce…

Sometimes, I pretend to fall asleep and pray that when my eyes open again, she’ll have lost the camera….but I know it isn’t so, because I can hear the camera clicking incessantly the whole time I’m wishing in darkness

Even when I start to cry, she doesn’t get the hint… “Why Sir, you’d make a perfect Scrooge with those sideburns!” (they were HER idea, by the way, so was this ridiculous coat, and all these blasted hats) She continues, “Aye, arg, you look like you’ve strolled right out of a Dickens novel!”

“Brilliant!! You look just like a mobster, some horrid beast from ‘On the Waterfront’, ooo yes, work that gritty magic, fabulous! Woo work that aquiline nose, too perfect!” Is that supposed to be a compliment? Must gently remind her later she might not consider becoming a model-photographer…

“There’s the calculating, gritty and arid city-slicker, oooo what a glare! Yes! You look just like a hit-man!” More flamboyant flatteries flow forth…

Sometimes, she finally stops shoving her beloved in my face to take a photo of something a bit more practical. I get some relief to brood.

Sometimes, I can steal away whilst she’s busy falling into the river or something. Maybe even while she’s occasionally photographing something of interest…or something not so interesting…

Drat! The ambulating camera found me…”Oooo Sir, you have a Bogart look going there, I MUST capture it!” Another thing this camera-fanatic lacks whenever the “eye” is poised in hand, is decorum. See…car-fanatics or motorcycle enthusiasts or avid surfers still have a lot of time where they must be apart from their beloved darlings. They cannot tote their surf-boards, Corvettes, and Harley Davidsons everywhere they go- they can’t take them into the middle of the farmer’s market (hmm…some might try), to the theatre, or into a quaint little bistro or café for their dainty tea-time appointments. But the camera fanatic is different. She drags the thing everywhere with her like Linus and his blasted blue blanket. Her beloved is glued to her hands and poking in my face everywhere I turn…

And the hats….Here our demonette was photographing so avidly that some nice lady came prancing up and giggled into my ear, “You must be quite beautiful to have so many photos taken of you! Haw haw!!” Her husband, a huge hulking guy in a fleece jumper, was beet red. Then the lady kissed the hat…I don’t know how she could stand it, darn things reek of cigar ash. Where does Babs find these blooming hats, anyway, and how did she accumulate SO MANY of them?! Meanwhile, Husband looks like he’s gearing up to beat my face so hard the darn hat will go sailing clear across the room…

When she’s not having me break up marriages, Babs also likes to “pose” me around downtown, to do a “noir” shoot… “Brilliant, brilliant Sir!” she chimes at me all the time, “You look suave, perfect, so smooth, so noir!” I know what she’s really made me look like…a panhandler…

Or this guy. She’s not fooling me…

So, now a New Year is rolling in. I suspect 2013 is going to be filled with more and more of these “brilliant shoots” with Babs and her dratted pet camera…so, I’ll cry here in the blue light and think of days of old when she was only so high and gave me licked-dry doughnuts for a gift and thought it was funny to throw footballs in my face, call me a “bobo” and draw unflattering pictures of me- but did not OWN A BLASTED CAMERA! P.S. If any future prospective employers find these infamous photographs (that I know my tormentor will slap online with chop-slaking glee), the possibility of obtaining such job will become…toast…

A most content and deeply chuffed New Year to all, happy 2013 from a slightly disgruntled Sir and a wee smiling toad, Autumn Jade.

Cheers!

A Briny Blunder

Tags

Al Green, Beach, Black and White, Blunder, Carpe Diem, Clumsy, Falling, Florida, Frank Sinatra, Humour, Hurricane Sandy, Inspiration, James Dean, Jocularity, Laughter, Misadventure, Nature, Nina Simone, Ocean, Pablo Neruda, Photography, Silly, Story, Writing

It had been an animated and tempestuous day. My brooding attire seemed to match the weather, jeans soaked to the knee, suit-vest fluttering in the grave wind, the sky above an infinite blanket of dreary blue cloud. We were on our way home and I had receded into happy brooding, the wild weather so fitting for it. And then it happened.

The sun suddenly dissolved through, and the cloud cover began to disperse into a fantastic mackerel sky. Radiant gold spilled out and illuminated the soggy city. Everything glittered. Already near the beach, we hurried along toward the ocean, keen on one last photo-shoot.

After parking, I catapulted from the car. Sir sort of loitered behind. I was soon hoofing along through the dank and rippled sands toward the seethe. The sky was aflame. Patches of cloud beamed a rose and orange sherbet. The waters were cast in a lambent champagne pink. Everything was glorious.

A great oooing and ahhing crowd had amassed behind me, clustered on the boardwalk. It seemed a mutual song was playing amongst them- Nina Simone’s version of “Feeling Good” perhaps. I found myself in the throes of a wee jig, myself, to that fabulous tune. The creamy moon that had vanished in the clouds was beginning to crown at the top, and cast lovely splinters of silver light onto the surf.

And then it happened. A wee little line of water began to wheeze toward me. I noticed it, but was snapping photos, and was half-deciding to let it swath my already dank track shoes. Yet, as the water slipped closer, I found I was also in motion. My body was moving back to escape the water, but my feet hesitated and stayed put. And so the center-of-balance was yanked out of place. Gravity languidly began to tug at my spine. I realised taking a tumble in the water was not extremely healthy for a camera, so I attempted to flail. Flailing, in theory, can help regain balance. I was unsuccessful, however, and discovered I was ever so slowly falling just like a great, cumbersome fir being felled by a smiling, spritely little beaver. Eventually, I landed on my back, completely flattened. The little coy dribble of water had expanded from one inch to seven inches, and managed to completely sluice my entire body, from toe to nose, and even crawled all the way up my erect arm dramatically holding the camera above the onslaught.

Some sanderlings squeaked and quickly scuttled by. Bubbles crackled in my ear. I had just been completely conquered and overthrown by a gentle flow of ocean bubble-bath…

This did not do a thing to my jubilant spirits, other than elevate them. I leaped up as the water quickly receded and I was back upon a glass surface of shimmering sand. I found myself doing another wee jig as I suddenly became conscious of a rather eerie wheezing sound. I turned. It was my audience, er, I mean, the sunset-gazing crowd. A great long gasp had erupted from them in elongated synchrony. All eyes were widely agog, mouths ajar.

It was a strange moment; it was as if Babe Ruth had swaggered up to the bedrabbled plate, and missed the first two pitches to build tension, but on the third pitch, he points and grins, swings, and then promptly falls down, as the ball tumbles somewhere behind him. The crowd’s reaction I imagine would have been very similar indeed.

This pained me. I never like to see an audience, crowd rather, swathed in sorrow. I began to plod along through the dimpled sands toward the stairs. Sir joined me stunned with few words. I noticed that I was in fits of laugher, a bit of an uvid camera poised in my right hand. I could hear voices now.

“His camera!” a woman bugled.

His camera?

“Oooohhhh my GAWD! He’s gonna be so mad about his camera! I bet it’s totally ruined!” a young lass squealed.

He’s gonna be so mad?

“Yep, his camera is definitely shot,” said an older gentleman with conviction.

(An Aside: I could not help but notice all the male pronouns. It is true, I do slightly resemble James Dean, but still, I think it’s rather obvious I’m still a lass…oh right… I understand. Only a bloke would be so clumsy, eh? Well, I’ll have you know I’m the clumsiest lummox I know, and proud of it. And I am entirely lassie. HMPH!)

Well, I danced up the stairs, Sir following behind, and then soon vanishing to the car. I lingered a moment on the boardwalk, grinning amongst the luctual crowd. The song “Feeling Good” had definitely ceased, and was replaced with Al Green’s “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart”. Or rather, “How Can You Mend a Broken Camera?”

I was wringing out the edges of my suit-vest, smiling to myself recollecting how I had purposely worn all cotton today, just in case…something damp and soggy was in store. Peculiar how one can sense these things, sometimes. I believe I was even laughing out loud when one kindly woman bravely stepped forward and spoke for all the haggard and grief-stricken onlookers, “I just wanted to say, I’m soooooo sorry about your camera. You must be devastated. It has to be ruined.”

I noticed her eyes were glistening. (My goodness…don’t tell me that is the shimmer of tears…great scott! What a serious lot this is!)

In my usual annoying custom, I chimed at her in a bit of an Irish brogue accompanied with a series of animated hops, “Oh nooooo lassie!! No fretting, no worrying yer heart out, there now! ‘Tis fine, I say, absolutely grand! This ol’ camera here will be just fine, indeed!”

It is true, the camera was definitely in a bit of a drizzly condition. But blast, I was determined to cheer this crowd that had clearly missed out on one grand chance for a chortle. I mean, you observe a squirrely lass take a spill after a great onslaught of a few inches of gentle water, and your first reaction is sorrow?! WHAT?! If it were a poor little girl pushed over by some picaresque and nefarious bully, I would understand, but come now! Well, I thought it was funny, and I was not going to suppress that.

I proceeded to chortle, immensely.

“So…” the lady began again, “your camera is going to be all right?”

“She’ll pull through!” I boomed.

A faintly, friable smile began to tremble upon her lips, “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“Aye, arg, fabulous! Haw, haw, and how ridiculous that was, eh? Just think, of all the times I should have fallen, it had to happen when I least expected it. Such is life, eh?! I was wading IN Sandy’s surf, earlier today, wind roaring in my ears. No hint of gravity to take me down. After that, I decided to scrabble along some slimy rocks as torrents of water continuously slammed them. Not a slip. So, then I clambered right up a very slippery, dead mangrove tree that rocked violently right over the water, gust of hurricane winds slamming against me as I snapped away with the ol’ camera. No hint of slopping into the drink below. I even became grossly entangled in some ghastly thorny vine, and all the Fates should have dictated that I go tumbling right down the hill and into the brackish waters slapping the shore, but NO I managed to free myself unscathed! Even when I went skipping onto the world’s ricketiest, most water-slicked dock, sloshing in the water like a bath-toy, not a bit of it, not even the tiniest threat of falling. Then I come beetling over here, wander onto this seemingly tranquil and non-threatening beach, and I find myself, well, we found ourselves, rather, if you count briny camera here, completely flattened by a little trickle of harmless bubble-bath. Such moments, AYE they make me adore life indeed! TOO funny!!” I exclaimed.

Well, that did it. I noticed, at last, the lugubrious tone of the great, grieving crowd was ebbing away at last. Smiles began to creep out. Still in shock, a bit, but beginning to appreciate the humour, I could tell.

“Oh I hope someone got that on film!” I guffawed as I began to depart from my friends.

“Oh yeah I did,” I thought I heard someone mumble.

Yes, I left the crowd with a different tune, now. Frank Sinatra’s version of “That’s Life” was blasting away as we pulled out of the parking-lot and receded into the darkling antitwilight, on our way home.

A word to future onlookers- always laugh before you think. What a crime to take up worry when one could be laughing.

Mirth is important, aye! As our Pablo Neruda would likely say right now, possibly whilst puffing a wee stogie, a bit of a ludic smile playing at the edges of his lips ‘neath that pencil mustache (I think he had a pencil mustache…), “Laughter is the language of the Soul!”

Carpe Diem, and cheers,

Autumn Jade

Humble is the Weaver of the Web

Tags

Black and White, Blogging, Humility, Humour, Nature, Quote, Spider, Web

Such is the quiddity of Humility.

“Thus spins the spider, hated by many for its spooky bite, its clingy web, the feeling of neglect its presence leaves behind.  Yet it weaves its web and catches its prey to the best of its ability, and if you happen to capture a glimpse of its artwork glistening with dew in the sunlight, you think how bejeweled is the creator of that webwork.”

-Quote by Marsha Lee, dear friend and superbly inspiring, talented, humourous, and entertaining blogger. Please feel welcome to drip by her blog and imbibe of her literary adventures- and I greatly encourage leaving a comment as she will dazzle and enthrall with her wonderfully scintillating and winsome response: Marsha Lee

Many good cheers,

Autumn Jade

Photography Teaches Tolerance?

Tags

Birds, Black & White, Children, Crab, Florida, Humour, Introspection, Lads, Laughter, Nature, Pelican, Photography, Sea, Sebastian Inlet, Smiles, Sunrise, Sunset, Tolerance

I believe one could be accurately classified as adequately tolerant if one is the sort that will allow onslaughts of slimy, smelly cadavers to be tossed onto one’s head in a great, heaving torrent from the heavens above.

Well, let me back up a bit.

It began as a glorious morn. The sunrise pinching the sky, rosy light playing on the edges of perfect little waves. Seagulls sailed above, pelicans lumbered contentedly along the swell. It was a fine and chipper morn, indeed. 

Then, I became possessed with the idea that we had to go romping to the inlet to get some pelican photos. This struck me as a most fabulous plot. So, after the usual tottling about with errands, we were soon humming along on our way to Sebastian Inlet. And how beautiful it was, smiling away, water scintillating, dinosaur-headed wood storks sauntering up to us like teenagers with their wings jammed in their pockets, hoping that we may be crawling with fish heads to bestow unto their clanking bills. A nice breeze tussled through the palms, and I noticed a gopher tortoise shuffle by, munching on some fresh, sun-baked grass. It was a fine day, indeed, but no sight of pelicans.

I meandered over to the rocks that separate the tidal pool from the channel rushing into the sea. Scrabbling onto the great rocks, camera almost colliding with shattering death as it oscillated back and forth from my neck like a pendulum (I always forget it will do this…), I became conscious of a permeating dead-fish odour. Promising. I clambered along, just below where the fishermen greatly enjoy cutting fish, and poised on the rocks were my lovely brown pelicans, blue-eyes smiling away at me. About 12 of them were clustered there, males, females, and juveniles. I nestled within inches, all crumpled up, and in position. The birds were a bit nervous, but overall, accepting of the giant, black eye clicking in their faces.

Was entering dream-camera-pelican-loving land, delightedly, when suddenly I felt something very small, very wet, collide with my head, and the eyes of a nearby pelican glazed over and seemed to be debating whether to lunge forth and swallow my head. He thought better of this, however. A sea of giggling also fell down from above. I began to gaze up, when another smelly little wet thing slapped me on the shoulder and then spilled onto a rock. I grabbed at it. It was the corpse of a little shrimp. Poor shrimp. I held it out to the pelican. Suddenly, my whole hand was inside pouch of pelican. This was an odd experience. I had always wondered what it felt like in there….rather rubbery…hand somehow made it back to freedom. Hmm…not slimy either. Shrimp was gone. Pelican looked at me with tilted head and backed away slightly. (This is one weird human, mates…) Huge guffaws of laughter spilled down from above. I looked up, only to be met with a sea of dead corpses sailing down, and squabbling pelicans all flopping about frantically to seize the things right off of me. It was fabulous.

“She’s taking photos!” the wee lads chimed from the heavens.

Yes, that’s generally what I do…don’t know why…look at all one must endure…

Harrowing world, photography.

I grabbed some stray corpses and tossed them to my birdly companions. The lads seemed to like this. Nutter crawling around snapping photos on the white-splotched, scale-glazed, slightly blood-stained, fetid rocks doesn’t mind having dead-bodies thrown right onto her head in a torrent at all, and even sticks her hand into pelican pouches- we like this one! Oh bother….

And following that adventure, I endured chattering youths following me about like those cheeping baby chicks that run along behind the harassed hen everywhere she flees. Ended up drenched, of course, rushing after phantom manatees that rush by like champion swimmers, and vanish, then being splashed by grinning dolphins. Almost bitten by a wee crab. Yes, he wanted to bite me, love bite I imagine. A wave nearly took me under as I was snapping away….more laughter from behind, above on the jetty, and all around. I guess I’m an ambulating sack of amusement.

Ah…

No better life than this. And to end it all, the sunset was glorious.

Cheers,

Autumn Jade