It has become my habit to carry my little Lumix “point and shoot” camera with me whenever I go for a walk-about or for a horseback ride. The camera sits in my vest front pocket until needed, yet it also secured around my neck with a soft lanyard to prevent me from dropping it as I struggle to keep my horse still or continue to throw Jewel’s ball while taking photos. Animals! They often entail multitasking.
My camera carrying habit has richly paid off. It has made me a much better observer and drawn me into taking notice of light and angles and distance and framing. I do not fancy myself a good photographer, nor do I really aspire to being one. I lack the patience to learn the technology and, frankly, my old body simply doesn’t want to put itself into the contortions required to position the camera just right to get the right shot at the right angle. Mostly I just enjoy the process on my own terms, satisfied with reasonable quality photos that reflect my view on the world.
On a recent morning walk along our bench overlooking the riparian area next to the river, the mid morning light bathed the horses and beckoned me with my camera. Everything was so peaceful, quiet, and soft. Spring’s tender new shoots and just opening leaves on the trees cast an barely visible green filter over the view, rendering it a romantic scene from a British novel. It whispered, “take a moment, breath the clear air, pause for nothing but being still.”
As I walked down the incline, I noticed Tyler’s art in the background, a exotic object without a hint of utilitarian purpose standing in the pasture, inviting comment and wonder. The horses expressed no opinion. They ignored it. It is not edible. It presents no danger. It can’t be used for scratching or shelter. It just is. But for me it adds another dimension, another frame to capture with my camera. It held me for several minutes, watching its inert stillness while the horse lazily grazed about it.
Drawing my eye back from the art work, it landed on my Lovely Lady Lonza, aglow with the back light sun, strong, and totally in her element, without care or worry. The champagne color of her early spring coat which has yet to discard all of its thick winter fur, played with the light. While separated by a fence, I kissed towards her and she came, allowing me to caress her with my camera to capture the richness of her mane. She stood for a few minutes, letting we adore her with my hands and my words; then she turned and went back in search sweet new grass.
Hearing my kisses, our newest horse, Mystery, with his gangly teen aged body came also. It surprised me. Arriving as a four year old directly off the large ranch of his birth, Mystery has been here only several months. He was unaccustomed to daily interactions with people which manifested itself in some shyness and an initial reluctance to come forward to meet people. I smiled at his progress. I spent several minutes scratching him and turning my lens in his direction to capture his face, his beautiful soft eye, and the light brown tips of his otherwise black mane. He was a mystery when he came – hence the name. He is now revealing himself to be a kindly, curious, and willing young fellow. What more will he bring to us?
AUTHORS NOTE: You will see Mystery standing in front of a barbed wire fence. We at Dunrovin Ranch do not use barbed wire for fences except where there are cattle on either side of the fence. Horses and barbed wire are not a good combination; yet cattle don’t respect anything except barbed wire or electric fences. Life! So full of compromises.