If you buzz regularly by my blog you may have noticed my proclivity for ridiculous angling in attempting to get photographs of ephemera that catches my fancy.
I teeter in heels up snow-covered rocks to catch sunset. I wriggle in less than pristine spring dirt to point my lens up at a blase butterfly. Just last night I swayed on a rapidly disappearing rock jetty as the tide crashed in and seagulls screamed and swooped at me. It was like a scene out of The Birds, but I got my shot.
An unusual angle on a familiar scene can tell a story, and give hints about the events and moods behind it.
My children and I recently attended their sister’s commencement and related festivities. Thousands upon thousands of people were on hand snapping pictures on cameras and tablets and phones–in so far as black and orange umbrellas could shield the electronics.
I’ve picked out some different angles on the celebration: the view from inside my rain poncho at commencement, some of my progeny to my right as they clapped for an award recipient in my daughter’s department, and the steel paw of her school’s mascot.
I paused there in front of a sculpture my husband had never seen, on a campus where so much and so many had been added since the last time he set eyes upon it, and added my own salt tears to the mix, wishing he could have lived to see this, every part of this, the steam punk paw, our astoundingly accomplished daughter and her supportive sister and brothers, the never-ending rain.