Webberville

I've fallen a bit off the wagon, in terms of Holidailies, haven't I? I never have been good at finding words when I have nothing to say.

I bought some decent new hiking shoes yesterday. The ones I had before were starting to wear out, and the heels rubbed me the wrong way. It seemed like good timing -- the weather's been nice the last few days, and I've got a couple of months to wear them in really well before I go to Mexico.

I set out today to go for a hike, but instead, I went on a little photographic expedition, as I often do. I drove out to Webberville, east of Austin, and found a park with a nice picnic bench to sit at. I took some pictures, but I haven't looked yet to see how they came out. It's that sort of day, I guess.

I came upon two realizations today, which seem to conflict with one another. I haven't really been able to reconcile them together yet, but I suppose there's still time for that.

The first is that photography is in many ways much like fishing. Sometimes, all you can do is find an interesting spot and make yourself comfortable, and hope something interesting will come to you. If it does, you can try to catch it. Sometimes, something wonderful comes; other times, you catch a nap. The trick, I think, is in being able to accept that.

The second realization, hardly new, is that life is fragile and fleeting, and that I still don't know exactly what I want to do with mine. The question remains: is napping on a picnic bench on a sunny day in December, next to a babbling river a waste of a day?