“The only things you regret are the things you don’t do.”
(Michael Curtiz)
I try to not live a life of regrets. This means that I think about what I intend to do and the possible consequences of my actions. I try to understand just what is and is not within my control; operating under a doctrine of fairness in the case of the former, and one of acceptance with the latter.
But when things don’t go as planned, sometimes that all too human twinge of regret will surface. Like forgetting to snip off a manufacturer’s tag on the inside of a new shirt, it rubs, it scratches and eventually it must be removed. This is accomplished in the experiential world by means of that lovely little business term: “post mortem”. Meaning, look back for a root cause of a problem.
What I have learned the last few days is that I need to take my camera with me every time I go somewhere. Sure, it’s not always going to be possible, but when there is no excuse it is invariably inexcusable to leave it at home. On Thursday, we went to Lansing for a meeting of the state’s Natural Resources Commission. I remain up to my bushy-tail in the matter of the state regulating the rehabilitation of deer in light of the recent finding of Chronic Wasting Disease here so attending these monthly meetings has become the norm.
Staving off regret by packing up Matilda and all the lenses, we lugged our way across Michigan Avenue to the building in which the meeting was to be held under early afternoon light that was, as is the norm this time of year, low-slung, soft, but bright. It illuminated the state capitol building up the street with a sweet, sweet glow but there wasn’t enough time to stop and set up for shooting. I’d hoped the light would remain until after the meeting but hazy clouds were rolling in more earnestly by the time we exited the building. We set up anyway; I wasn’t going to regret not taking any shots this time.
All things considered, despite the looming November gloom, I did like this perspective:
I’ve already planned to pack Matilda for next month’s meeting, aiming for both an earlier start and hoping for sweet light.
So you’d think I would have been with it when we had to run errands on Friday. Leaving just as the sun was readying itself to slip below the horizon, as we neared the Shrine of the Little Flower Catholic church the day’s grey clouds parted briefly and an odd yet compelling yellow glow started to grow. Thoughts of racing home for Matilda began to bounce back and forth across my mind like ping-pong balls gone mad as I noticed the yellow glow striking the enormous marble crucifix that graces the front of the church.
We did turn around and go back for Matilda but by the time we reached the vantage point for what should have been an exquisite shot, the clouds had once again covered the last of sun’s rays as it disappeared for good. I was disappointed, to be sure, but swallowed that twinge of regret and took some shots anyway. To my surprise, the lights on inside the church tower had cast their own eery and very yellow glow on the back of the marble Jesus’ head, so during post-processing I decided the resulting image was better desaturated of all color and instead presented as a black & white:
I most assuredly won’t be leaving home with Matilda any more. But I must admit that it is far easier to simply walk out the back door and take shots in my very own yard:
The reactions from those in the backyard as I go about this are often better, too:
Beautiful!
*CLAPS*