Day 29: Black & White

I used to take lots of black and white photos, back in the day of 35 mm film. It was interesting to go out on a sunny day today and do this with my new camera — I haven’t really thought too deeply about f stops and shutter speeds since I went digital point and shoot, I must admit. Getting a digital SLR gives you a lot more control, which of course means you need to know a little more. After all the photography classes I’ve taken, all the hours spent in the darkroom, I do know this stuff — it’s just a little cob webby. But because I had so much fun with this one, I thought I’d give you a few shots. Especially since you’ve been so patient as I get my blog off life-support. I’m just fiddling with these, but thanks for taking the time to look. (Click for a larger look — the current blog layout isn’t really optimal for photography.)




Wednesday Poetry Break

One of my favorites from my brief stint teaching 6th grade English. I used to get so excited when the Poetry Unit rolled around. Surprisingly, so did a handful of the kids. Together, we ignored the rolling eyes, the fidgeting, the restlessness of the others who only paid attention during the Mythology Unit. “Their loss,” we said.


A Blessing

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

— James Wright