Last evening, the light was just amazing.
As usual, I was in the wrong place. So, I did what I could. This picture fits nicely into a sub-genre of landscape pictures called, ” New Landscape.” Me? I just call it a picture. Or, photograph. I don’t think photography has to be sliced and diced into little tiny meaningless data points.
Yes. There is a lot of post production going on here. The clouds were reflecting the low winter sunset. The shadows were pretty cool. The sense of time and place was what I was really after. A sort of wrapped in cotton candy, feel good kind of thing. There is also a nice contrast between nature and man-made.
Please don’t think yesterday’s post was a one-off. It isn’t. There are a lot of teachers in my life. Still working on logistics, but I’ll document what happens around here. The students want to walk. For now, it looks like 17 minutes at the end of one class. You know why.
I’m still thinking about it, but the adults around my age can mobilize and make certain everybody votes in November. Traditionally, mid-term elections have a tiny turnout. Those who vote can flip Congress. What happens if we have a massive turnout? What happens if the newly elected Congress people are beholden to nobody but us, the voters? And, dare I say it, what happens if most of the newly elected leaders are women?
Think about that for a minute.
We need change. We are crying out for change. That’s how the guy in The White House got elected. How Bernie never really stopped running. How Hillary never really stood a chance although the race was hers to lose.
What if youngish women replaced all the grumpy old white guys? I say this being and old white guy, myself. I’m grumpy sometimes.
What if that’s how both Houses of Congress get flipped? What does that do to the abuser in chief? I say that as much as he mistreats women, he is really afraid of them. Likely, they’ll get what they want, which is what we want.
Let’s find out.
Oh. Thank you to those who said such nice things about yesterday’s post. I keep that in perspective by reminding myself that I’m a photographer. Writing is something I do out of self-defense. Or, something like that.