You want to click that bigger. Bigger, baby.
Remember that little nature cruise we were on at Bar Harbor, Maine?
I started out on the top deck sitting behind Mr. G, honey and another nature cruiser. That was a bad strategy. A very bad strategy, indeed. With each click of my camera, one or the other of they who shall not be named shifted in front of me and managed to shove a shoulder, an arm, an ear, or a camera lens into my totally brilliant shot. It was not a good thing. I have many shots that will be for my eyes only research.
I need a moment.
The top deck was crowded. Getting some elbow room at the rail was Friday-night-at-the-local-sports-bar tricky. But I did. And after a few clicks, I happened to look down and see a nearly deserted lower deck.
I made tracks.
There was a cruiser lounging here. Another lounging there. But there was plenty of room for me and my elbows.
Sitting starboard, I looked aft — I’m feeling all Jack Sparrow at the moment — as the boat began to gain speed. The water, it was churning. Gloriously churning. This was not a half measure of churning.
I wobbled to the stern and began taking shots. And that’s when the wind took my hat and bounced it right across the churning water, and the water gobbled it up.
Gone, baby, gone.
A woman in front of me whipped around and said, “What was thaaat?” She had a little shock and horror thing going.
I cast my eyes to the deck and then back at her. “Um. That was my hat.”
My brain was more like — Wow, look at that sucker go!
Then — Hey. That was my favorite squishy hat.
Then — Uh, oh. Nature is going to eat my hat and die! Please don’t eat that squishy green hat little fishes, little seals, little birds, and honkin’ big Bald Eagles.
And Protestant guilt set in. Yes, we have it, too.
There was nothing to be done.
That hat had sailed.
This Close Shot Friday cost me a hat, gave me a healthy dose of Protestant guilt, and messed with the cosmic order. I have no doubt.
I had to buy a new hat. It’s green and squishy, too. It also says Life Is Good across the brim.
I’d show you my hat, but then I’d have to — you know — feed you to the fishes.
TGIF. You know what to do. Meet you in the bar in 3…2…1.