adventure is the doing of it. The rest is souvenirs and memories. But sadly, the adventure too often
make of it what we will. Armed with camera and portable ambitions I went to town on a wee adventure of my own and got some shots that cover the full range of fiction’s favourites—life and death, love, sex, violence, the forbidden … even a touch of homespun philosophy; and like Pandora’s blessed box, some hope.
IT’S SPRINGTIME IN NEW ZEALAND
and life is popping up like daisies. And sadly for the noble queen below, as other players step onto the stage she bows out. The cliché ‘dignified in death’ would be apt but she goes beyond that—and dammit, actually looks almost comfortable—
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Too brief, for some, with no time off for good behaviour. Twas ever thus; onwards, once more into the bleachers dear fiends …
EN ROUTE, A DIVERSION
and short cut, not. I imagine that this was once a busy wee minor road, possibly servicing even several farms. But getting closer one is struck by the obvious welcome implied by those bullet holes and an underscored desire for privacy. Ever one for a challenge I—
—turned left instead and bimbled along the estuary bank. All the locals here seem a bit anti-social, I was plagued by a squadron of sea birds hovering just above my head and squawking so loudly my ears vibrated. Must have nests nearby, I left them indulging in aerial acrobatics and combat. Nice loops …
MOVING ON AND
not in the least contemplating the adventure of a swim, (with or without snorkel and flippers) I happened across a pair of signs. One this side of the water, the other a mere dot in the distance—
—which provided the perfect excuse for not exercising the option of a late winter swim in so salubrious a stream. Idly I pondered the effect of thirty-three thousand volts and decided that if ever I bought a boat I wouldn’t anchor it here either. Honour saved, I wandered on.
TRAINS, AND BOATS AND PLANES
as the (now old) song goes … however it goes, it came to mind when I was ambling past the Pacific recycle yard. There they take ‘end of the line’ seriously and whole cars get squelched down into wee packets that only a machine with a strong magnet or big claws can lift single-handedly—
—and my eye was caught by the wee white vehicle nose down and tail up, somehow dignified even in that position and I thought right then that for that car, the adventure ends here …
AND LEST ALL SEEMS GLOOM
and doom at the far end of an adventure: did you ever see the animated cartoon movie ‘Fievel Goes West’?
Towards the wrap up the old dawg sheriff puts an avuncular paw on Fievel’s (wee mouse) shoulder and in a voice that only Jimmy Stewart could ever do tells him “…one man’s sunset, Fievel, is another man’s dawn …”
And it fits, much as this final snap. The beginning of an adventure?
This being not the season (I can’t explain it either) for these things I was determined to get the shots, which required laying full length at the edge of a busy bend with limited visibility and lots of enthusiasm.
An adventure in itself …
and for young Bess, a promise kept:
Herewith your image, exactly as seen and taken …Okay, maybe I should wear my specs more often. Blown up a bit it is indeed a lovely rosy snap. I like it~!