One petal dangled from the wilting rose, barely maintaining its tenuous connection to the flower. Snow blanketed the few wilted leaves, a mottled green leaf edge glistening in the few rays peeking out from the billowy gray clouds. I'd spied the flower from my dining room window, knew it would make a great photograph, had grabbed my camera, slipped on my coat and headed outside as I'd done so many times before. At 47 I'd given up the dream of being a professional photographer, but old habits were hard to break, and being behind a lens was part of me.
As I was framing the shot, figuring out the angle Randy, the six year old in the house next door came running around the corner squealing in joy at being outside in the snow, his bright yellow boots, dazzling hot blue scarf and green winter coat a rainbow of movement as he approached. He slowed, and then stopped a few feet away watching as I went about the task of taking a picture. As I stood up he approached as he always did to say hello.
"Hi Patty, what are you doing?"
"Hi Randy, how are you on this beautiful day?"
"I'm fine, what are you doing?"
"I was just taking a picture of this flower Randy."
"Can I try?"
My first impulse was to find some excuse any excuse to say no, make my apologies, perhaps promise him an opportunity on some other day and get back into the warmth of my house, pour myself a second cup of much needed coffee. Just before I spoke I looked up into his face; saw his pleading eyes, his hopeful look of anticipation at learning something new.
"Sure, I'll let you take one picture."
With a shouted, "MOM, Patty is going to let me take a picture!", he took off on a run to the shared gate that separated our yards, slipping and laughing with glee the entire way. As he raced towards me he went into a deliberate baseball slide and stopped inches from bowling me over, then popping up like a Jack-In-The-Box began dusting the snow off his coat looking proud as a peacock at his antics. I smiled in spite of myself, marveled at his ability to squeeze every ounce of fun that he could find out of the day.
"So, how do I take a picture?"
Crouching down to his level I carefully explained how the camera worked, showed him which button to push to capture the shot, provided a brief explanation of the things he should look for in choosing a subject for his picture, then carefully slipped the camera over his knitted hat and around his neck.
"So, are you ready to be a photographer Randy?"
I watched as he gingerly lifted the camera into his small hands, watched as he examined it with a sense of wonder. "I push this button?"
"That's right Randy; you are a very good listener. So, what do you want to take a picture of?"
"I don't know, can we walk around the yard and find something?"
"Sure"
With that, Randy carefully headed back to the gate and on into his back yard, I following behind, watching as he went about his task. He would stop, carefully raise the camera to have a look, and then move on. He finally stopped at a bird bath that had been tucked into the Lilac bushes for its winter rest, snow frozen in its bowl. Again he raised the camera to his eyes, not satisfied he crouched down, looked at his chosen subject from a different angle and pushed the button capturing his prize.
"Would you like to take another?"
The smile bursting across his face told me another life long photographer had just been born.
As I was framing the shot, figuring out the angle Randy, the six year old in the house next door came running around the corner squealing in joy at being outside in the snow, his bright yellow boots, dazzling hot blue scarf and green winter coat a rainbow of movement as he approached. He slowed, and then stopped a few feet away watching as I went about the task of taking a picture. As I stood up he approached as he always did to say hello.
"Hi Patty, what are you doing?"
"Hi Randy, how are you on this beautiful day?"
"I'm fine, what are you doing?"
"I was just taking a picture of this flower Randy."
"Can I try?"
My first impulse was to find some excuse any excuse to say no, make my apologies, perhaps promise him an opportunity on some other day and get back into the warmth of my house, pour myself a second cup of much needed coffee. Just before I spoke I looked up into his face; saw his pleading eyes, his hopeful look of anticipation at learning something new.
"Sure, I'll let you take one picture."
With a shouted, "MOM, Patty is going to let me take a picture!", he took off on a run to the shared gate that separated our yards, slipping and laughing with glee the entire way. As he raced towards me he went into a deliberate baseball slide and stopped inches from bowling me over, then popping up like a Jack-In-The-Box began dusting the snow off his coat looking proud as a peacock at his antics. I smiled in spite of myself, marveled at his ability to squeeze every ounce of fun that he could find out of the day.
"So, how do I take a picture?"
Crouching down to his level I carefully explained how the camera worked, showed him which button to push to capture the shot, provided a brief explanation of the things he should look for in choosing a subject for his picture, then carefully slipped the camera over his knitted hat and around his neck.
"So, are you ready to be a photographer Randy?"
I watched as he gingerly lifted the camera into his small hands, watched as he examined it with a sense of wonder. "I push this button?"
"That's right Randy; you are a very good listener. So, what do you want to take a picture of?"
"I don't know, can we walk around the yard and find something?"
"Sure"
With that, Randy carefully headed back to the gate and on into his back yard, I following behind, watching as he went about his task. He would stop, carefully raise the camera to have a look, and then move on. He finally stopped at a bird bath that had been tucked into the Lilac bushes for its winter rest, snow frozen in its bowl. Again he raised the camera to his eyes, not satisfied he crouched down, looked at his chosen subject from a different angle and pushed the button capturing his prize.
"Would you like to take another?"
The smile bursting across his face told me another life long photographer had just been born.
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