A change in perspective, literally, is what I need. The vacationing was a terrific remedy for the doldrums of life, but the excitement—and distant locations—of the Wild West are fading, fleeting memories. After a full-Friday workday of staring at the computer screen, I grab my camera and a substitute lens to the 24mm f/2.8 that I have been favoring for months. Photography is all about perspective, and you cannot expect to see anything new or different by looking at the world with the same set of eyes.
Even though the temperature is only in the high-eighties, the humidity is suffocating; no Ands, Ifs, or Buts about it. From my weathered back deck, I can see a healthy community of bees in the yard. From here to there, they go about the business of repetitively climbing in and out of the flowers which adorn the fence.
With camera in hand, I get close to inspect the hubbub of it all. Halfway between my yard and the neighbor’s turf, the busy bees fly between the two spaces, unaware of physical boundaries. Bees know no borders, I suppose. With my 60mm f/2.8 macro lens, I am able to enter into the bee’s world. I can see a fraction of what he sees, within the pink and white blossoms. From the shaded flower, the bee emerges wearing a cloak of fresh pollen. And he’s completely unaware, or indifferent perhaps, of my presence in the yard. He quickly gains flight, pushing his way into another blossom nearby.