We finally got our taxes done. It's not that my business empire is so huge, because it's not, it's just that it does take a lot of time to count all of those mats and frames. I am always amazed when I start plugging figures into my spreadsheet. And, if I only had that $10,000.00 that my figures tells me is sitting in my studio, well I'd probably be on my way to the camera store for that lens I mentioned I could really use. each time I look wistfully off into the distance knowing I can't bring that subject close enough or try to get a saleable image of an eagle or a bull moose, I mutter to myself the same thing. "Have to have that bigger lens before I head off to Alaska or Africa. It will be a waste of time, money and effort, otherwise." So, now the numbers are in the hands of the accountants and I'm getting the urge. The urge, you see, is for all of the snow to be gone. It's going, but no soon enough for me. The sap is running and I know that new life is just waiting to burst upon the scene. I can't wait until I can hang up my heavy jacket, put the boots away and start wandering the countryside in search of that first new baby whatever, the first daffodil, the first moose calf, anything but dirty snow banks and muddy brown lawns.
Showing posts with label NH wildflowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NH wildflowers. Show all posts
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Getting The Urge
We finally got our taxes done. It's not that my business empire is so huge, because it's not, it's just that it does take a lot of time to count all of those mats and frames. I am always amazed when I start plugging figures into my spreadsheet. And, if I only had that $10,000.00 that my figures tells me is sitting in my studio, well I'd probably be on my way to the camera store for that lens I mentioned I could really use. each time I look wistfully off into the distance knowing I can't bring that subject close enough or try to get a saleable image of an eagle or a bull moose, I mutter to myself the same thing. "Have to have that bigger lens before I head off to Alaska or Africa. It will be a waste of time, money and effort, otherwise." So, now the numbers are in the hands of the accountants and I'm getting the urge. The urge, you see, is for all of the snow to be gone. It's going, but no soon enough for me. The sap is running and I know that new life is just waiting to burst upon the scene. I can't wait until I can hang up my heavy jacket, put the boots away and start wandering the countryside in search of that first new baby whatever, the first daffodil, the first moose calf, anything but dirty snow banks and muddy brown lawns.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Dirty Words Are Not Always Four Letters
Few words evoke a lack of enthusiasm quite like Mud Season, nine letters that really mess with a north country photographer's head. And like it or not, here we are. For those of you reading this who might not look at a change of seasons in quite the same way, here are the facts. Each year, pristine mounds of snow give way to rotting, decayed shadows of their former selves. A bleak brown harshness emerges from under soft sparkling blankets of quiet. The earth warms and once frozen ground becomes a quagmire of mush. There is virtually nothing worthy of a photographer's talents or efforts, nothing to capture that might lift a spirit or place a smile on someones face. Or is there? Birds return, sap flows and nature seems to know when our spirits need a boost. Just when we think we can't stand another mud puddle, new life breaks free.
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