I keep meeting people that do not like cameras anywhere near them.
I feel like chef and everyone is on a diet.
A painter without a canvas…the person that I paint with the available light and enhance to round out my vision.
It’s ok.
Hope is not something I see as an exit sign but something that carries me through the fire unscathed.
No pressure on you bebe, just sharing my thoughts.
I guess I should use my blog for that, ciao
Oh wait! I just did.
From my backyard.

How to view a Histogram from Rasta Rican on Vimeo.

You don’t know me

I decided to take a trip up to the Stone Church in Cragsmoor and watch the sunrise.
I felt I needed some time alone but my Canon 50D thought differently.
As I was getting ready to leave it wrapped itself around my leg and said “where you going big boi?” One looked at that body and I was just as gripped as the grip it was sporting.
Of course I caved and away we went up route NY 52 about 7 miles up the mountain.
The deers on the side of the road looked at each other like wtf? Where is he going before 5 am.
I have lived in Ellenville for six years and that was on my list. I have some from the other side by New Paltz also.

Hope is the thing with Feathers
poem by: Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune with out the words,
And never stops at all.
And the sweetest in the gale is heard:
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
© Emily Dickinson

From my backyard

Test Post

For taking the time to view my images.
This an experiment with Bokeh