This morning I was awakened by the colours filtering through the curtains but by the time I’d crawled out of bed the brilliance was gone. But the challenge was still there …
THIS IS ONE
of the shots I refer to (and explain) in my recent post. It’s ANZAC Day here in NZ, and as an anti-war person I keep a low profile on such emotive occasions. Live and let live—or as some might say “Live and let die”.
Anyway, here’s your shot—
—such as it is after I’d taken out all the identifying bits (I much love my anonymity) (such as it can be these days … hey, Sam?).
WHICH REMINDS ME
only another five or six days and it’s open season on ducks. All the real men will be rising very early, dressing up as commandos in camo gear, arming up like US Rangers/Marines/SEALs/SWAT guys and getting out there to blast anything that flies (and occasionally, a duck).
Me? I’ll just pull the pillow over my head and try to ignore a racket reminiscent of the opening hours of D Day … luckily the novelty wears off by sunset and the rest of the season is fairly peaceful (even though the duck pond in the park in town suddenly develops a standing-room-only character. Ducks ain’t dumb).
POE and goodwill to men (and hot lead to ducks)