I thought it would be cooler in the evening, but it was still 90 degrees with high humidity. I walked through a mist of insect spray, gasping for air on the other end, and swung two cameras around my neck. Strolling the grounds of Chatham Manor, I was delighted to see the yellow swallowtail butterflies flitting from bloom to bloom on the Glossy Abelia hedge (yes, I had to research the name of this particular shrub). I tried chasing the butterflies, but in the end, it was easier to stand in one spot and wait for one to land near me. I was grateful for the auto focus of my digital camera and the ease of adjusting settings to freeze motion for these fast-moving subjects. But I still wanted that film look, with softness in the background. It’s really a challenge to do all this when you are sweating and trying to position yourself so as to avoid briars from nearby roses and stepping on other plants in the garden, too. But I persevered. (While I am often hard on myself, this is one trait that I do like about myself. I am determined. Some might say stubborn.)
I expected I’d work alone with only the sounds of the cicadas to keep me company. But there was a couple having engagement pictures taken by a professional photographer. I worked quietly, staying out of their way, careful not to put myself in the frame. But I could hear the photographer giving the young lovers instructions. Look this way, put your hand here, walk slowly, hold each other closely. The whole process looked and sounded dreadful to me. So much pressure in the evening heat. I have my own long-standing issues with body image and having my picture taken is still hard for me.
The sky began to change—a storm brewing in the distance. No cooling breeze yet, just big white puffy clouds. A few more pictures, making sure to to use the film camera for these views. The wall of stone sculptured busts glowing in the last of the sunlight, like some final release of a secret I’ve kept from myself.
