Untitled
Vermeero
A line of trees and the right kind of hazy evening light — a sirocco wind has blown in a sheen of dust from the North African Coast that hangs in the air like yellowing parchment.
The landscape here gives way — out go the regimented lines of Dutch dykes and polders, in come the lumps and bumps and undulations of hills and vales.
A green field rolls into view. That line of trees, silhouetted by the airborne Saharan sands, shields a whitewashed farmhouse that nestles in the dip where it’s warmer, if not drier.
You’re lucky: you have your camera. You have film in your camera. And that film, you have learned, will capture the creamy evening light to perfection. You stand there, perfectly still, waiting to take your shot.
At that moment an old lady wanders past. She’s walking her three-legged Jack Russell. She stops beside you, and stares, trying to see what you see.
“It’s just a line of trees,” she says, as the three-legged dog sniffs at your feet. You’re so caught up in the moment, that line of trees, that sky, that you don’t think to ask what happened to the dog’s fourth leg.
She moves on. You smile to yourself as you look through the viewfinder, and see.
And you take your shot.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Debra Broughton and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
