I discovered a jack-pot the other day; my Mom and Dad's old film Pentax cameras, hidden away in the top of their huge closet. I found 2 cameras, with 5-6 lenses; all in perfectly good condition. I also found a macro lens, which I decided to use with my camera--just holding it in front--free-lensing. It was definitely a different experience, but I went outside and played around with the settings and came away with these pictures. It was beautiful; the sun was an hour or so away from the horizon and it high-lighted the brown leaves that crunched beneath my feet and made the orbs of water on the dead grass shine. The trees were like bowers of twisted vines and made ragged lines against the sky that was as blue as my niece's eyes.
Before long, Liberty and Brutus joined me, and I managed to snap a few pictures of their faces, although Liberty devoutly refuses to look at the camera and ignores my attempts to trick her. Silly dog. The wind tousled my hair and blew it in front of the camera more times than I can count, but I only brushed it away and continued aiming, focusing and snapping. Finally I figured I had enough, and walked inside. Every time I take pictures, I remember why I love it so much. You capture memories--not just photos in every image that is stored on that little memory card.