We don’t have dramatic topography or structures in my area that are conducive to taking photos that tease our ordinary perceptions of scale. The land here in Lima, Ohio, is fairly flat. The few hills in this area are like sedentary folk in that they do most of their rolling while asleep. Our buildings are fairly short and squat as well. Short of renting a helicopter or buying a drone, I don’t have any vantage point I could use for a photo that says, “look how small we really are in the grand scheme of things.”
I suppose that some of our trees are tall enough to make us look small. I noticed this in a video I took of my husband and I walking through a local forest last weekend. The further we walk away, the more Lilliputian we look.
In reality, my husband, my daughter, and I are fairly short people. We ride together comfortably in a Honda Fit.
Last month, we attended a car show that had a few classic cars that are even smaller than our Honda Fit.
Here’s a photo of my husband walking by a 1957 BMW Isetta:
Perhaps the Isetta was the Smart Car of its time (but of higher quality, I hope). In this photo, my husband looks small enough to fit himself into that car twice over. While he is on the short side, I don’t think he’d have quite enough leg room in that Isetta.
I had technical difficulties with yesterday’s weekly photo challenge post. By the way, who is else is old enough to remember when TV stations would interrupt their broadcasts with the message, “Please stand by – We are having technical difficulties”? For whatever reason, my first entry for the challenge did not have a proper pingback, so I thought I would create another post, this time with a Throwback Thursday angle.
I have plenty of aging images in my photo archive that feature people walking around at fairs and parades. I took the picture below at a county fair ten years ago:
I would guess that this trio was on the verge of starting 11th or 12th grade when I took this picture. Unlike the other cliques of teenagers on parade for their peers that day, this group did not walk in sync. I wonder where life has taken each of them and if their roads diverged, as portended by their steps.
The theme for this week’s photo challenge is Pedestrian. My response to this week’s challenge does not show an exquisite setting for a stroll. Instead, my image is somewhat pedestrian in a different sense. A pedometer is a common (even trite) device nowadays.
The internet is full of “humblebrags” about step counts. I won’t pretend that I’m not proud of today’s number. I had back surgery seven months ago, and I can walk seven miles on a good day.
Today was the end of ice cream stand season in this area, so we made a final trip to the Creamery in Delphos, Ohio. The Creamery offers typical soft serve fare, but it also has an array of hard dip ice cream available in near-obscene portions at low prices. For less than $3.00, I was able to enjoy almost a pint of peanut butter crunch ice cream. If you ask for one dip, they will give you a cup packed to the brim with ice cream, topped with an impressively large scoop.
Whenever we visit this ice cream stand, I am enchanted with the old buildings in this small town. Actually, I should make another trek there on a sunny day just to get some decent shots of my favorites, including a curiously truncated brick Colonial home next to the Miami Erie Canal. I should also get a picture of the curiously named Mayflower Hong Kong Restaurant, whose name and mission are proclaimed with 1984 hardware-store-purchased lettering (also the year this restaurant first opened).
Leading up to The Creamery, there are some super small homes and businesses, including what appears to be a defunct insurance agency. Its abandonment is curious because hardly anything goes fallow in Delphos. This town is a farming community, so it has been somewhat immune to Rust Belt manufacturing decline.
I didn’t peer into the windows of this little building. If I had, maybe I’d have caught a glimpse of a white-shirted man sitting a desk with an Underwood typewriter and a black rotary telephone. When the phone would ring, he’d hope it’d be a prospective client and not a claim for a tractor that had taken a tumble.
I imagine such a scene because my mother once told me that some hauntings are impressions of the living. Think of the house you grew up in or the place where you worked your first job. If someone thinks such a place is haunted, perhaps it is because they saw an image of you flicker past.
I used to work in a freezer at night. Actually, I still work at the same establishment, just different hours and a different part of the business. Anyway, some of my co-workers have told me that they still see me (for just a split second, of course) walking down one of the freezer aisles.
I don’t like taking pictures with my phone. Compared to the clarity I enjoy with my DSLR cameras, my phone’s lens seems a distant last resort. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve tried my best to see its limitations as an opportunity for growth. The capacity to compose a good picture and to capture unexpected moments is essential to photography. There is no reason why I can’t accomplish those two goals with my phone camera.
Last weekend I took this picture while gazing up at the canopy of a forest dominated with sugar maples:
Had I used my DSLR, I doubt I would have opted for a wide angle that showed all the layers of change in this little patch of forest. There would have been little green in my telephoto shot. In using my phone, I could only opt for the wide angle, which proved to be the best vantage point in this scene.