Perfect Imperfection

So this evening my dreamy wife gave me my a pretty insane, pretty amazing, gift for my birthday, a Canon 100mm 2.8 Macro lens. The woman is mad! And quite awesome.

So, as anyone might, I quickly rushed out into the waning sunlight and tried to find anything to shoot with the new lens. And as everyone else in the same circumstance finds out, your choices on the fly for Macro photography are bugs and flowers. I jettisoned the lens into the camera. I hastily unscrewed the B+W 58mm Filter from my 50mm (Sorry 50mm) and gently screwed it into the new lens. Now I was freakin’ READY to shoot something, dammit! I wonder if that’s how people who just purchased a new gun feel? Or a mail-order bride? Probably. Hell, compared to that, I had it easy. I just had to find a flower or a bug, not some poor unsuspecting critter, or homeless person, to execute. Nor did I have to hassle with taking Oksana to pharmacist to fill her contraceptives prescription, and then shuttle her off to Walmart to gather up her school supplies. Just flowers and bugs for this first round. Easy peesy.

I found this quite lovely…Rhoditentricahre…I have no idea what kind of flower it is, but it was quite lovely so I decided to lose my macro virginity on it. That way if I lost focus or shot too soon the word wouldn’t spread since it lives on our patio.

I reframed and…Hm…

This fly decided to hone in on my flower. Okay, now we’ve got a flower and a bug. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.

And then another.

And another! Okay, just what the hell was going on? All of a sudden my patio was turning into a set for the Amityville Horror.

“Hey fly…I mean, flies! Uh, I thought you guys only liked sugar and poop? Uh, I hate to tell you but that’s not poop. Stupid fuc…”

I caught a wiff of something behind me. With a hint of trepidation I turned around and saw that our bulldog, Porter, had followed me outside and then decided to evacuate his bowels a foot behind me. And as far as bowel evacuation goes this was along the lines of Hurricane Katrina. Quite a poop. I hear that flies as far away as Pueblo were already in route.

I turned my attention back to the flies. “Sorry guys. I had no idea.” I looked sheepishly at my bulldog son. “Thanks bro. Without you all I would’ve had were stupid fucking flowers.”

Bill