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photography

Adventures in mobile phone photography!

Mushrooms again!

You didn’t really think I was done with pictures of mushrooms, did you?

Alien Life © Amelia Beare

Alien Life © Amelia Beare

Not Mushrooms!

Tweaked on my phone, so it may look appalling on anything that isn’t my phone.

Following the falls © Amelia Beare

Following the falls © Amelia Beare

Lichen this mushroom

Taken during an excursion sometime in May. I’m running out of pictures to share already – must be time for another photo trip!

Or I’m going to have to start writing actual entries about my life… which requires getting up and out and getting one!

 

Lichen This Mushroom © Amelia Beare

Lichen This Mushroom © Amelia Beare

 

Tarn Shelf

This post is a long time coming, and probably far too short writing. The whole point of entries with photographs is to get to write as little text as possible and still have something (hopefully) worth seeing – amirite?

A few months ago (May), my hiking buddy Ben and I did a trip up to the Tarn Shelf, in Mount Field National Park. It was a glorious day. Chilly, but clear skies, lots of sunshine, snow. I got sunburnt! I wasn’t sure where Ben had in mind when he said ‘let’s go see the Tarn Shelf’, so I wasn’t very prepared for leaping from rock to rock, or the all the sun – previously when we’d been out it was usually dark and damp in the rainforest, cause I wanted to take pictures of mushrooms and he wanted to take pictures of rivers and waterfalls.

I’m resolved that, when we visit the Tarn Shelf again, it will be with lots of sunblock, and some trekking poles. I’m simply not long-legged enough for the last part of that climb without a little extra help.

So, anyone desperate to get me something for Christmas, consider a pair of these! (I’m not precious about the colour.)

I freely admit that I’m not great at taking landscape shots, but even a three year old with a camera phone and a finger up its nose could take good photographs of beautiful country.

 

Alpine Outhouse
Alpine Outhouse
A loo with a view.
A loo with a view.
Creeping Clouds
Creeping Clouds
One Path
One Path
More clouds creeping over the summit.
More clouds creeping over the summit.
First glimpse of the tarns.
First glimpse of the tarns.
Overlooking the Tarn  Shelf
Overlooking the Tarn Shelf

We were there looking for The Turning of the Fagus, a bit of a festival annually around here – especially for intrepid photographer-types. The patches of orangy-brown you can see above are, apparently, clusters of the lovely fagus tree (Tasmania’s only native deciduous tree).

For some perspective, here I am having a bit of a rest on a big rock:

 

Evidence I was there!
Evidence I was there!
Blue sky in the water.
Blue sky in the water.

Looking forward to more of these adventures. It’s great having a photographer buddy like Ben!

Spirit’s Passed

0945, Sunday the 6th of July, Spirit went to sleep in my arms for the last time.

Late the night before, she stumbled and couldn’t get up again, becoming incredibly distressed that her legs wouldn’t do what she wanted them to do. She belly-crawled around the floor, anxious to be near me, and almost certainly in as much physical pain as psychological pain.

My heart broke, and it feels like it’s breaking still – more than three weeks later.

Her own heart was still so strong, but her legs just couldn’t keep up with it anymore. Dementia was long-settled, and there were times she clearly didn’t remember where she was. She paced, and she paced, which was good for her heart, and her hind legs, but she couldn’t linger indefinitely.

In a way, it was a relief to have such a clear and obvious sign that it was time, but even after warnings from my vet, I was still not at all ready to say goodbye. Not even close. But I was often questioning whether I chose to delay for my sake or hers, until at last she made the decision for me.

A dog who can’t stand has gone as far as she can. And 14 is a good long life for a Malamute.

I miss her – all the time. Spirit was the dearest, gentlest soul, and I feel so lonely without her, even covered as I am in cats half the time. She left me too soon after Monster left me, and I feel like I really can’t lose any more right now.

I’ve been meaning to write this farewell entry for weeks, but I haven’t been able to sit still and write since it happened. I’ve turned my life upside down to avoid dealing with the loss, but I need to come back to the reality of what’s left behind.

We buried her, as I said we would, by the river on my parents’ beautiful property. Five silver birches were planted around her, and a seat will be settled in what we’ve already dubbed ‘Spirit’s Grove’. The saplings are naked and scrawny, and the grass needs to grow back from disturbance, but I will photograph the Grove in Spring or Summer, when the trees have had a chance to nourish themselves on what she’s returning to the earth.

The lovely vets at Montrose, who were so compassionate and understanding of Spirit’s pain and my abject and unabashed grief – really, I was a wailing woman made of tears and snot – sent along this lovely card soon afterwards:

 

20140711_110504

 

My animals and I are so lucky to have such good people taking care of us.

I’ve spent the last hour or so sifting through folders and folders of disorganised photographs, collecting together some of my favourite memories of my beautiful girl. I’d love to caption each of them, retell all the moments, but my heart really can’t take that kind of masochistic abuse today. Instead, I’m going to just share the lot of them, the only context necessary being that they were all taken with love.

 

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