Going Inkless

     In the staff lounge on Thursday, I ate my lunch quickly, scanning my smart phone and reading articles I don't remember.  When I had done with that, I looked at the clock.  With some 20 minutes of break time left, I considered returning to my desk early.  While I usually take a walk, I just didn't feel up to it, and I only wanted to get back to my work and finish out the day.  Such "dedication" is frowned upon for non-exempt employees, so after a bit of waffling, I put on my jacket and headed out after all.  A few steps out, the urge to keep walking took over.  Suddenly, I wanted to go as far and as fast as my feet would carry me, to walk until I couldn't anymore - to nowhere in particular.  A few steps more, and I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.  The transformation was abrupt and unexpected.      That morning, my daughter's dog Freya had gone on her last trip to the vet.  She had been sick for several years, had taken a particul

     I couldn't count the times I've wished I had brought the camera when I was walking in some park, forest, or other natural area.  I couldn't count the magical moments I've missed capturing because I was unprepared.  For years, I never thought to bring a camera anywhere when the function was not specifically to photograph something.  I'd be walking along and happen upon a scene of such beauty, where the colours and shapes were so perfect and the light was at just the right stage, that I'd stop and marvel and long to share without the means to do so.  Or else, I'd be sitting quietly in camp and a deer might slip silently from the trees and cross only a few yards away.  I'd hold my breath and watch, but then the magic was gone.  All the time, whether walking or camping or even just living my normal routine, the universe was giving me amazing gifts I was powerless to share.      So, now and then, when I had the foresight, I started bringing a camera to