I have this little 11-year-old pocket-sized point-and-shoot camera from Target that’s been dropped a lot. It comes on my every expedition, and is the provenance of all of the photos you’ve seen here on eve’s apple. It is my first and only digital camera, and it takes a nice photo. Which helps, since it has never occurred to me to take a photography course. This camera delivers shots good enough to delude people that I have a clue about photography. Aficionados sometimes try to engage me in camera-speak terminology and wait politely for a reply. They’re rewarded with a sheepish grin and a swift subject change. Sometimes I throw in a shrug.
So a few months ago, when the camera suddenly stopped showing the view through the lens, or screen, or window (see?), I tried to get it fixed. But the one remaining camera fix-it shop in New Jersey wanted too much for the repair. Soon after, the pandemic hit, and buying a new camera wasn’t a priority.
I tried taking shots on my phone. You’re wondering why that wasn’t the simple solution. But transferring them to my laptop so I can do post-production is a drag. And I don’t think it does as good a job as my crappy little point-and-shoot.
I despaired until I got over it. The camera still worked, still turned out great shots. I just had to shoot blind for a while.
And how about that for an apt parallel: It’s more or less how I’m living in 2020.
Work, keeping my house organized, staying healthy, making a point to forage so I can fill my freezer and keep my sanity as close to intact as is feasible in a year like this — it has been challenging. I’m enormously lucky to have a job, food, and shelter.
But I can’t plan with any certainty this year, the way I used to. I hope I’m doing the right things, as winter is clearing its throat in the not-too-distant distance and the world isn’t sure when a safe vaccine will be available. I’m doing my best in every capacity. But there’s no way around it. I’m shooting blind.
Tonight I went to get beach plums on Sandy Hook, and I found lots of new bushes. This has been a great year for wild discoveries, actually. Maybe it’s because nature is so soothing and I choose to stay out longer and wander down paths I’ve never taken. Or maybe it’s the universe throwing me a bone, trying to keep my spirits up.
It has taken a lot more time to shoot, obviously, and even more patience. What once was plan, aim, click has become guess, aim, click. But regardless, the shots don’t disappoint. I’ve even had a few happy accidents; some photos turn up that I never would have planned. It’s been kind of cool, stretching my brain like warm taffy, being surprised at something bizarre and different in my gallery, wanting to run with it and explore a little more down that path. When I can’t plan, I can discover.
I’m still looking forward to springing for a new camera and peering through the lens thing. To plan, aim, click again, as I used to. I’m an editor at heart, and sifting through a dozen shots at a time can be a hassle. But I’m going to keep my mind’s eye on that bizarre-possibility path, the one that can show up when I don’t plan. Maybe I can find a good balance. Maybe 2020 has something to teach me.
And this is really uncomfortable, but … maybe it was actually always like this. No, we don’t have a crystal ball this year. But the truth is, we never had a crystal ball.
It may be that our challenge is to do our best with what we have, work extra hard toward what we want to see through the lens thing, and trust that path.
Click.
Here are wineberries I picked last month in the overgrown gardens of an abandoned estate, with a blackberry I found along the way. This was the third click.
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