Photos from today’s bike ride: the once and perhaps future Eleanor Kidd gardens, and the weir on the river near First Street.
There’s some evidence that the city (or someone) has plans to renovate the gardens—there’s a rough road alongside the space, where before there was nothing, and some dirt piles nearby. I mostly hope something gets done. It was a lovely space, back when it was cared for. I went to a wedding there, and it was full of flowers of all colours and scents.
(The part of me that finds beauty in decay likes it how it is. Well, except maybe for the spray-painted penis on one of the pillars.)
I went for a short bike ride today, after I finished work: over the bridge and down to the riverbank. I managed to get a couple photos of a kayaker enjoying the weather, and I’m trying to decide which one I like better. I think I like the closer-in one, though I wish I’d focused it better. (Looking at it again, maybe I could lie and tell people I meant it to be an impressionistic image.)
(Actually, they’re both crops of the same photo.)
I also got a photo of one of the trees that died in the 2011 flood, with the new crop of willows visible behind it. That one’s at the top of this post.
The Space Weather forecast called for a slight chance of aurora and the peak of the Lyrid meteor shower, so I packed up my camera gear and went out west of town. I let the camera snap away for about half an hour before I decided I was tired and came home. I mean, it was a school night, after all.
I got one very faint meteor and no aurora to speak of, but that’s OK, I got some star trails out of it, too. And a truck passed by me on the gravel road, illuminating the field for me, so there’s that too.
Nerdy details: 113 images, 15 seconds each, 11mm, f/2.8, ISO1600, stacked in GIMP (no dark frames).
I had an epiphany, at lunch time, about my current short story project. I have an ending, now, a nasty bull’s-eye to aim my narrative at.
What’s more, a lot of things I’d already sprinkled into the story have come into focus, especially the doctrine of true names. The protagonist has a solution to his problem, but he’s so desperate to avoid it that he’s unwilling to admit it to anyone, even himself.
I wonder if I knew the ending all along, too, and didn’t want to admit it to myself.