A Few Photos Which Might Bear Comment

A couple of years ago I was photographing flowers in Celia Wilde's (Sheryl's mom) garden in front of her house. Although there was plenty of light, even in the shade where these lovelies grew, I had a notion come to me that I should use the flash. This was the result. I was grateful.

I often try hard to get candid portraits that bespeak of what the subject people really are and what matters to them. But here, with these portraits of Sheryl with each of her parents, I just stumbled into the moments. We were attending the fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration of Sheryl's "Uncle Babe," Marion Wilde, of Pocatello. As I wandered around shooting pictures of cute kids and strangers, I found myself looking through my lens at these two moments which were several minutes apart. For some reason I was actually ready, a thing which never seems to happen when the subject is behaving perfectly. I love these shots. Sheryl's mom was only with us another six month or so after this.

Her love for her father is inspiring. If even one of my children comes to feel about me what Sheryl feels for him I will consider my joy to be celestial even if I don't make it to that particular kingdom. But I hope I do!

During our brief sojourn In the thriving metropolis of Shelley, Mico, our Maltese, had a friend with whom he never actually met. This was a Husky who lived on the other side of the fence. They communicated through tiny knot holes in the fence, running back and forth from one knot hole to another, and stealing peeks at each other through those same holes. I actually felt sorry for them. It was just too reminiscent of The Count of Monte Cristo, the young fellow communicating through the wall for so long with the old priest until they finally met. But with Mico and the Husky, there never was an eventual meeting.

This fellow was part of the impressive display of "prehistoric" marine life which the Idaho Falls museum held two and a half years ago. Most of the other creatures had functions which were more or less self-explanatory. This one, however, baffled me. I could never get anyone to tell me how he switched the saw blade on and off and whether it was powered electrically or just hydraulically by his rapid movement through the water. It also occurred to me, again without verfication from museum staff, that the blade might spin in reverse when the creature vomited. Just one of those questions for the great beyond, I suppose.