I took up photography a couple of years ago, inspired by several things–the fact that various changes in my life made me begin to pay more attention, to see the world in a different way than I had before; the wonderful camera my Better Half gave me for a milestone birthday; and this blog, which, being so dark and all, cried out for a little color and light.
I’m starting to send a few photographs out into the world, sharing them with others. So for Christmas this year, several of my near and dear received framed photos. Maybe even (whispering here) . . . art photos. I sent these off with equal feelings of pride and sheepishness, but they were well received and I was pleased and relieved.
Yesterday I had a nice long talk with one of my aunts, southern by birth but now living on the west coast. Part of the conversation went like this:
Aunt: Oh, by the way, I like that frame you sent me for Christmas.
Aunt: Yeah, that neat black frame. Did you make that?
Me: Um, no . . . I bought it at Ikea. Did you like the photograph?
Aunt: What photograph?
Me: The one in the frame.
Aunt: Uhh . . . I thought that was just a filler, you know, like they put in frames before they sell them.
Me (trying hard to suppress the laughter that suddenly bubbled up): Oh. No, actually the present was the photograph. I took that.
Aunt: Oh. Oh. I put a different picture in it and hung it up.
Me (by now nearly doubled over with laughter): That sounds like something Granny [her mother] would have done.
Aunt: You’re right. Well, at least it’s in a nice frame.
All in all, it was a good reminder not to take myself too seriously.