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Looking through a digital lens is challenging

Capturing the rich tapestry of fall provides great photo opportunities
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For the past few years I have been trying to train my brain to think digital, mostly, digital relating to cameras.

My camera, specifically!

I’m not doing so well.

This fact came to light the other day when one of my daughters informed me she was taking a photography course.

I was impressed and eager to share all my profound knowledge of photography.

It turned out that took about two-and-a-half seconds.

“Mom, you know nothing about your camera,” she told me in that exasperated tone she gets sometimes.

I was, of course, properly offended.

“I’ve been taking pictures for years, I retorted indignantly. “Was I not the one who waded out into the Atlantic Ocean, Pentax film camera in hand, to capture a photo of you and your new husband in your post marital bliss?

I close my eyes against the present, allowing myself to savor the memory.

Newlyweds. A beach in the Bahamas with waves, so blue they hurt your eyes, rolling in.

In the camera lens of my mind, I see me resolutely wading out after the groom as he carried his bride into the ocean, her white veil skimming the waves.

And as I conjure up the memory, I can almost feel my heart pounding like it did on that day. Being a photographer at my daughter’s wedding was, without a doubt, the most important assignment I have ever had in my life.

But I digress.

That was then. This is now.

But getting back to then. I loved that little Pentax camera. I knew it like the back of my hand. It was, in fact, my friend. It came with me into freezing hockey arenas when I shot pictures while dodging pucks that came flying over the boards.

It came with me when I attended track meets and graduations and tea parties and bake sales and Remembrance Day ceremonies. But now it sits, unused and dusty, on a shelf full of other such memorabilia.

Yes, times have changed and, of course, it’s for the better.

A digital camera means you can take 50,000 pictures if you are so inclined. A digital camera means you don’t have to worry about running out of film, and resort to begging, borrowing or stealing from other reporters.

A digital camera means you don’t have to spend hours in the darkroom hoping and praying the negatives turn out like they are supposed to. It is not good when the opposite happens. Not good at all. Editors frown on reporters and mutter nasty, unprintable things when this happens.

Trust me, I know.

A digital camera is an amazing tool that has settings for almost any moment in time that should possibly exist. There are settings for low light, too much light and slow speeds and really fast speeds.

But I have to admit, my daughter is absolutely right.

Most of the time when I shoot pictures I take my wonderful digital camera that has a multitude of settings and I put it on ‘automatic.’

This is not good. I need to move forward.

As the kaleidoscope of seasons slowly moves through the exquisite colours of fall, photo opportunities swirl around us like falling crimson and gold leaves.

Inspired by my daughter, the photographer in training, I have many spent many of my free afternoons traipsing through the rich tapestry of fall.

And, in the process, I am becoming more acquainted with my digital camera.

I wouldn’t say we are close, like buddies, but I’m working on it.

And, it’s good. It’s all good!

Treena Mielke is the editor of the Rimbey Review. She lives in Sylvan Lake.