145 Days
It really doesn’t sound very long but in many ways it feels as though little Lydia has always been here. Recently I went back and flipped through photos of her only four months prior and was shocked at how much she has changed, right before me. I mean look what little has transpired in a mere four months. Brisk late fall air shifted into full-fledged cold winter chills, football transitioned into basketball and I’m only now starting to think about reversing the damage done from the excesses of the holidays. How did she do it without my knowing? She really pulled a fast one over on me. I suppose this is what the tired old cliche means – “They grow up so fast.” I guess I’ll be doomed to perpetuate the obnoxious tradition by lecturing soon-to-be new dads by uttering the phrase with a contemplative shake of the head.
As I sit and write this Lydia, already another 20 days matured beyond this most recently processed batch of photos, exhibits an all new repertoire of skills. She sits perfectly erect and unsupported on my lap, smashes the keyboard keys with open hands and my struggle is constant to remove her chomping mouth from the edge of the desk. Just imagine what wonders another 4 months will bring.
Lydia’s First Christmas
Christmas’s are one of the few things made of magic. Life somehow transforms into the supernatural for a few days. However at three months and some change I can’t imagine that Christmas is really any more surreal than the rest of life thus far. By the looks of little Lydia life in general must be pretty good. It is possible that there’s some sort of innate sixth sense that children are born with that senses the energy and aura of the season, who knows? Often I do get one of those glances from her that would suggest she’s got some insights well beyond her very young age. As if to say “I know more than you think pal!”
Red Afghan #27
Today’s post has nothing to do with travel – in fact is has to do with home. It’s also a blatantly selfish gloat-fest where I flaunt to the world how awesome I am. I even contemplated starting a new blog series titled “Beautiful Things Created by Me.” Unfortunately, I quickly realized little Lydia would be the only subject of the series. So under the thin guise of deep photographic philosophy and technique I’m secretly stroking my already inflated ego as I work her in as the subject of as many posts as I can manage over the coming years.
Actually, shooting babies (with cameras that is) is a lot of fun! There’s surely some obviously tired, syrupy analogy in there that photographing them requires a similar skill set to caring for them. It takes persistence, lots of attention, a delicate touch and above all patience. In these early weeks, I’m discovering that it takes somewhere around 35 shots to get one that really grips me (27 in this case is just above par). And it’s often difficult to even identify that one shot after sifting through four or five dozen that have only the most subtle of differences. I have to admit that I have a lingering feeling of guilt that I’m a terrible father who has created an unsafe home environment for a newborn, as I have my tripod permanently set-up with legs fully extended by the crib so I’m sure to be ready when she decides to wake and absorb the marvelous workings of a ceiling fan or the flicker of reflected light through the Venetian blinds. It’s helpful to remember that it’s those little, seemingly insignificant, details that can inspire the most personality in a photograph.
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