Happy Disease.

Sometimes I don’t carry my camera with me when I step out of my house . . . purely for my own sake.

I kid you not. It would take me a week to get home some days if I had my camera with me.

F’rinstance, I see the clouds and think what a beautiful picture it would make. And, oh! look at the cornfields with the clouds above them…that looks like a calendar. That railroad crossing sign is perfect–I must have a picture. Oh, the hawk! It’s landing! RIGHT BY ME! Wow, look at that sky–such a storm. That lightning would have been perfect to get a picture of. Those sunflowers on the side of the road are just begging to have a picture taken–oh, look! now there is a rugged fence right behind the sunflowers . . . that’s even better! The way the telephone lines etch across the stormy sky asks to be photographed. The newly plowed field. The bright red barn with a horse and trainer out front. The crop duster. The swollen river. The cute elderly couple walking and holding hands. The perfectly picturesque bright blue hippie van with fabric garlands in the window. The mountains with sun rays streaming over them. The horses running freely across the field. The sweet new puppy.

I’ve gotten to a point where I see practically everything as a picture–and it makes me want to stop my car every few feet and pull out my camera. I have no time for this!

Seriously . . . it’s like a disease. A happy sort of disease, but . . . a disease nonetheless.

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One thought on “Happy Disease.

  1. I used to be that way with writing. The perfect way to describe something would pop into my head at every turn. But then it became annoying, because it was like I’d lost the ability to enjoy something just for what it was but was always looking at it in a detached sort of way as something I could cut up and paste together into a pretty paragraph.

    Speaking of writing, lately I’ve wanted so badly to work on a particular story of mine, but for some reason God keeps saying no. Oh well. I’m sure He’s got good reasons.

    P.S. I love your robin eggs. Can I steal them?

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