A photograph can capture a scene, an image, a fleeting moment, and transform it into an object of study.

Macro photography does this, but like super hardcore. By definition, macro photography is a 1:1-scale reproductions, where an object should be captured at life-size relative to the camera's sensor. The lens needs to be able to focus quite closely on the subject, and it should be able to capture as sharp and distortion-free an image as possible.

A steady hand is needed, because shake can easily blur an image taken so close-up. Having a lot of light and a wider aperture can help cut down on shutter speed, but due to the closeness of focus, the focal plane also becomes quite narrow, such that you can only focus on a single facet of a complex surface.

With all that technical description provided, I invite you to instead picture me hopping around shoving a camera as close to a grasshopper as possible, framing photos poorly, and having it jump around.

Not too, too long ago, I was having a great conversation with Sepi in which the topic of what we really cared about came up.

Music was among my answers. My friend was a tad incredulous.

How much did I really care?

A little over a week ago, I decided to go on a stroll from my parents' house to a park with hiking trails and preserved woodland.

I was interested in the hiking trails.

Then I got to them.

They weren't interesting.

The walk to the woods, however, was.

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It was a little bit of a hectic day.

I needed to mail a relatively bulky package, and being without a car, I needed to walk it to the post office in the early afternoon¹.

This is a time I'm not usually out. I was sure to bring my camera, because you never know.

And it was a great day for photography, particularly because I got to see this fellow.

It's unusual around this area to see a bird of such a vibrant blue color.

He was also quite small in size, and pretty skittish and distant from me, which made the photography more challenging.

No matter. There's always cropping in post-production, right?

Many, many moons ago in a parent-teacher conference, a teacher told my parents that given the opportunity, I would always choose to stop and smell the roses.

Strictly speaking, that's not true.

I think my mother's more recent observation that "no grass grows underneath [my] feet" is probably more accurate, especially given my tendency to sometimes not spend as much time visiting a place, or appreciating things as I should.

Let's hold that thought for now.