Part 8

        I walked along toward the back of the house, noting the way the dew clung to every small thing, glistening, sparkling where the light caught it. I tried to think of how I could capture that delicacy - I had my zoom lens with me this time, but I wanted something different than dew clinging to grass blades, that wasn't it. I took a few pictures of the dew beading on rose petals, much closer up than I usually would, and that was nearer to what I wanted, the subtle shading of the rose petals conveyed the tenderness of the morning quiet. But it still wasn't right, it wasn't as... unearthly as I felt. And something in me wanted that to be what the photos revealed, not just the prettiness of the morning light shining off the dew, but the feeling the morning gave me.
        I looked around, and saw a dead tree in the back yard, off in a corner beyond the barn. I'd seen it before of course, but it was only now that I really noticed it, saw the potential in it. Barely noticing how wet my feet were getting by tromping through the dew, I walked around behind the tree, putting it between myself and the brightly pale sunrise. I took a few pictures through the branches, but that wasn't it... I backed up farther, to get more of the tree in the shot. I walked slowly to one side, then the other, looking through the viewfinder, trying to get a composition... and suddenly I found it, if I stood a little off to one side it looked almost as though the old tree was reaching toward the lightening sky! I took a few shots that were almost identical, just to be sure I had it - I knew the moment I saw it what I would try in the darkroom, I could bring up the contrast much higher, and maybe darken up the side with the tree a little, and give it almost a storm-ridden look around the tree, which stretched yearningly toward the soft promise of the sunrise...
        I took a few more pictures around the tree, trying a few where I moved the camera, to blur the image and give it more of a sense of the motion I felt it had... It was very strange, I felt led by the images around me. It didn't feel at all like I was in control, I was just a means of conveyance, it was as if my usual conscientious rationality was being bypassed, and things went directly from my eyes to my heart and my hands responded with the camera without thought. It almost seemed I might still be dreaming... (It wouldn't have been the first time, but I absolutely hated dreams like that, where I'd taken all of these gorgeous pictures and then woke up and realized I didn't actually have them... dreams like that had actually made me cry in frustration and loss.)
        I turned slowly to look around the yard, deciding where to go next, wondering what places would look best in such ethereal light. I noticed a bit of fog laying in the lower dips in the fields around the house, and I moved toward the nearest. I crouched low to the ground, trying to get a shot filled with the fog... I moved in closer, the mist wrapping wispy tendrils around my ankles and knees as I stood in its midst, then knelt in the grass, having spotted the tall spike of a wildflower, something light blue and almost daisy-shaped that I didn't know the name of. Its leaves had sharp points to them, the whole plant had a jagged sort of look to it, very angular and sharp against the mist in the grasses around it. I smiled as I took another half dozen shots.
        By this time, I could sense the world starting to wake up around me. I heard a few vehicles drive by on the road, the animals in the barn were making more noise and I could hear Mr. Mayhew making the rounds feeding them. I heard a shout and a peel of young laughter, I heard a screen door slam, I could feel myself coming back to earth. I didn't want the feeling to fade, I longed already to have back that which I had barely lost yet...but I knew it would return. Probably not until I stopped looking for it, though - like the kids in the Narnia books, they could never get back by trying to, it just happened when it ought to.
        God that was a frustrating thought.
        But somehow it didn't entirely bother me, I still felt incredibly peaceful...and hungry, once I thought about it. I headed back to the house, somehow I'd used up two rolls of film already, and I didn't have any more with me besides the roll that I'd already put into the camera. I was really going to have to keep myself from spending my tiny paychecks on anything besides film, if I was going to make it through this summer. A small groan escaped me as I realized just how many rolls I was going to have to develop once I got over to the darkroom on campus. Maybe if I had to deal with this many rolls, I'd finally get decent at winding it onto the reels in the dark...
        When I reached for the handle of the front door, Caleb appeared out of nowhere and darted inside ahead of me. A sharp gasp of a shriek escaped me, and he laughed as he raced through the halls and pounded up the stairs to his room. By the time I reached the kitchen, he'd run back down the stairs and out the door again, a piece of toast in one hand and a hammer in the other.
        "I hope that little hellion didn't wake you, Kris!" Mrs. Mayhew chuckled from in front of the stove. As always, whatever she was making smelled fantastic - some sort of omelet I thought.
        "No, I was actually already up... it was such a pretty morning, I went out and took some pictures."
        "You really do love photography, don't you?"
        I was thoughtful for a moment, still trying to wrap my mind around the strangeness of the morning. "I do, yeah... I still have a lot to learn, though."
        "Well, practice is the way to do it!" she answered cheerily, flipping the contents of the pan deftly. "Would you like some breakfast, dear? The hens are laying beautifully, I have more eggs than I know what to do with."
        I started to politely decline, I still felt awkward about the extreme hospitality I was shown, but she cut me off. "Now don't you go being shy, I've told you that I am honestly incapable of cooking small amounts of food." She gestured pointedly at the plate next to the stove, which had a small stack of omelets already on it - and I noticed there was still a large bowl a quarter full of egg mixture nearby.
        I giggled and conceded. "If you're sure it's no trouble..."
        "Oh it's less trouble if you eat, it'll save me time packing up leftovers later!"

        An hour later, I was stuffed full of amazing omelets, had showered, and found myself with two small minions in tow.
        "Bring them back whenever they start driving you crazy," Mrs. Hamlin, their mother, insisted. The girls lost no time in dragging me over every inch of the farm, showing me all the little hiding places and favorite nooks that little kids always have around a place. They showed me where the barn cats slept, and we spent a good half of the morning playing with the small swarm of kittens we found there near the hay bales. I was honestly pretty amazed at the amount the girls knew, they were so incredibly small, but it seemed like they knew the ins and outs of every inch of the grounds, their memories were astonishing. Being only two years older than my own little sister, I hadn't really had much experience with little kids since I'd been one myself. I couldn't always make out what Sarah, the younger one, was trying to tell me, but Jessica was an excellent interpreter. The girls had had birthdays since Caleb last saw them, it seemed - they were horrified when they realized how old I thought they were.
        "I'm five and a half!" Jessica nearly screamed, her pudgy face turning red. "Caleb's so stupid."
        "An' I'm tree!" Sarah bubbled happily, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. "Jessie, am I a half too?"
        "No, silly, your birthday was just last month, you're not a half yet."
        "Oh." She looked so adorably crestfallen that I scooped her up and set her into the seat of an idle tractor that was parked nearby. She laughed delightedly and immediately began making what I assumed were supposed to be tractor-engine noises, though I'd never heard one gurgle quite that much, it was more like a tractor falling into a pond.
        I'd already gotten the okay from the girls' parents to take pictures of them, and I took advantage of the sweet little models' enthusiasm. Most of the shots were just on my digital camera, they moved too quickly to really set up a good SLR shot, but I managed a few anyway. I had a hunch Sarah's short red curls would shine very prettily in the black and white shots, and I snuck in a few shots while the two were engrossed with the kittens.

        After lunch, the girls were herded upstairs for a nap, and Mrs. Hamlin thanked me again for keeping them busy for awhile. I told her honestly that it was no trouble at all, they were absolute darlings.
        "That's only because you weren't the one trying to put them down for a nap," she said with a grin.
        I wandered back outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun - I could hardly believe it was still the end of May, it was easily into the mid-70s outside. I'd heard hammering coming from the general direction of the woods on and off all morning, and now I noticed it starting up again. That was one way to find the boys' fort, I thought with a grin.
        Keeping a hand curled protectively around my SLR (the lens cap had a bad habit of falling off whenever I wasn't paying attention to it), I made my way through the rough brush at the edge of the woods again, deciding to follow the hammering sounds rather than the path I'd tried earlier that week. Couldn't do any worse than I did that day, anyway.