The Bradlands

Summer River


My alarm is my Fitbit One. Dangling above my face, on a lanyard looped over the oh sh*t bar in the back seat of my Xterra it vibrates. Disoriented, blurry eyed, Rita in my face with excited-for-the-morning sneezes, I swipe the damn thing and turn it off. Back to sleep.


Wake up to sunlight warming my shoulder. Time to get up.


Standing outside my truck, in my underwear, on my land, I can't help but smile in what can't be less than a perfect moment. Gentle breeze, 70 degrees, sun softened by a thin layer of clouds. I go for my camera.


We head down to the river with camera on tripod slung over my shoulder. Rita does fly bys on every plant we pass, trying to pull off a strand of glass, a leaf, anything she can chew on. Give that dog a pile of grass and she's happy as can be.

It's midsummer and the river is receding. Snow melt is still happening but nothing like in the spring. It still roars, but a baby roar.

A treat of the summer river is beach front property in the middle of Washington state. In flip flops I climb over river rocks and boulders. Rita doesn't yet have the hang of the scramble. She slowly skids down rocks with paws spread out as much as possible for ultimate friction while hesitant to make any leaps.

With the sunlight as it was, and my desire to procrastinate and not "work the land" just yet, we hung out down by river so I could take a bunch of terrible photos and a couple decent ones.

I love photography. It's all about detail. I have the most expensive top of the line camera I'll ever need, a few lenses, few filters, tripod with a decent head, and no idea what makes a good photo. I haven't taken enough photos lately to remember the rythm. I forget settings, process, and the simplest of things like turning off the image stabilization when on the tripod (it ends up creating blurry images: irony).

-bradrer on Jul 27, 2013