Heavy rains made the water high and fast. The pictures don’t show how fast it really was. I used a camera setting I’ve never tried before, “parrot”.
I’m trying some new stuff. I don’t know much about adjusting camera settings to available light and using the bells and whistles because I’ve been ill for 25 years. That makes it hard for me to learn new things. The tiny movements that adjust digital cameras on the go are hard for my fine motor impaired fingers. I know my photos have technical flaws. But I have explored using this new (to me) camera setting and hope to investigate more, for fun.
The camera I use has a “parrot” setting that increases color saturation. I’m not sure I like it as what I really want to learn is how to make pictures look more natural, but with deeper hues. I want dark pictures that nevertheless have rich color, and bright pictures with perfect shadow and light balance. Overall I think the focus isn’t as sharp in these “parrot” pictures, although some of that is because these are low res copies. These were taken in afternoon sun.
(This was taken the old way, then photo edited as usual.)
“The water looks delicious. Why wasn’t I invited?” so says Ultraviolet the cat.
I dared further photo edit one; wee woo hoo, weird!.
“Well you’d be in trouble if you fell in.”
“I’ve never fallen into those artesian ponds you made for me.”
(Slightly increased color saturation above.)
“That water was moving fast. And the creek looks small on the screen but it’s way bigger than your water bowls.”
(Taken with “parrot”, then photo edited. A partially shaded window to our left accounts for the light reflected from her eye. The light is natural, I never use flash with kitties.)
“Ain’t nothing in nature faster than me. I like moving slurps. Very clean.”
The camera always changes the colors and records reflections that aren’t immediately obvious to the eye. When we walk up to the edge the flood water looks brownish gray. Usually the camera catches the blues of the sky, greens of vegetation, and any autumn colors bouncing back from the water. So the appearance of the lavender purple color is a surprise. I think I’ve figured it out, though. Moving water is overflowing the banks and churning the creekbed. So there’s a reddish silt load along for the ride. It’s mixing with the blue reflections from the sky, creating purple. We don’t see it, the camera lens does.
You can see from the banks in this picture that our earth is reddish.
“That would be a great place to walk and sniff and drink at night. I smell the night air coming in around the door and it’s intoxicating. Let’s all go down there tonight.”
“Sweetie we don’t walk to the creek anymore at night, it’s too dark. We did when we were younger though.”
“Not that dark for me! I know y’all are night blind but I can see into night just fine. I’ll lead us down there. I’ve smelled everything out there, I’ll protect us.”
“You had streetlights in town, this is country night. And how would you know about intoxication?”
“I had myself some good hidey holes in town. I watched those humans kittens at night, saw them when they were studious and watchful like I am, and other times when they frisked around. I learned to intuit their levels of intoxication.”
“Ah, direct observation of student night life.”
That red leaf on the opposite bank in the first picture is in about the same position as the one I photographed there last autumn. I almost thought it was the same leaf that never faded out, but looking carefully I do think the position is a little different. That doesn’t preclude the fact that it could have been washed there by sloshing waves of rapids water, but it may also be another red leaf from the same tree or undergrowth.
Ultraviolet makes more sounds now! She’s calling to me in short, breathy musical notes, like soft cat trills. My husband calls them “grunts”. She gets in a “Hmmmmffff,” then settles in and purrs with me. She watches the screen while I sort pictures of her for this post.
I may be slow to answer comments as I’m rather low energy these days. Hoping for better, always.