Smile for the Camera

The light was just right yesterday morning and I got to wondering how the children's garden at a nearby community center was looking, after a summerful of camper hands in the soil. I grabbed my camera and off I went, slightly disappointed by what I found. The garden was already overgrown, the crops that were left indicated the summer efforts had not been all that ambitious, and frankly, except for a few supersized cucumbers and a very pretty orange squash, I didn't find anything to photograph.

And then. . .

I just stood there.

"It's here, Pattie," I told myself. "The photo is here. Just wait. Let it reveal itself."

Like an idea that just clicks or a mountain that suddenly appears, seemingly out of nowhere around the bend of a highway, I saw them. The dragonflies. There were dozens of them, in a variety of colors, flittering among the vines and leaves of the compost pile and landing, seemingly for a break, on the weathered wood on the side of a shed. The brown and gray ones were least likely to sit still while I photographed. The green ones were too camouflaged by the leaves. But the blue ones would sit and sit and sit as I shot and shot and shot. It wasn't until I got home and looked at my photos on the large screen that I fully appreciated their cooperation. They were smiling for me.

According to an article published just a week ago in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, there are 119 dragonfly species and 52 damselfly species (damselfly! I've never heard of that. Sounds like a book title) documented in Georgia. Speaking of book titles, check out the new book, Dragonflies & Damselflies of Georgia and the Southeast, by Marietta naturalist Giff Beaton. This field guide is full of Georgia-specific photos, descriptions, range maps and more.



As for me, I'm reminded once again to slow down, and notice. I am curious, at the start of another week, what wonders await me.

Smile for the Camera