16 April 2007
Some of you have asked...
About this year’s Easter photo.
It’s 3 days before Easter, mid-morning. I have no good ideas for our Easter e-greeting. I have a dozen free-range eggs from our local grocer, in the fridge, raw. The sun is shining pretty shadows through a sheer curtain in the hallway.
I run for the camera. I lay out (sorry for the pun) my fragile collection on the hard stone floor—not a quick process without compromising the integrity of the goods. Each egg is stamped with a red logo; turn logos out of sight. I count the eggs: one for each year we have been in England. The sunlight is hitting just the right egg. I sit on the floor. I move my shaggy-hair shadow out of the light and shoot. Sun has moved. An egg rolls out of place. I hastily rearrange. Careful. Should have boiled the eggs. I only have moments before the sun leaves the floor and climbs up the wall.
The feathers came from farmer Fred’s free-range chickens a mile down the road, on our daily walking route. From the one that didn’t get away. The fox had paid a visit to the chicken coop the night before to feed its pups. Happy Easter.