mud pies to medicine: Moving Cars

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Moving Cars

I have A LOT of photos that were taken from moving cars. They usually come out awful or with the blur of bug splat on the windshield obscuring a nice photo. As this resolution is about getting better at editing this photo isn't the most spectacular one I've ever taken. It is just okay. And when it came out of the camera, it wasn't even noteworthy. I liked the clouds on my way out to Michigan but nothing else about the picture really worked. So today, I used content aware to make it work. So, like I said, this is nothing spectacular but it is really about the before and after.

Cross my heart that is the same photo. Content Aware on Photoshop CS5 allows you to just circle things and eliminate them. Some techy genius made photo editing so much easier. So, although it isn't a spectacular shot, it fulfills my New Year's Resolution requirements. So photo #22 Take Me Home, Country Roads. Like I said, this was taken from the moving car on our way out to Michigan. Whenever B and I get in the car for along road trip I put on some John Denver and belt it, off key. It's lovely. Really.

No comments:

Post a Comment

The inspiration you ask?

I miss making mud pies. There is this huge rock in my front yard. To call it a rock really does it a dishonor. It is a boulder, brought home by my father on a huge dump truck after he blasted it out of a work site. My mom one day told me that even though it is nearly 2.5 feet high, 6 feet long, and 2.5 feet wide, that it was, in fact, only half-showing. The scientist inside of me was disbelieving and set out to get some proof. Clad in a dress, bow in my hair, and my best accessory, a shovel, I trudged outside ready to prove my mother wrong. That is when the digging began. I dug, and dug, and dug, and nearly all 3.5 feet of Danielle fit in that hole when I had reached the bottom of the rock. That became my digging spot, my mud pie kitchen. Each day it was dug, and each evening it was filled back in. Sometimes the holes were small, sometimes they were enormous, and most days the hole was turned into my mud mixing bowl with that rock as my counter. The novelty never wore off. The ebb and flow of my childhood was, in many ways, measured by the ever-changing depth of that hole in the front yard, the hole that never really disappeared even each day after it was filled in. Even though the grass has grown back in that spot, there still remains, an indentation, the scars of a childhood well lived and the disbelieving scientists I have always been.

So, you ask me why I want to be a doctor? I do not want to be a doctor. I want to open a mud pie bakery with the cash register on that rock in my front yard. But, somehow, I doubt I would stay in business long, for the world seems to have lost its taste for mud pies. I guess being a doctor will have to do.