No, I’m not referring to the dreadful forest fires burning through the Maritimes.
Yesterday, my friend and I took a lovely drive up to Cambridge Narrows on the Washademoak Lake in New Brunswick. The community was celebrating its annual “Life at the Lakes” summer festival for the weekend. Within a several kilometer radius (and armed with an event map) you could go from location to location and meet artisans demonstrating and selling their crafts and artwork. The settings at various farms around the lake were beautiful, with the water creating the perfect backdrop to the sunny day. In the main area community park there was a large display of antique and unique vehicles, lovingly restored and shined to perfection. There was also a bandstand with live entertainment and a food truck deluged with hungry and thirsty visitors. Parking everywhere was at a premium as hundreds of visitors perused the many offerings and marvelled at the talented artisans from our own small area.
As we traveled from site to site, my trusty camera was at hand and I was having a wonderful time speaking with the artists and craftspeople and capturing images of their works – both in progress and finished and ready for sale. I couldn’t wait to get home and check out the resulting images.
Then, disaster struck. NOT ONE image had been recorded. I performed all of the known (to me) steps for image recovery but there were none to recover. I still have no idea what happened. So…
This morning the same friend and I headed out to the Cornhill Nursery’s annual “Artists in the Garden” event (are you sensing a theme here?).Before leaving I made sure I had fresh memory cards in my camera, a well charged battery, and that everything would work as it should.
First, I took a test shot of Lucy, our cat.
Then, outside, I tried to catch a few shots of our poodle, Harley. I think he’s tired of being my model. As you can see, he refused to pose for me.
At least I knew my camera and cards were working together, so off we went.
It was a lovely drive through picturesque farming country to Cornhill. Once there, we explored the display tents and met the artists showing and selling their wares.
One person created unique wooden bowls out of burled wood – smooth and each one different from the next.
Then there was the potter who had very different pieces created from her imagination, not all destined to be perfect but instead, to be different.
The fanciful works of a metal artist caught Alison’s eye and I was attracted to the textures of the rough granite sinks.
Once we’d visited each of the booths, we headed to the café, sat outside under the grapevine covered pergola, and indulged ourselves with a lovely lunch capped off with a piece of decadent carrot cake for each of us.
When I got home, the first thing I did was to verify that my photos had, indeed, been recorded and turned out. Unlike yesterday’s ashes, today I can breathe a sigh of relief.
Capturing Cherished Memories 