Perfectly Ordinary Day

Posted in clicking 365 project

Perfectly Ordinary Day

“I like imperfection. It doesn't mean ugly. I love a girl with a gap between her teeth, versus perfect white veneers. Perfection is just... boring. Perfect is what's natural or real; that is beauty.” Marc Jacobs

Today was to be a bird day.  I was woken by a confusion of guinea fowl, which reminded me of a poem written in their honour.

The Sixth Day Bird

The Creator, creating the beasts of the field,
In a moment of whimsy could not help but yield
To an urge, and what could be fitter?

"I'll make Me one final whimsical critter!"
He began with the torso, spheroidal, prolate,
With legs short and stubby and toes six or eight.
The head wears a helmet with a strawberry top
And down-dangling wattles either straight or alop.
Most birds are melodious, with a tune for each
He endowed this one with a god-awful screech.
They seldom walk--'tis a run or a trot,
Snatching bugs left and right, one for each polka-dot.

Their mentality makes them insatiably curious.
They greet things strange with clamour furious
He made 'em gregarious to run in a flock
Then, wearily spent, He looked at his clock.
The Sixth Day ebbed into night when He
Grinned as he rested and called it a GUINEA!

I tried in vain to photograph them; they scratched and screeched but were too quick for me. I saw the neighbour's cat giving them a once over but even he was too slow.

I did get a shot of my favourite garden bird the Cape Robin Chat and a  Crested Barbet chick, note the red spot on his forehead.

I shot straight into the setting sun to photograph  a small tree, the drops of water falling all around made the light really interesting.

Leaves make interesting patterns and the textures, shapes and shades make monochrome magic.  The Delicious Monsters are sheltered in a shady spot under a tree but raindrops leave a dusy mark, all the imperfection can’t be removed try as I might.

It was while I had my 100mm -400mm at 5.6f that I took the picture of the flowering Orchid, all wrong but perfect in it’s imperfection.

Ouma Bets’ typewriter is a reminder that we don’t write letters anymore and it’s become something of a relic, but I still see her fingerprints, smudges and tea spills, too precious to remove.  Why the one red key I wonder?  Was it decorative or filling a gap?

Today was a celebration of things imperfect.

“To accomplish the perfect perfection, a little imperfection helps.” ― Dejan Stojanovic

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