2022 July 01
Fireworks are the traditional way to celebrate Canada Day. This year, my fireworks were inside my body. Instead of pyrotechnics, they were exploding cells filled with coronaviral hijackers. In time my sickness receded, but the process took quite a while! I missed seeing my friend off as he returned to Ottawa (thankfully, virus free!) and I missed almost a whole week of work. After that I worked remotely, staying cocooned in my apartment until I was confident that I was not going to be a risk to those around me. During the intense sickness and the post-Covid malaise, I was not much up to photography. Thus, for the purposes of SnapDash, we skip along to the back half of July.
2022 July 15
The world certainly did not stop just because I was convalescing. When I finally returned to the Public Gardens I found whole new beds of various flowers. I have long been fascinated by how ephemeral plants can be; they burst forth and vanish so quickly! So too do just about every other lifeform, from viruses to people.
2022 July 16
After being stuck inside for a while, it sure is nice to get out into the sunshine! These are my sunglasses.
2022 July 17
A fitting sequel to my previous photo, these are my "regular" spectacles. They are a new pair. The shape is largely similar to what I had previously, though these are half-frames compared to their full-framed antecedents. These are not as wide as my last set, which is a notable improvement. The biggest change, though, is that these are blue across the front. My hope is that the colour will complement the blue of my eyes.
2022 July 18
No, this is not a rocket ship! It is the upper portion of my lancing device, the atlatl which propels lancets into my fingers to draw drops for blood glucose tests. The numbers indicate how deep into the skin the lancets are set to go. I keep mine to a tidy 1mm.
2022 July 19
Being sick with Covid was 95% awful and 5% Skyrim. This is a detailed look at the unit which converts a pair of Nintendo Switch paddles into a two-hand controller.
2022 July 20
On another wander through the Public Gardens I was struck by these lilies catching a low beam of evening light. Compare the illuminated ones in the centre of the photo with the shaded flower in the upper right. I find it fascinating how the light reveals the structure of the flowers within the sheath of petals.
2022 July 21
This was a sad, if expected, day. The migrating monarch butterfly has officially been inscribed on the list of endangered species. As the years pass, sights like this may become less and less frequent, until they stop happening altogether.
2022 July 22
This is the strap of a bag. I don't have particularly much to add beyond that.
2022 July 23
Heat rejection is one of the greatest challenges facing spacecraft. It's also one of the greatest challenges facing my apartment. To escape the sweltering space, I sometimes relax on my building's rooftop patio. From there, I snapped this shot of starlings (and a seagull) on a neighbouring building.
2022 July 24
For the second day in a row, I photographed a seagull from my rooftop. This one was closer, and I was able to zoom in. The angle of the sunlight was not great, but it's still a decent photo.
2022 July 25
Photography as a vehicle for metaphor can be a clunky ride. I hope you appreciate this attempt. The ephemeral orange tornado here is a butterfly, fluttering too quickly for my shutter. I interpret it as a commentary on how this species, and so many others, may be vanishing before our eyes.
2022 July 27
I'm skipping ahead by one day to present this photo next. It's a colleague of mine, taken on a site visit. Upon seeing it, another coworker promptly said, "Carl, the man, the myth, the legend!"
2022 July 26 and 2022 July 28
Here are two similar photos, showing holds at East Peak Indoor Climbing. I go to EPIC quite often, but don't take a ton of pictures there. When I do, they tend to be shaky shots from my phone camera, commemorating routes that I've just climbed. I figured it was high time I did some detailed work showing off the holds. The green one has a very tiny ledge, just enough for fingertips to crimp or the edge of a foot to stand. It's definitely not a hold where one would want to linger. The big red one, however, provides lots of surface area. In climbing parlance, a hold like that where a handful of fingers can fit is called a jug. As the chalk reveals, the little red handhold in the background to the right is perhaps best used as a pinch.
2022 July 30
I finished off the month in Antigonish County. I apparently forgot to take any photos on the 29th, the day I travelled to the 'Nish after work. On the 30th my parents and I had a picnic. As we were leaving, we spied this squirrel.
2022 July 31
This shot comes from a walk to the bridge near my parents' house. As is generally the case, the river is quite low at this time of year. Still, the breeze skipping along the water is certainly refreshing.
Below is a video from East Peak. I took it on July 28th, not long before getting the photograph of the red holds. In the video I am climbing a set of purple holds, in a lane that also has the route of green holds I'd photographed on the 26th. I don't imagine me climbing is much in the way of entertainment for anyone else, but I find it useful to review my efforts. It helps to reconcile my imagined confident climbing with the reality of me being a bit shifty-legged and technically dull. With any luck, being able to watch myself will help me focus on the areas where I ought to improve.