Unless the world ends, I die, an emergency befalls one or more of The Kids, or some other cataclysm takes place before then, I will be out of town next Sunday on a jaunt to the family farm.  This normally is an affair that lasts all day because it’s a long haul out there and back (about three hours each way), and I loiter about while I’m there without one single consideration for the time.  Needless to say, I leave Dallas by seven in the morning and inevitably don’t get back until midnight or later—sometimes much, much, much later.

I plan to schedule posts for that day so you’re not left wanting.  I know how needy you are, poppets, and I don’t blame you.  I’m full of all sorts of magic that’s impossible to resist.  Even an immovable object would get off its duff for a chance to visit with me.

But what I’ll try to do better at has nothing whatsoever to do with providing site content for that particular day.

What I’m referring to is what I fail at miserably every single time I go out there: taking photographs.

Sure, I haul my camera bag with me each and every time I go.  I fastidiously charge all the batteries and make sure the memory cards are empty.  I do everything right in preparation for snapping some pictures.

Then what happens when I get there, or on the way, or even on the way back?

Nada.  Zilch.  The. Big. Fat. Nothing.

I set my photography paraphernalia down on the dining table upon arrival and there it sits until I pick it up to carry it back home.  Rarely does it get opened.

Why?  I haven’t a clue.  I just don’t think about it most of the time.  Occasionally I grab the camera and start snapping shots, but mostly I think I take it for the exercise of dragging it to and fro.  I usually feel rather daft afterward for having missed the chance to capture something of the trip.

You see, the family farm is in East Texas, quite near the Big Cypress Bayou, Lake O’ the Pines, and all that other wonderful stuff, smack dab in the middle of second-growth woodlands nestled in amongst hills and valleys and all manner of natural beauty and wonder—and all I usually come home with is a full belly, a tired body, a happy heart, and not a damn thing else to show for it.  Well, except for tons of dead bugs on the front of the car if it’s warm enough.

So I’m gonna try to do better this time.

I plan to leave the metroplex a bit earlier than usual in case something along the way grabs my attention.  I can stop, snap some photos, and be along my merry way without negatively impacting the day’s schedule.

I’m going to keep my camera, spare batteries, and even the spare memory cards with me throughout the journey and visit.  If I remember, I mean, which I’ll desperately try to do.

I’d even like to take a walk while I’m there, roam a bit through the thick woodlands and along the bayous and creeks, perhaps photograph some of the magnificence that rests upon the earth like a blanket.  I spend a lot of time looking at it while I’m there.  Maybe—just maybe—I’ll remember to grab a bit on digital media so I can share it with you.

I’ll even take pictures of the various animals that live on the farm.  While going through this photo conversion project, I realized I’ve not even done that much…not even shown you more than a glance at some of the livestock.

The point is this: There’s lots to see out there.  Not just on the farm, I mean, but in the general area.

So I’ll try to do better this time.  Hopefully upon my return I’ll have a nice collection of images to share with you.  And a whole lot more to keep all for me.