I’m sure my journalism textbooks said something about always getting photos of the road kill. Maybe.

Walkies were a little different this morning.
– 39 degrees outside
– Raining (No really. Again! And I’m not losing my shit over it at all!)
– No Lola, for she is lame
– No sun, for it has forsaken me
But we were that desperate to get outside and get moving, and along the way, we saw a penny farthing mailbox, a dead bird, a potato rock, cows of the forest, and a wet cemetery. It’s kind of like the 12 days of Christmas, but through the eyes of David Lynch.
IMG_3950

Tim: Why on earth do you need a picture of a dead bird? Me: I don’t think you understand how photojournalism works. Tim: Well, are you going to report the cause of death? Me: IT DIED OF RAIN!
Tim: Why on earth do you need a picture of a dead bird?
Me: I don’t think you understand how photojournalism works.
Tim: Well, are you going to report the cause of death?
Me: IT DIED OF RAIN!
I thought it was a potato, even though roadside potatoes don't make sense. So I picked it up.  Rock.
I thought it was a potato, even though roadside potatoes don’t make sense. So I picked it up.
Rock. Not good for potato salad at all.
I don't think the Brothers Grimm wrote any fairy tales about forest bulls. Did they?
I don’t think the Brothers Grimm wrote any fairy tales about forest bulls, but they should have, because this would make an excellent illustration.

IMG_3954 IMG_3956The gray and misty bay

Let a smirk be your umbrella.
Let a smirk be your umbrella.

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