Write about: breaking the ice.
I managed to get out of the house fairly early this morning, which allowed me to get to Vaseux Lake just as the sun was peeking over the surrounding hills. It's an area I've wanted to spend some time photographing ever since... probably before we even moved here, actually. I remember driving past it when Kat brought me for a visit while we were still living in Vancouver.
I've had difficulty finding the time to get there, but now that we're so much closer (and I have one morning a week dedicated to going out to take pictures) it became much more doable.
I took lots of pictures this morning. I'll probably make an album on Facebook at some point, so I'll try to remember to share the link here. But for now I'll just post one of my favorite shots of the morning:
The prompt, by the way, was inspired by not knowing precisely where the shore ended and the ice-covered water began. I played it safe, obviously.
Mine:
The barrier is so thick I can barely see through it. Two feet, maybe three? It's hard to say. But there is one thing I know without doubt nipping at my heels: I can still see enough to know that the effort will be worthwhile.
I take a deep breath, ready my tools. A quick mental inventory reassures the butterflies in my stomach that I am fully prepared for the task at hand. One last shot of liquid courage. Not that I need it. For good luck?
Nah, don't need that either.
Here we go. I move through the crowd like a shark through water. People don't notice me unless I want them to notice me. Usually to get them to step the hell out of my way. I make it to the bar, order an overpriced martini, and turn to the redhead in the tight navy blue dress to my left, placing my right elbow on the bar as I do so.
"And what, my radiant sunset, shall I get for you?"
