Showing posts with label camera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camera. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 20, 2026

“Picture Perfect"

 






New camera in hand, I scouted our neighborhood a couple of weeks ago in search of perfection. Unexpected rain left the ground soaked, but mud caking my favorite tennis shoes didn’t deter me from finding just the right prickly pear cactus for a photo-op. I love the surprises on what my lens captures hidden under petals.






Another day, another location found me dripping sweat in sauna heat as I snapped more shots of sun drenched cacti thriving and surviving, and providing nutrients to insects crawling along the flower’s edges and dipping into its depths.

Nature’s perfection captured with my camera.




Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman   



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Thursday, May 29, 2025

“After the Rain”

 

            As our area hits another spring of drought, I joyfully celebrate every time rain falls. Sometimes, with camera in hand, I document the clouds rolling in and record a deluge as it descends upon the house. Other times, my lens focuses on what happens after the rain when leaves bud, flowers bloom, and grasses grow overnight.


           

Our downpour the other night reminded me of other sudden storms and begged me to dive back into my photographs from previous springs and summers. Take a walk today and enjoy the world after the rain.

 


















Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Wednesday, March 5, 2025

"Butterflies and Hummingbirds"

 



 

 


Camera

weighing heavily in hand

 longing for the perfect shot

yearning to capture a butterfly

floating delicately on a flower

holding breath to capture the hummingbird’s faerie flight

balancing luck and patience

focusing life’s lens  








Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


 

 

 


Wednesday, February 1, 2023

“Preserving a Moment”




            With winter coat thrown over my pajamas, I trekked outside this morning. Camera slung around my neck a murky morning light guided my steps. Hobbling with stiff knee and fingers nearly frozen, I circled both yards. The drip of melting ice tapped my head as I moved under branches. Urgent to document this morning’s coating before it fades away.

 

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman