Red Bat Photography
Folksonomy > wide-angle lens
October 14th, 2011

The Red Bats were thrilled when the City of Santa Cruz contacted us to do a portrait of sorts. Not a portrait of a person, but a portrait of the city: they requested a variety of images of Santa Cruz to be used on their website and elsewhere on the internet. We pulled lots of favorite shots out of our archives, and went out shooting again to get more. This project was especially rewarding for me because I was able to use my earliest photos of Santa Cruz, images that will always remind me of the beginning of my relationship with this magical place. I’m looking forward to seeing what the City does with the several hundred photos we gave them. Here are just a few of those shots.

October 8th, 2011

This post is Part 3 of a 3-part series. Read Part 1Read Part 2 – Read Part 3

Since these photos are of events taking place at a winery, I felt it was important to give you some love poetry about wine. I’d forgotten about this poem until I ran across it today. It was written by the amazing Billy Collins for his wife.

Please note the appearance in this post of yet another stellar bouquet toss photo by Patrick. How does he do it?

LITANY

Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.