Every afternoon, I go on what I call Leica Patrol. I take my Leica Monochrome and drive around the hills and valleys of my beautiful county. I usually spot one or two things I want to photograph today; I got lucky and found three.
This is how I practice and learn.
The cold was unbearable, but I didn’t feel it when taking a picture. I do feel it afterward. My four frostbitten fingers protest in the cold. They were squashing this afternoon.
The first, above, is the railroad tracks that run right through Salem, a town north of us. Railroad tracks heading out beyond the horizon are an iconic American image. We are always going somewhere; at least, that is our history.
These tracks felt lonely to me but beautiful in the sun.
The black and white dairy cows struck me as a Leica natural. I stood in the road and focused on this dairy barn.
After a while, I heard a loud and angry voice cursing at me and telling me to get lost. As I was standing on a public road and had every right to photograph what I wanted and was in full view, I ignored her – her tone was obnoxious and deserved ignoring – and took my time and left when I was ready. She was rude and nasty.
I would love to have gotten closer, but I wouldn’t go on her land without permission.
When I started taking photos, farmers sometimes showed up with a rifle. They thought I was a tax assessor or animal rights troublemaker. When I told them who I was and what I was doing, none of them ever turned me away.
Many farmers assume everyone with a camera is an animal rights activist and try to scare them off. I can’t say I blame them, but I’m not one of them.
Many of the farmers around here know me by now; they often ask me for copies of the photos I take. They usually wave as they go by in their tractors.
I usually never take a photo if I’m asked not to; I would have gone if this woman had asked nicely. I can hardly recall being asked not to. I loved the row of dairy cows, and I loved the cold mist that shrouded the barn.
On the road back to my house – my fingers and toes were frozen by now; I saw a calf standing alone on a windswept hill – the other cows were far away. Cows love to be photographed; they always come as close as they can get to my camera; they are curious and friendly.
I couldn’t get close to this one – she was a quarter of a mile away – but I liked the photo. It touched me and captured the feel of the day.
Next week, I return to the Mansion and Bishop Maginn High School, I will try and do my Leica patrol as often as possible, but it will be a litter harder to find the time.
I love my Leica patrols; I hope I always find a way to go out on them.