. . .I had a long dream about Hercules, my box turtle, last night. I was worried that he wouldn't be warm enough under his compost pile of old leaves and I picked up more leaves from another pile - and he was underneath, wide awake and looking back up at me. I picked him up and he was too skinny, I actually felt his ribs (you cannot feel a turtle's ribs, of course, because they have evolved into their shell). I worry about Hercules every winter; worry that he isn't fat enough to go months without eating; worry that it isn't cold enough for a true hibernation where the metabolism slows, and that he will slowly starve to death.
The bike brakes are fixed and the clouds appear to be breaking up outside - it's time to get back on the horse that threw me. (Small raccoon-eye photo added to yesterday's post below.)
. . .we finally got out with the sun shining and rode to a bank office across the street from the Opera, and then back to the camera store on another errand, finally stopping for this photo from Ile St. Louis across the Seine, looking at the Hotel de Ville. The brakes worked fine. Good ride.
Not to complain or anything, but just how much beauty can you be expected to appreciate while dodging Paris traffic and errant pedestrians, bumping over cobblestones just ahead of a bus, etc., etc.? As it turns out, quite a lot - but you can't also be expected to bag the perfect photograph, can you? I take some of these just to have material to work on while learning more technical stuff, which shouldn't show in the final image - take my word for it: they are improved.