Last Shoot of the Year

Get the Light Close – edit completed

Tomorrow is my last shoot of the year and is a studio shoot with three lovely ladies.

I am hoping to push my photography more this coming year, I have been playing it safe and the images are a little similar.

I am already start to short list ideas and models for the first three months and I look forward if not producing great images at least learning more and getting my skill up to the next level.

Merry Christmas

Leica Summicron 35mm

Once again Christmas come round again. Its been a very light year on the photography front. A bit of street photography and some corporate shoots, as well as a few studio shoots including my farewell shoot with the delightful Mrs B.

We had quite a day experimenting with different glasses, looks and lighting. I think a glasses project may be a focus for 2019.

The Night Before Christmas

On the Biking Blog “Ride it like you stole it!” which is sadly no more by Dave Dragon, there was a poem “The Biker’s Night Before Christmas”.

Crossing the Ford

I have posted this before but as this is my last post before Christmas I thought it was worth posting again.

“Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad,

There was nada happenin’, now that’s pretty bad.

The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine,

In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.

With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer,

My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer.

When out in the yard there arose such a racket,

I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket.

I saw a large bro’ on a ’56 Pan

Wearin’ black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man).

He hauled up the bars on that bikeful of sacks,

And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks.

I couldn’t help gawking, the old guy had class.

But I had to go in — I was freezing my ass.

Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash,

And out of the stove he came dragging his stash.

With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot,

A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.

He patted her fanny and shook my right hand,

Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran.

From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder,

As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder.

With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night,

Shouting, “Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!”