Old Color Photos

These two photos started the same color influenced by the time of day of photo and era of processing.

The coloration of these original photos make it more complicated and require multiple adjusts of exposure, saturation, and temperature.

Factors of concern during the transition process: exposure and time of day/sun direction (see shadow that may/may not be left in photo); time of year and skin tone; clothing color; and sharpness of facial features as well as degree of sharpness of environment distance/depth. The time of year the photo was taken being winter, I chose to alter the sky tone and brought greater contrast bare ground to snow.

Since it is a family joke regarding how many pictures have been taken over the years, generation after generation, with the shadow image of the photographer also in the photo, I may leave the photographer's shadow as part of the photo. For family historical purposes (part of the story behind the picture theory), often the image of the photogragher can be identified.

Finding the balance between these factors impacts and reflects the quality of the restoration and much is personal preference.

To complete the restoration, note the film/paper aging showing up as spots on clothing. There are spots of color fading on the ground also but due to the coloration, exposure and saturation adjusts I made previously on this photo those seem to blend natural into the environment of ground and sky. But the clothing color fade/loss spots distract too much from the photo and decrease the appeal or value of the photo so those I would take the time to remove/color blend using a program such as Adobe Photoshop.


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Orchard Talk

Waiting for the book to be printed reminded me of days long gone wondering what the longest hour in any child's mind, 11 AM to some days long past 12 would bring.The mystery and the wait? Well, what was for lunch of course and also what the mailman would bring.

Not that I was interested in all of the letters.It was just that during the summer months that was one of my jobs; waiting on the mailman and bringing the letters to the house.At least from the time that I could pop open the mailbox front door.Not that I really loved having one more job in my day.No, it was just fun seeing if any had J-A-N-E printed on the flat side and the best days always I saw printed there, D-A-I-S-Y or J-A-M-E-S. With that, I was off on two feet running or wheels rolling to make my delivery run.

Waiting also gave me time, more than I knew what to do with.Don't think anyone ever outgrows the what to do with time question.

Waiting on the arrival of Dear Daisy, story after story replayed in my mind.Had I put this one in? Or did I remember that storyline for the book?

There in the orchard...

Daisy could relate to my stories told and untold.She shared in my discoveries of the day, and dreamed dreams of the future as we envisioned it should be, right along side me.Together we could expand one thought so it took up time and space, so it would grow in its own time, sit resting doing nothing and create love, break down complex life questions to the simplest of answers, solve this World’s problems of war and violence by speaking one more time for peace, could paint a picture of God’s Heaven in living color, and still have time for a sandwich.

Oh, how simple the solutions we’d find to the World’s ills.Daisy would say it all in one word, “Love”. I’d always ask the “how comes” and “whys” and the “what ifs” I guess mostly because I couldn’t understand if the answer was so simple, why peoples had such a hard time getting it right.Her answer always came back down to doing the same thing, “The answer be to loves Yo’brothers an’ loves Yo’sisters much youse loves Yo’ ownself”.Daisy knew the Golden Rule. She lived it.

The “what is” moments explored our immediate World, the trees and fruits, the birds and nests, flowers of the fields, bugs that we’d swish and swat.Skeeters always had the question attached, “Did yuh gits ‘em?”

“What does” replaced “what is” when I needed a word or action explained.Either of these came up if she was eating something unfamiliar to me, and if I was hungry.

“Whys” always came somewhere in the middle.I’d ask what I dared know the answer to and wouldn’t ask if I sensed it was a private.Always I was good ‘bout respecting what she made no motion tuh answer, like it wasn’t my concern.“Whys” were built to explain everything in life, but mostly came up in regard to other’s actions or some perceived roadblock on my path.“Whys” and “What yuh thinks ‘bout” always made time longer than real.“Why” became “Why yuh think” if I had a real pondering question ‘bout a big life challenge that probably only God would know the answer to but I thought I’d check with Daisy just in case.

The “what ifs” always held dreams.They were the opening words that would lead us down any path of our choosing and would certainly build us a better World.Perhaps answering the “What ifs” took up more time than any other question that I could think up.They were the mystical or had the power to change the air we breathe.The “What ifs” could change where you lived, who you were, what you were doing in the moment, and where you could travel.They changed for the moment God’s Plan or the World’s Plan and the paths we found ourselves on if only for a moment of pretend.We always came back to reality, to home, to our place assigned.We always came home to find that we had never really left.The cherries were still hanging on the limb we left them hanging on not more than five minutes earlier.