More surprises on the memory card

More surprises awaited me on the camera card today. Those who follow this blog know that my husband has a little time on his hands, having lost his job due to health issues. He’s legally disabled from a second brain tumor surgery last October and the subsequent memory loss that accompanied it. To talk to him, you wouldn’t know it until he began searching for that word he just can’t put his finger on. I do that all the time too, because we all know that it’s the nouns that go first when we age. (You know what I mean.)

My husband keeps busy during the day doing things around the house and his garden and caring for George.

Now I don’t want this whole post to be all about my husband. He would be annoyed if I did that. Those who know him in real life know that he likes to keep in the background. He’s quiet and soft spoken and it’s probably a big reason why he was so good with horses. So let’s get to the point, shall we?

My husband has been getting into photography lately. Some days I will come home, use the camera a little, and then when I go to download my photos into my hard drive, I notice his in there as well.

And today was such a day. Only today, I found many photos of George in several different poses. Please indulge me as I post photogenic pictures of the pooch in our lives.

In show-dog stance. What a natural.

George looking like an angel.

George posing with some wood. Hmm . . . somehow that doesn’t sound quite right.

His George Washington look. Don’t ask me where that came from. There’s no explaining my thinking sometimes. I can see this face on a dollar bill, though. Can’t you?

And then there were the birds.

I added a texture from SheIsPrettyStock textures to this little chicadee shot. He/s got something edible in his mouth, I see.

A brown thrasher.

And that little elusive bluebird.

A pretty productive day, I should say. And guess what? The stitches have finally come out of my finger. This is good.

Extra points to those who know what wood was most likely used for those fenceposts.

Until tomorrow, my friends . . .