Testing my new, Christmas present 50mm lens from Vince. Be very careful about what you say around the Frenchman. If you admire the shirt he is wearing he is liable to take it off and give it to you (it would smell perfectly nice, too). So when I oohed at the photos he had taken with this little lens, the lens suddenly was mine. And I like it.
This was a small lunch for three under the tree. On Monday it will be a lunch for fourteen, and I'm still figuring out what to feed everyone. We are flooded with good fruit: white nectarines, bing cherries, perfect blackberries, perfumed grenadillas (passion fruit). The house is piled high with Cape lemons and the garden is full of herbs. But I am searching for real tomatoes.
My father, coaxed to pose with a bottle of local bubbly - Pierre Jourdin brut rose. The man is in his 80th year. Actually, he's never been camera shy. That would be my mother and me.
The hand holding the neck of the bottle barely shows the only injury he sustained in a bad car wreck a few weeks ago. The car he and a colleague were traveling in, colleague driving, was totaled. My father walked away with an injured finger, nothing more. My aunt and uncle were in a serious smash more recently, rear ended. And of course they lost their grand daughter Jessica, my cousin, two years ago this Sunday, New Year, to a car accident. We all fear flying but it's our driving that claims the most lives.
So, drink bubbly, take pictures, drive safely. Not in that order.