This is a post from my “Just Three” Challenge, a 28-day photography project to capture a series of three-photo-story sequences — to tell a brief narrative using just three pictures taken that day. Each day from February 22nd through March 21st I’ll be posting a three-panel photo collection that makes use of one of the six styles of story-telling transition.
When you’re six, a long cold winter is especially hard. First, when it’s too cold to play outside, it’s tough to find time to play with your friends and you end up rarely seeing them. Second, when it’s too cold to play outside, you can’t build snow creatures.
With the temperatures climbing up above freezing this weekend — for the first time in months — that situation was remedied and multiples of kids converged on our backyard to build…
Day 16: Snow Critters
Camera: GoPro Hero 3
Subject: Playing in the back yard.
Post-Processing: None, just resized for the web.
Story: Kids. Imagination. A backyard full of snow. A nasty case of cabin fever. And finally some good weather to mix it all together.
Technique: I had actually set up my GoPro in the snow (perched on my GorillaPod) with the aim of making a stop-motion video. I set the camera to snap one frame every two seconds, resulting in a little over nine hundred photos captured of this little scene. I grabbed three for my story-telling challenge.
Evaluation: Without a viewfinder (and yeah, I can use my phone) it’s tough to get the perfect angle, particularly for a stop-motion vid. You set it up and… then you cross your fingers. Given that, the composition wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t too bad either.
This is a post from my “Daddy Daze” series, an anecdotal exploration of my odd little adventures in parenting in bite-sized chunks (for your reading enjoyment) and because the last thing this world needs is yet another doting parent blog.
Epic Spring Snowman
It has been a poor couple of years for building snowmen. Everyone seems to think that the moment that snow falls on the ground that — BAM — you build the traditional three-ball-stack with a carrot for a nose. Not true. It can snow, and that snow can unequivocably suck for the pack required to roll even a baseball-sized wad of the white stuff let alone the stickiness required for a three-foot ball of fun. The last couple of winters have provided us with lots of snow, but little snow that was up-to-the-task of the fine art of snowman construction. Claire has been routinely heartbroken because of this, because how do you explain to a three- or four-year-old the physics and chemistry of snow that won’t stick? All she knew is that her lazy old dad couldn’t be bothered to put on his gloves and build her a snowman, and didn’t care that the flakey, icy powder in our backyard did not a construction kit make.
Our luck turned this past weekened, and being in Red Deer for a family-ish event we found ourselves in a wide open, freshly-blanketted, un-trampled snowy park with three energetic kids and lots of free time. The Epic Six-foot Snowman that resulted from this effort surprised even me. The kids absolutely loved it. And Claire finally got her snowman experience.
Thirty Minutes After Eating
For a while Claire was back doing the ‘not eating her dinner’ thing again. I start to think of these things like they are just another one those mythic “phases” of childhood, as in… “it’s just a phase.” But then I remember that the whole phase-ideology is probably just bunk and kids are just as prone to bad-habit-forming as anyone else.
We opted to boot her out of this habit by trying out a new meal-time strategy. It has two parts: First, she dishes her food herself, presumably taking what she wants (and a little of what we tell her) hinting at a level of independence that also leads into a kid-like notion of responsibility for what she takes. So far, so good. Second, she has been instructed (and seems to have absorbed) that the quicker she eats — the less dawdling she does — the more time exists between supper and her bedtime, time for something fun… like going swimming with her dad. She scarfed three (kid-sized) helpings of spaghetti last night and informed me that — as she had eaten so quickly — we could now go to the pool.
Before I had finished my single (grown-up-sized) helping, she was upstairs, changed, and ready with a towel and her goggles in a bag.
The pool was absolutely nuts, of course. What else would one expect for the Sunday evening leading into local spring break? But an hour of swimming with her dad seems to have brought home one good reason for her to cooperate better at mealtime… or so she told me every five minutes between eating and long after she should have been in bed asleep.