Monday, August 24, 2020


O r i g i n a l    D i g i t a l   A r t
Emilio Vergara


Friday, May 25, 2018

This image, except for minor cropping and sharpening, is just as it appeared in the field.  Taken from a kayak with a long lens, the narrow focus on just the butterfly and flower in an otherwise busy, fresh-water marsh scene with lots of other movement and detail, makes the scene seem a bit surreal.  The yellowish light is partially due to the early morning sun and my experimenting with settings on the camera.  Painters mix and modify pigments to get certain effects in their renderings of a scene.  So can, and do, photographers. I like it because the light is so directionally on target and the subject so beautifully isolated.  It speaks so well of the way nature has many worlds within endless worlds, like a lone solar system with humans among a billion galaxies.
Chassahowitzka River Florida
2010-07-07 (19)

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Aunt Maggie's House
Aunt Maggie was everybody’s aunt, and no one's. Everyone knew her, but not many knew much about her except that she had lived alone in that old house on the corner for decades. As years passed, she was seen at the grocery less and less and her old porch rocker only moved when wind off the bay came in strong enough to move it.
One day an old man with a cane and worn shoes came to knock at her door. He seemed to have a gimpy leg that made him hunch forwar...d over his cane with every step. When no one came, he raised his hand over his brow and leaned into the screen door to see if he could see anything.
“Margaret, are you there?”
There was no answer, but a slip of paper inside the screen taped to the door knob caught his eye.
The note was dated six weeks before and said,
“I have sung and I have danced,
I have loved and I have laughed,
I have been as happy as any might wish to be.
But the days have grown long,
the light has lost its warmth,
and the flowers are dying,
There is no reason to stay."
The old man took a long deep breath and, slowly exhaling, whispered her name once more. He stuffed the note in his pocket and limped away.

Aunt Maggie's House
Apalachicola Florida
2013-11-02 (82)

Saturday, January 20, 2018

On Reaching #75

On Reaching #75
Friday the 13th. That’s today. It's also my birthday. So, thanks to each of you for all the well-wishes. You're all too thoughtful, really. It’s #75. As I was telling some of my USMC buddies a while ago, much of my life is becoming a lot like a dream - much forgotten and not sure of what I do remember. There are people I met long ago, for example, that I’m no longer sure when or where I met them. Sometimes they’ll pop up in a dream, people I hardly knew, and I can't remember if I knew them in High school, the Marine Corps, or during the “water” years. So many faces.
Names do that to me, too. A name of someone will suddenly come to mind and I can’t relate it to a specific experience or timeframe. I’m thinking, though, that this is probably not too unusual for anyone at 75 so, actually, I’m not caring too much about it.  Because when out for dinner with friends, you know, we laugh about what we couldn’t remember that day, right? So, c’est la vie, I say.
Nevertheless, I admit 75 does feels like a threshold. Like turning 30, or maybe 50, or 60, but different. Bucket list jokes are no longer that funny. I find myself thinking about things I want to do and can, and those I want to do and know I never will. It’s not depressing. There’s a kind of acceptance about it. Recognition of the inevitable, I guess. I’m not trying to be dark here. I have all I need in this world - love, laughter, good times, good health, great friends, comfortable home, truly wonderful wife and family, full days, an 80%-blind, 7.5 lb. shih tzu named Muggles that totally cares about me, 3 cats - one of which weighs 17 lbs. - and everything to look forward to. So, no, I’m not depressed. Pretty happy, actually. C’est la vie.
At reaching 75 - I say reaching, as in making it because I never expected to – I’m about as happy as I’ve ever been. I’ve had the incredibly wonderful good fortune to have experienced unforgettable, intoxicating exhilaration so many times. Way more than I deserve, for sure. How many folks can say that? Mostly during “firsts.” My first bike ride to school alone, for example, through the woods past where Roy Wooten lived, and, Major, that huge damned German police dog of theirs who I soon learned just wanted to scare the crap out of me but never hurt me; and my first solo barrel-roll in a T-28; and when I dropped out of FSU and hitch-hiked for three days from Tallahassee to Phoenix and met up with Tony Pearson who bought me a steak and egg breakfast after I called him up at 3 a.m. and said, guess who’s in town; and when CD Smith and I drove all around the country (Florida, Canada, San Francisco, Mexico) one summer on $200 in his mother’s Corvair Monza eating Vidalia onion and mustard sandwiches; and when walking up to the south rim of the Grand Canyon feeling my legs go weak at a sight I would never have believed could exist if someone had only told me about it; and when on final approach arriving back at Tampa Airport after over a year in Vietnam; and, yes, on my first kiss with Pam. Sure, there’re also decisions I made that were - shall we say - questionable, but looking in the rearview mirror now, I don’t have any real regrets.
So, upon reaching 75, I guess I find myself sharing these thoughts with you because it is a threshold, perhaps as it will be or was for you, and I want you to know, it’s ok. No, some of those items on my bucket list will never have a line scratched through them. Some were not practical even at 40, but I refuse to take them off. You know, maybe, somehow. But, the good thing is, I know there are things yet to experience I haven’t even thought of. That’s what keeps me getting up each day. Large or small, my life delivers a surprise every day that I could never have fathomed. I’m certainly ok with that, and happy on birthday #75. For what it’s worth.
Thank you for all those well wishes. Sincerely. And, many Happy birthdays to you, too!

The Blue Hour

There's a moment just before dawn and after sunset I call the blue hour. Don't ask me how or why it occurs but it's a moment when the image becomes dominated by a quality of light the film, or digital sensor, interprets as the color blue. It's that moment immediately before the morning sun takes full control and pushes the night aside for another day, or in the evening as the sun loses dominance and darkness assumes plurality for the night. It's that precise time when it is neither night nor day. This shot was taken at Horseshoe Beach, Florida, just as the sun was struggling to assert its presence after a long night of darkness. Dead Calm and quiet except for sounds of an awakening marsh. All blue.
Horseshoe Beach Florida
2014-03-31 (131)

Cedar Keys Fishing

Idling out of the bayou behind the Old Finnemore Mill headed for open water, recently at Cedar Key, Florida, goin' fishin' with Brent Whitley, Bill McCartney and Gary Kuhl. This view is to the south moments before daybreak, dead calm and coolish. Perfecto. It'll prove to be a great day.
2017-10-28 (17) Cedar Keys


Thursday, January 18, 2018

Spider Glitter

Was fishing with friends on the Chassahowitzka River a few years ago on a cold January morning. On the way out to the boat, a spider had spun her web low on the wooden walkway's hand railing which caught my eye. It was not big, about the size of my hand. But it was backlit by the sun just bright enough to give the tiny droplets of dew amazing and wonderful detail. The lot of a photographer is to never let other objectives get in the way of a shot of opportunity, despite the abuse of others who clearly felt their fishing should not be delayed by the apparent idiocy of a guy on his knees trying to photograph a bug. This was taken with a 70-200mm telephoto lens at 105mm. 
Chassahowitzka River Florida
2013-01-26 (122) 8:16 a.m.

Chassahowitzka River Florida
2013-01-26 (122) 8:16 a.m.
ISO 200;1/320 sec; 105 mm; AP priority
013-01-26 (122) 8:16 a.m.