It was a beautiful misty morning of the sort that makes the photographer in me eager to get out and shoot, but I didn't.  That's not surprising these days.  After N hit the wall last year, I didn't shoot for a long time.  My head was way, way to preoccupied with keeping her safe to let go enough to let my creativity flow.

I finally started again perhaps a month ago.  When I get up and get out and just do it, I can again, which is a great relief.  The problem now is that it is hard to do anything at all.

The fall colours came and went last year without my noticing much aside from how well the somber colours suited my mood on rainy days.  I looked forward to shooting the early snows as winter approached, but when they arrived I could not imagine making photographs, and nor could I when they melted again in the spring. In early summer the wildflowers on our land were just beautiful, and knowing as I did by then that we must move, I was determined to get out and shoot them, as I had so many times in other years, but somehow I just couldn't get my head there.

And now it is fall again, and at last I am shooting, a little, on my good days.

N took me to buy a couple pumpkins today.  I told her I might well not feel up to carving them when to time comes, but she just said she knew that, and took me anyhow.

After she hit the wall last year, I did everything I could think of to take care of her, to give her an environment in which she could heal.  A few weeks ago I told her I just couldn't any more, because I was falling apart myself.

She has really stepped up since then.  I see her quietly working away in the background on things that need to get done so we can sell the farm, and it is such a great relief to see it.  Until recently it seemed like nothing happened unless I was a driving force behind it, and I was terrified about what would happen with me no longer able to do that.

Maybe it will all turn out okay.

Last week was a particularly rough one, for no particular reason.  One day while N was out the tears I so often feel behind my eyes began to flow.  My mind looked for something good to think about, some reason for hope, something to appreciate, and though there is much in my life to be grateful for, it all seemed empty.  I told myself that it would pass, that I would feel better again, and I believed it, but I just didn't care.

I realized then that I couldn't think of single reason to keep going.  I thought about some of the slashers I've known over the years, and I wondered if that would make me feel better.  I thought seriously about ending it.  It would be so easy, and the suffering would end.

And then I thought about N, and what it would do to her.  And my daughter.  And my parents.  And I knew I would not be the author of their grief.

I'm a Nikon guy.  I'm not religious about it, and indeed there is a lens or two in the Canon lineup that I'd love to have the use of, but I have a lot of money invested in Nikon glass, and I've done some great work with my trusty D2X.

A few weeks back Nikon announced the much anticipated Nikon D3, their new flagship camera scheduled to ship next month. I caused quite a stir by heading in a new direction ... instead of having more pixels than previous cameras, it is actually slightly lower resolution than the 3 year old D2X.

But these are no ordinary pixels ... Samples released by Nikon and various independant photographers loaned pre-production units show extraordinary low noise performance at high ISO settings. And if you'd ask me, what is the one thing, and there may be only one, that I would change on my D2X, that's what it would be. This camera is revolutionary, and will make possible photographs that I just cannot take right now.

N says I can order one when the tractor sells.

I'm going to miss the tractor, a lot. But a new D3 will sure help the medicine go down.

My depression is like a dark, malevolent fog that rises up inside me and obscures all that is beautiful in the world.  I know that the sun still shines above the clouds, but I cannot see it, nor predict when I might see it next.  I can look at something or think of someone that has brought me pleasure, and I can remember that it was so, but I cannot remember how it feels.

The clouds break without warning, and suddenly I am cheerful, my mind is clear, and the world is beautiful.I begin to make plans, I start projects, I am ready to take the world by storm....

And then a day later, or an hour later, the fog rises again and I cannot find the motivation to do the simplest of things.

These times will not be remembered, by me, as good times, or even as moderately poor times.  Looking back, my eye sees a trail of failed plans and broken dreams.  Looking forward I see overwhelming hurdles.  And looking at the present I see a man who once ran companies and who now finds it difficult, often times, just to answer an email.

My view is skewed, I know that.  But knowing that offers very little help in gaining a more balanced perspective, and I am accutely aware these days that we do not, any of us, live in reality.  We live in perception.

My life in my perception is particularly unpleasant these days.  Perhaps by sharing here I can find a path to a brighter existence.

Turi.