This afternoon, just after noon, I went to the Waysider to get a breakfast-lunch before going to see "The Most Exotic Marigold Hotel," at 1:30pm.
As I walked up to the door, I saw that closing time on Saturday's is noon. But I stuck my head in and Linda said, "Come on in; we're still cooking." So I had my breakfast: ham, eggs, grits, biscuits, and one pancake with a glass of milk.
On my way out, the sun was shining on the impatients and the fern, hanging on the porch, so I shot a picture. This picture, however, has been enhanced by Instagram and then written on by Snap.
I think it might look better without the purple background for the writing. Anyway, I'm just experimenting.
After, I went to the movie. I was expecting a visual feast, but not the heartwarming humanity of the story. I could see myself in each one of the female parts: the persnickity woman in the wheel chair, played by Maggie Smith; the innocent, naive widow so open to life, played by Judy Dench; even the embittered, negative wife, played by I-don't-know-her-name-but-she's-on-Downton-Abbey.
The lighting was exquisite. I couldn't take my eyes off an old bench lit by the Indian sun. And the scene where the gay guy dies and all you see is the egret flying off and disappearing into the sky was breathtaking.
And then, Henry came by to get the lens I bought with my Canon several years ago. (The one with the short F stop.) Maybe he can make good use of it at the Phoot Photography Workshop he's going to in New York next week, as he carries into another generation the "image maker's" ability to capture life in "frames."
Altogether, a very satisfying day.
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