We live in a golden age of photography - accessible, instantly gratifying, and free (once the kit's paid for). Whether you own a smartphone, a budget compact camera or a high-end mirrorless setup, being able to capture moments and freeze them forever is a rare privilege. Online, we can browse the work of our favourite photographers, travel vicariously to exotic locations, or spend time minutely examining the detail of bird's feather or the hexagonal geometry of a fly's eye.
There’s a wonderful children’s book by Juliette MacIver that inspired this post’s title. It’s a colourful and energetic rhyming romp through a zoo that neatly demonstrates a human condition – confirmation bias.
Early August in Matabeleland feels like an ecological inflection point to me. We’re about halfway between rainy seasons. The cool, dry season is all but over – and with it the bulk of the cold weather that we usually experience – but we’re still subject to the south-easterly cold fronts that provide bitter wintry rebukes all the way up to September. With no measurable rain since April and intermittent cold snaps over the past few weeks, any grass not irrigated has turned a pale straw colour, neutralized by water stress and frost. In deciduous woodland, a few leaves cling futilely to branches, daring the building winds to cut them loose. Grass and leaves crunch underfoot. Dust and smoke have turned the sunsets fiery and midday skies from the impossible azure of early May to a pale whitish-blue.
