As we head into the middle of summer, I am looking forward to some downtime under a tiki hut sipping a frosty little drink with an umbrella. Umbrellas in glasses are a crucial element for survival in harsh environments. This is an important fact you may wish to keep in mind. You’re very welcome.
I took this about five years ago at Fort DeSoto Park. Looking at it now I wish I’d used a smaller aperture so the foreground would be sharper, but I like the photo anyway. Sometimes I try not to sweat the little stuff if I like the image. Technically the picture is a bit subpar, but I like the shot anyway, and in my mind, that’s what counts.
Here is a picture from the other day at the pier in Venice, Florida. Isn’t it interesting how so many places are named after a city in Italy?
I suppose it’s no surprise; it just makes me wonder what we’ll name places on Mars should we ever begin to colonize there. If there are no bodies of water, Venice may not be high on the list. You never know.
The other day I visited the pier at the beach in Venice, Florida. It’s an excellent place to hang out at the end of the day.
I took this picture from the patio of Sharky’s, one of the best beach restaurants in the region. When guests come to town, this is where we go. From the terrace, you walk onto the pier to fish or look for dolphins. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.
What caught my eye was the sunlight through the grass. At the time, I thought to focus on the less obvious subject. It’s the concept behind my website name. Sometimes, I focus on highlighting the underappreciated gems right in front of the more obvious choice. While I don’t always succeed, that’s the idea behind “Just Enough Focus” dot com.
I take a lot of these shots and just can’t seem to get enough of them. It reminds me of times I visited Hawaii and would float for long stretches in the water, rocking with the waves. Now that I live in Florida, it’s ironic that I can go whenever I want but seldom do.
When I see a bunch of shells on the beach, I want to hoard them like a pirate. At some point in history, these were money.
This photo is reprocessed from an earlier version here. The tools for post-processing are continually being updated, so lately I’ve been having a little fun going back to old photos to tease out a new look. I don’t recall what tools I used back in 2015, but this time, I used the latest version of Skylum’s Luminar.
Nevertheless, what got my attention in this scene is all of the shells in the foreground; they must have been deposited after a storm. You can go to a store and buy a bag of shells for ten bucks, or you could just go to the beach and pick them up yourself. Better yet, send me the money, and I’ll get them for you! (just kidding)
This picture is another in a series of dunes on Anna Maria Island. This might not be the most exciting thing you see today.
A lot of effort goes into protecting these dunes and the natural flora that grows here. There are signs every thirty feet or so warning people to use the bridges to cross over to the beach. Even so, I’ve seen a few idiots disregard the signs and walk over the plants. I guess not everyone has a brain.
Anyway, I love taking photos of these because they are an additional dimension to the landscape of the beach. And for the most part, they are the only place that the plants have a place to grow freely. Unlike dunes in the Sahara, these don’t blow away or change their shape. We have the untrampled plants to thank for that.
To see the sunset like this, you walk into the park after closing. Doing so I thought I’d be alone but found a crowd along the shore, all with the same idea. After sunset, I took a quiet trail back to avoid the crowds. However, the trails have lifesize cutouts of historical figures, and more than once, I was startled by conquistadores and aboriginals staring back at me. It was a little unnerving, to say the least.
Living along the coast, you develop a sense of normalcy about living where others vacation. So it’s good to get away for some perspective and then come back. It’s human nature; nothing lasts forever, even that feeling at the start of a long weekend.