Saturday, February 7, 2009

Fence Me In

DAY 37

06 FEB 09

Every day since the beginning of the soccer season (starting with team tryouts), I've had to pick my daughter up from school and drive her to the high school for practice instead of letting her ride the bus home. Although this makes me crazy, I do it. You make sacrifices for your kids. It's what you do.

So every day, my son and I sit in the truck in a line outside my daughter's school. My son finishes up his homework while my head spins like a 45 rpm record looking for things to photograph. On Day 37, I happened to be sitting right at the end of the school's driveway, with a great angle on the fence, so I shot it.

I love saying that. I'm not sure why. It's a little sick, but it's fun.

Anyway, this fence has always been a bit of an enigma for me. It's a short, white picket fence. It's also one of the plastic pre-fab numbers. It's white, it's kind of quaint, I suppose it could be there in order to make the school aesthetically pleasing, and it kind of does that, but there are so many other things that could have been done with much better results.

This school is not in the best part of town, and the rest of the school is surrounded by a very tall (8 foot, maybe?) chain link fence, clearly there to keep things out. But this little plastic white picket fence is obviously not going to stop anything from getting onto the school grounds, so it even makes the other chain link moot. Is it just there to demonstrate separation? A psychological thing?

Do not cross this line.

Kind of like that old joke where the guy draws a line in the dirt with a stick and dares the other person to cross it?

Who knows? But it's there. And I took a picture of it because I was parked in the perfect spot to do so. So there.

**snort**

This one was the usual post-processing that's becoming quite the habit for me: noise reduction, sharpening, curves adjustment, border addition.

2 comments:

  1. Thanks, Heather! I admit I was pretty excited when I saw what I had.

    ReplyDelete