Gwynn's Island Bridge

I took these pictures of the Gwynn's Island bridge a while ago. In the upper shot I was waiting for the bridge to open and decided to use my time wisely, because that's what I always do, use my time wisely, where "wisely" equals "about as wisely as a three-toed sloth." Also, I rarely waste time, where "rarely" is defined as "almost always, daily or in everything I do."

The Gwynn's Island Bridge was built in 1939. In 1885 a cable ferry--which had to be manually pulled--operated between the island and the mainland. I have no idea what they did before 1885, but I'm sure it was no picnic. Speaking of no picnic, I'd like to talk about how difficult it is sometimes to take these pictures I toss up here. "Sometimes" may be defined as "practically every time I've ever taken one of these pictures."

Do you know how many times I've had people stare at me like I'm some kind of freak when I take pictures for this blog? Plenty, that's how many.

People just don't get it when they see me snapping pictures of a bridge that's opening, particularly if those people are parked behind me waiting for the bridge to open too. They wonder why in the world anyone would want pictures of a bridge. I know, because I can see it on their face. They never take their eyes off me because they think I'm up to no good. They think I'm taking pictures for a lawsuit or to put all over the internet. I am definitely not taking pictures for a lawsuit, for Pete's sake.

There are hazards involved with taking these pictures too.

For example, today I went back down to the public landing to check on the soybean fields I photographed a few weeks ago. I was studying the field (while driving, please do not try this at home), and noticed a field full of goldenrod. Well, OK. I have no idea if it was goldenrod or not. But for the purposes of this post, we're going to call it goldenrod.

I stopped the car and decided I needed to cross over a ditch to get a better shot. I left the car running, nervously checked to see if any cars were coming, and leapt across the ditch. Right into an old, rusty barbed-wire (or, as some folks say, bob wire) fence that I didn't see because it is probably three hundred years old and blends right in with the pine needles, which are also rust colored.

Next, after plenty of high-steppin,' kickin', hissin' and spittin,' (with just a splash of cussin') I went straight into a briar patch. I did get the darn pictures, but I was none too pleased, and you'll probably never be able to see if it was goldenrod or not because the pictures were not that good.

Last but not least, today I decided to try snapping pictures while driving. Kids? Do not try this at home. Adults? Do not try this at home. Chesapeake Bay Woman? Don't ever try this again.

I've already gone over the whole trespassing issue in previous posts. That pretty much is a given for any picture I put up here that doesn't come from my own yard, which means that 98% of the shots have involved some trespassing.

Or not, depending on who is reading this.

I conclude by saying that I am willing to do whatever it takes to get a picture, where "whatever it takes" sometimes involves enduring scoffs, danger and hazards.

And maybe--just maybe, depending on who is reading this--a hint of trespassing. Or not.