Don't be like Bush Babe (Valentine's edition)

Today was apparently Valentine's Day...

I know this because I went to a dinner last night with my beloved (and our progeny). Not so much a gaze-into-each-other's-eyes romatic dinner, as a sit-around-with-friends-and-get-waited-on-by-schoolkids dinner. It was fabulous.

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It was a fundraiser for a local small school (not ours, a big THREE-teacher school nearby). An event which cost (are you ready?) $35 per couple and $5 per child - fees which included a three-course-meal (really nice and well-served) lots of fairy lights and candles, pizza for the little 'uns and babysitting. We ate and drank while others cared for our kids and cleaned up after us. The best value I have ever experienced!

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So we knew it was Valentine's Day because that was last night's dinner theme. But we aren't really into the whole card-giving, bunch-of-flowers, romantic stuff. Today started and ended much as any other day of the year. Not that we don't feel the love (she hastened to add) but we don't save it for a special day in the year. It's pretty random in our household - when the mood strikes. And let's just say it rarely takes the form of a Hallmark card.

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If you subject yourself to my twittering, you'll know that a few days ago Mr Incredible offered to take care of the kids and cook dinner, while I went out in the paddocks to take photos for a couple of hours. It was the kind of offer he knew would ring my bells. Seriously, I couldn't get out of the place fast enough. My excitement was slightly over-the-top - afternoons (as any Mum of young kids knows) is an exhausting parade of unpacking schoolbags, dealing with tired and hungry offspring through food-and-drink regeneration programs, squeezing in last-minute washing loads, preparing dinner and wondering if that sunset will last long enough for you to get a shot once the kids are out of the bath. (For the record, it hardly ever does.)

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So I went - hastily grabbing my camera bag and thanking my husband profusely on the way out of the door. He gave me a satisfied 'Why yes, I AM Husband of the Year' smile. I leapt into his ute and took off in a cloud of happy dust. I made it about five kilometres before I realised I had forgotten the parcel I was supposed to deliver to my brother en route. (Because I have to mult-task, that's why!).

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So I hauled the Toyota around and headed back to the house. With a wry smile, I grabbed the parcel and waved goodbye for a second time. My family collectively shook their heads at my forgetfulness. The word 'typical' rose in little thought bubbles above their heads.

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I got about three kilometres into the much-anticipated photo trip (I had about an hour's window of great afternoon light) when I stopped to take my first shot. Fabulous cobalt blue skies, soaring jet streams towering over rippling hills of succulent green grass... I pressed my trigger finger. Nothing. I looked down at the camera. No memory card.

Are you kidding me?

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Around I turned again, pressing the pedal to the floor to waste as little time as possible on the SECOND return to the house. Head down, I dashed into the office, mumbling something at my slightly-astonished family (is she EVER going to leave?) and out the door again. I slid the card into the back of the Nikon to check I had enough space - yup. A goer.

Off I headed again (fingers firmly crossed as I drove).

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My main challenge for the outing was to get shots of cattle for promotion for our stud. Lucky for me, the recently branded calves and their mothers were grazing peacefully near the road.

YES. I was in business.

They milled around the ute as I snapped happily away...

Lovely. Green with happy bovines. Sweet.

Pretty polled heads posing in the sunshine.

Happy days.

After gathering a nice bunch of cow shots, I drove off. I allowed myself to indulge in a little 'landscape' action (offering some much-needed relief to those who have overdosed on my Shallow Depth of Field period last week).

Bottle trees reaching above the clouds.

More boabs, rampant green grass and red roads.

Almost a sensory overload.

Well it was actually. For my camera.

It grunted, it groaned.

It stopped altogether.

Flat battery.

Yuh huh.

You heard me right.

The World's Most Impetuous Photographer failed to check ANYTHING.

I immediately sacked myself (several times actually),

And then drove home, muttering furiously about wasted opportunities.

I drove by the magnificence of utterly still water in roadside dams perfectly reflecting the dusky skies above?

You will just have to trust me - it was amazing. Amazingly frustrating with NO CAMERA.

Then I looked down and panicked - the low-fuel light was on.

(I braced myself and called in, only to be reassured via two-way radio that there was a second tank full of fule if I just pressed a button. I promptly sacked myself as a bushie as well.)

So please. In matters of photography, or romance, or country life...

Just ignore me, okay?

Because (to steal a line from a fellow Aussie blogger)

the chances I'll learn from this Valentine's escapade?

Approximately...