SOTC 313/365

A bird on the lens is worth...

Cameras Don't Bounce

It was in my hands; then it was on the ground.

I couldn't even tell you exactly what happened, it was so quick. I had removed it from around my shoulders so that I could get a low-down shot of a pink-and-yellow tulip I particularly admired (a shot that never worked out, by the way). When I stood up--maybe I stepped on the edge of the dangling strap. Maybe someone else did. Maybe I bumped into something.

The next thing that registers in my brain is the simultaneous whack of camera against concrete, and the crunch of breaking glass. There is a split-second where a few people in the immediate area turn towards the noise, and join my friend and I as we, quite audibly, gasp. In the next split-second, the crowd has assessed the irrelevance of the event to their own lives, and has turned its attention back to previous affairs, while I have scooped the camera up off the ground and am moving to a less crowded area so I can assess the damage.

I turn the camera off and on; it still works. Miraculously--I don't remember doing this--the live-view screen has been folded inwards, so it is completely intact. I gently shake the camera back and forth. It seems there are no rattling pieces inside; a good sign.*

I inspect my 18-135mm IS lens. Certainly not my most expensive, but not my cheapest either. And currently my favourite. The UV filter I place on all my lenses to protect them is completely broken. I carefully remove the few broken bits of glass from around the edges. The metal ring that screws into the lens itself is bent, and therefore jammed. I cannot pry it off the lens, nor can I attach anything to it (other filters, the lens cap). The plastic rim of the lens is chipped in a couple small places. But as I twist the lens to zoom in, out, and take a couple test shots, it looks as if that may be the worst of it.

My camera works. The lens works. Neither are broken (nor likely even compromised, what with a little work once I get home to pry the ring off the lens).

"Oh, my God, thank You!" I literally shout towards the sky.

Suddenly, I am in awe of much more than the tulips I came for in the first place.

* that being said, some tiny part rattled around inside my old dSLR for years without compromising its function.

122/365

"Portrait lens, I missed you!"