Today the Mister and I ventured out to the Scottish Festival on River Road. We got a late start waiting for the hot water heater to generate enough for two showers, and arrived just in time for the doggie parade, which, sadly, I didn’t get any decent pictures of.

What I did get, however, was a chance to be proud of my ability and willingness to get the shot. We fairly casually met up with some of the other folks from EPS, who had been chatting over email about trying to get some shots at the festival. When the bagpipes started, off I went (lickety-split, as Burgess would have written) to see what was up. And found myself almost perfectly positioned to catch the beginnings of the [human] parade going from one end of the festival to the other. When the line approached me, I managed for the second time every to actually run still encumbered with camera and bag. And snapped off some more shots, eventually grabbing a tolerable shot of the young anthem singer at her microphone.

We’ve been talking about more field trips and group events – the festival was just a quickie little idea that someone threw out there just for a place to go that didn’t require too much investment (with gas prices what they are, who wants to drive 40-60 miles with a risk of getting rained out??) It turned out pretty darn good, all things considered. We had fun, no-one expected award-winning photos, so no-one was disappointed, AND I finally found out why the only Scottish clan I can even half-heartedly claim is so reviled. (I’ve gone 4 generations back on that branch of the family tree, and still haven’t found my Campbell emigrant, so who knows how far from the clan I really am?) And I managed to get my grandmother a lovely tartan scarf for the next gift-giving occasion.