A few tense moments for photographer
As an outdoor writer/ photographer, I spend a great deal of time in the woods and have been stung by various insects and, on occasion, a few other critters. Getting the best photo possible sometimes calls for calculated risks, some that weren’t well planned, but I don’t like being stung or bitten any more than the next fellow.
So, upon getting zapped the other day, I became a little concerned, not necessarily because of pain, but because of resulting uncertainties.
Immediately after a shortlived rain shower, I parked at a wide spot in the road and headed along a trail to a glade located a short distance into the woods. Upon reaching the glade, I was somewhat disappointed because it had yet to bloom. Other species were showing, however, so I scanned my surroundings for the most vibrant colony of flowers available.
Wading into a stand of tall weeds, I secured the camera to the tripod and situated it within inches of the colorful blooms, which I shot a few days before with pleasing results. Hoping for a totally different perspective, I lay down in the tall grass, peered directly up at the plant and figured how I should compensate for a drab gray sky.
Getting a couple of shots from one spot, I rolled over on my side, peered through the viewfinder and refocused the lens. Just about the time the subject came into crisp view, I detected a burning sensation in my lower back. I had obviously rolled over something taking refuge in the weeds and definitely capable of dealing out misery.
Quickly sitting up, I parted the tall grass, expecting to find some form of squashed insect. Much to my surprise, not a sign of any critter remained. A bug, I thought, might have made it through the ordeal unscathed but I suspected it would be in the vicinity.
Reaching back and gently rubbing the area of my back that by this time was literally throbbing, I was certain I detected two small welts. Knowing that the area provided perfect habitat for snakes, perhaps I had unsuspectingly laid down on a copperhead.
I then recalled a friend’s account of when he was bitten by the exact species causing my concern. He told of pain more intense than of that derived from a wasp sting with swelling in the vicinity of the bite. I was definitely experiencing the pain, but the remaining symptom had yet to occur. All I could do was monitor the area in question, gently rubbing my back occasionally.
Still hoping that I had been stung by some kind of insect, I scoured the area for any sign of evidence, looking in vain for an indication of something capable of stinging or biting. I then became more concerned that a snake could have let me have it and slithered away. For sure, I had never been bitten or stung by anything capable of dealing out such pain.
Concluding that I wasn’t going to locate the varmint, I slowly made my way back to the truck, occasionally stopping to photograph plants along the route. Before reaching my vehicle, I concluded that if a snake had bitten me, swelling would have occurred. The pain had yet to subside, but I felt a sigh or relief. My imagination had simply gotten the better of me, and although unsure of what had stung me, at least I wasn’t in for several days of anguish.
PARIS — Sidelined in 2008 by a right shoulder that needed surgery, putting her tennis future suddenly in doubt, Maria Sharapova decided to use the free time to study a new language, the one spoken at the only Grand Slam tournament she had yet to win.
“I found a French school close to my house,” she recalled, “and I did private lessons every single day for three months.”
Sharapova cut short those classes when it was time to begin the slow, painful rehab process and get her shoulder back in shape. About 3 1/ 2 years later, on Saturday at Roland Garros, Sharapova put all of that hard work to good use on the most important clay court there is — and even trotted out a little French during the victory speech she often wondered if she’d ever get a chance to deliver.
Whipping big serves with that rebuilt shoulder,