August 31, 2008
August 27, 2008
August 24, 2008
August 21, 2008
August 20, 2008
I met my neighbors the other day, thanks to my bold curiosity about her gardening prowess. This evening, as I crouched on the ground to capture this stunning sunflower [and I didn't add a thing to this photo, so far as color or other touch-ups go!], their young son poked his head up from the vine behind me and made a proud announcement [he had already granted me permission to take photos in his garden]. “Hey! You can take a picture of this one too . . . we have a pickle . . . Wait–we have two pickles!!!”
Wow–I wish my garden grew pickles . . . .
Young Connor kindly consoled me for my lack of a pickle-growing garden . . .
August 19, 2008
Watching the hummingbirds this evening, we wondered out loud as to the fact that there were only females flitting about. Then we realized why: a solitary male approached, and was promptly shoved out of the way by a female . . . he did not persist in his efforts and nor, it seems, did any other of these northern hummers!
August 17, 2008
August 16, 2008
Yes, this is, in fact, a lawnmower. And yes, I did, in fact, take a photo of it today. Why? Well, it made perfect sense to me: for after spending the afternoon with this particular view, I realized that I was quite fond of it . . . and what is more natural than to want to capture the image of something you are fond of? Ok, so maybe it is the end result that make me so fond of this machine, but it doesn’t need to know that, now does it?
August 14, 2008
This was the day’s DIY home repair project. And while it was certainly no work of fine craftmanship, done as best as I could figure out how to do it, I was proud of my work all the same. I was also amused by the fact that, as I crouched on the floor with putty-covered hands and concentrated push-point-placings, two burly athletes sat watching me. One took his mother’s phone call, arguing good-naturedly about when he would make it to their family vacation; the other concentrated on his cell phone, cursing his large hands when he accidentally texted an unspoken message to an unintended recipient. And I contentedly carried out my solitary project to its satisfactory completion.
August 11, 2008
No doubt you wonder why I would be so interested in this, apparently mundane, sort of scene. The reason is a simple one–silly, even: it reminds me of a painting I clipped out of a magazine back in high school. It was an impressionist scene, of a girl lost in her delight, flying high in a swing such as this one, suspended over a forest spring. The depiction captivated me at the time so that I longed to be transported into the middle of it. But I have no idea who painted it, and have not seen it since high school, so who knows what that particular piece of art was, or if it would have the same impact on my now . . . in my cynical old age ;-)