We enjoy vegetable soup for lunch after church, and I lose another game of chess while we eat. I’m determined to crack the code of this game and beat my undefeated-in-this-house husband. I told Makiya that I’ll phone her with the celebratory news when I manage it. ”I won’t believe it’s you on the phone,”
I shoot drooping tulips and wrestle with my manuscript—two sweet ways to spend a morning. When I emerge from the woman cave for lunch (tomato soup, that I canned last summer, topped with fresh basil from the Aerogarden), the sun is peeking out. We have a late afternoon appointment in town, so enjoy a leisurely lunch,
The tulips on my kitchen table are starting to droop in the lazy way they are prone to. I’d like to pull out my camera and capture some images, but the light is terrible. I go for a pedicure instead. Now it’s morning, and dark, and I feel human again after a good night’s rest.
It starts to feel like it has always been winter. Cabin fever sets in. I bring some tulips home and arrange them in a vase. A bit of spring on my table. In silent solitude I sit with my camera and find peace among the waxy petals. Later, when I take the Yorkie outside I
I plug the card from my big girl camera into my laptop and watch as the images I captured in Mexico download. The photos I’ve posted here and elsewhere so far, were taken with my phone—quick shots, without a lot of thought put into them, they are reasonable images. When I shoot with my camera, however, I’m
Saturday in December? I’ll stay home where it’s quiet, thank you very much. But I propose something else after we enjoy a late lunch, and a game of Qwirkle (the house favourite): a drive with our cameras to see what we can see. Gerry is all for it. We gather our cameras and related paraphernalia,
Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale. Lauren DeStefano, Wither Feeling kind of quiet this morning. Trust you understand . . .