Whoever described summer days as “lazy” wasn’t a gardener. I am, and this time of year is far from lazy around here. Yesterday, after an early trip to the garden to water, weed, and harvest, I spent the rest of the morning washing, chopping, and bagging while I sent Gerry out to foist some cucumbers
It’s windy, so shooting outside isn’t an option for the kind of photography I’m hungry for. Fortunately, there’s a pretty bunch of pink alstroemerias on the dining table that will do nicely. In the past, when I shoot indoors, I’ve liked to work in the woman cave using the natural light from the big north-facing
After a couple of games of chess, we go to the community garden. Gerry drags out the hose to water while I head to the basil and start cutting. The sweet, fresh aroma wafts up—so fresh!—and a woman working in another plot calls over that she can smell it from there. I fill a large
I came across this photo I captured eight years ago of the bridge at Snoqualmie Falls in WA. I was just starting on my photography journey, and Gerry and I were taking classes at the Green River Community College. I don’t mind telling you I struggled in these classes—well, not so much in the classes
I’m behind by a couple of tutorials in the Jean Haines Watercolour School I signed up for. They’re interesting, and I’m chomping at the bit to dig in. I need to stake my tomatoes and tend to a handful of other things at the community garden. My desk is a mess. There are Story Circle Network
I want to share a photo I took of the grocery store flowers last week but I can think of nothing to say this morning. Wait. It’s Wednesday. (Almost) Wordless Wednesday. Perfect. (P.S. There’s a new post up on my other blog.) (I’m being quiet now.)
The little electric stove in the corner of the room hums (and makes a disconcerting noise that has me wondering if it’s nearing the end of its lifespan) and Murphy, my constant companion, is tucked in his crate watching every move I make. A fading bunch of grocery store flowers is on the table next
Often, I take photographs looking out over the ridge where we live to the hills and clay cliffs across the valley. You’ve seen some of them here. Less frequently, I lift my lens toward the south because it’s just not as spectacular. And yet the view from there captivates me in a different way. Early
I can’t order proof copies of new unpublished books from Amazon KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) because of COVID and the fact that I’m in Canada which, of course, in the grand scheme is insignificant but in my little world is an annoyance. It also makes absolutely no sense. I need to get creative to do
One afternoon we took our cameras to the rose garden. The photos I took remained on my camera card, my camera languishing on the antique stove in my woman cave, for weeks. I took time to download and process them a few days ago and found a bit of soft magic. This image evokes a
I must have known it at some point but the knowledge that the sun rises due east on only the spring and fall equinoxes and that now, as we approach the summer solstice it’s more northeast, faded. Watching the sun rise over the hill on the other side of the ridge this morning confuses me.