We have a new garage door. When you’re a homeowner, a lot of things become a priority that you’d just as soon not deal with. My husband and I are expert at kicking the can down the road until we have no choice but to deal with it. In this case, the garage door, after 45 years, decided it no longer wanted to open without my husband’s help. We’re not getting any younger so …
Voila! A garage door with windows!
Let the sun shine in!
It will be nice not to have to turn on a light every time we enter the garage.
Family
We visited my nephew and his family in South Carolina this weekend. Our first visit, but not our last. He has two teenage sons and a 6-year-old boy and (almost) 4-year-old girl. The drive from our home to Columbia was long (about 10 hours start to finish); the way home was only an hour shorter. But it was well worth it to have quality time with my nephew and his family and to be (at times) commandeered by his two youngest. For the most part, they considered us as furniture and spent a goodly amount of time sitting or lying on our laps. I had hoped to see a bit of Columbia itself, but once we were there, we just wanted to be with family.
Health
The last few weeks were spent seeing a lot of my orthopedic doctor as we (once again) tried a treatment to alleviate most of the pain in my left knee. Fortunately, I really like my doctor. She’s young, she listens, and she’s, overall, very cool. I received a series of hyaluronic acid injections as expected but she also removed a large amount of inflammatory fluid before each injection. Ick.
While my knee will never feel 100% great, I’m having a lot less pain. Fingers crossed it stays that way for a long while.
Between poison ivy, mosquitoes and gnats, working in our gardens is not for the recklessly unprotected. This summer I suffered through a few run-ins with poison ivy and poured rubbing alcohol on as many mosquito bites before I threw vanity to the wind and accepted my fate: If I want to work outdoors, I better dress appropriately.
Ready for weeding duty!
Genius
Genius is not something I often (if ever) associate with myself, but in this case …
I have a fetish for Baggalini. I have several Baggalini items, from a fanny pack to a backpack and a few bags in-between. I don’t use these bags everywhere, all at once, but I admire their construction, durability, and numerous zippered pockets so much that I can easily rationalize buying another. To wit, the toiletry bag which I did not need. The one I bought from REI about 30 years ago is still my go-to toiletry bag … and it’s purple.
But this toiletry bag was on sale through eBay.
I couldn’t resist. But what will I do with it, since I don’t need a second toiletry bag?
Voila! Behold, my knitting tool bag:
Another Fashion Statement
It’s a wonder I spend any time outside at all given what I have to do to protect myself. When it comes to bicycling, I need to protect my skin from the sun, from other cyclists who might want to claim they didn’t see me coming, and potential road rash.
No surprise that hummingbirds and butterflies have found me to be an object of interest.
Jane Goodall
Jane Goodall photographed in London in 2017. Photograph: David Levene/The Guardian
I was sad to hear of her death. “She was only 91!” Ever since my mom died just 5 weeks shy of turning 100, I’ve set the bar pretty high for when anyone can die from natural causes. This morning I read a brief article in The Guardian about Goodall. It concluded with this:
In 2021, Goodall published The Book of Hope, in which she admitted she sometimes felt she was fighting a losing battle, but explained how she kept going.
Speaking to the Guardian at the time, she said: “You have to feel depressed, but then there’s something that says: ‘There is still an awful lot left and that’s what we’ve got to fight to save.’
“So then you get extra energy. I have days when I feel like not getting up, but it doesn’t last long. I guess because I’m obstinate.
“I’m not going to give in. I’ll die fighting, that’s for sure.”
Cats
Do I need to say anything about this photo?
Raji in deep slumber.
Thank you for reading! Tell me if you will:
Do you have to suit up before spending any time outdoors? Do mosquitoes and other biting insects find you especially tasty?
Have you ever repurposed one thing for another, like my toiletry bag for a knitting bag? Do tell because I can always use another excuse to buy another Baggalini bag.
What gets you up in the morning? Are you “obstinate” like Goodall or just naturally optimistic?
I was going to do a “Macro Monday” but the photo below isn’t a macro and there’s story behind it anyway.
What you see here is a baby bluebird. A live one, fortunately.
A bluebird chick in the hand.
First, some context: a few months ago we set up a bluebird box in our front yard. Well, it’s on the other side of our driveway, a narrow stretch that is bordered street side with azaleas and our 8-foot fence opposite the street. Apparently, it’s a good spot because a pair of bluebirds have moved in and started their SECOND clutch a couple of weeks ago. We’ve never saw the first clutch of bluebirds, but during the first and with this second, we’ve enjoyed seeing Ma and Pa Bluebird take turns bringing juicy worms to the box.
Today, when I arrived home after attending a yoga class and grocery shopping, my husband came out to help me with my loot.
Then he saw the tail end of a gray rat snake hanging from the opening in the box. He quickly went into action.
He grabbed the tail but the snake wouldn’t budge. Nothing to be done but pull up the box (it’s attached to a long pole) and see if we can get the snake out.
SNAKE WARNING: the next photo shows the snake.
Gray rat snake in a bluebird box, with a bluebird chick.
Son of a b———. We could see the snake had a grip on a chick. My husband upended the box and the snake and two chicks fell out.
The snake wasted no time in slithering away. It was obvious one chick was dead, probably smothered, but the other one (see photo above) was alive.
Then, when we righted the box, we discovered two other (alive) chicks!
I slipped the chick back into the box, we placed the pole back in the ground, and then my husband put an apron-like baffler around the pole.
We already had a squirrel baffler on the pole and thought that would be enough to deter snakes. We thought wrong.
Here’s hoping that Ma and Pa Bluebird recommence with feeding their youngun’.
Meanwhile …
Wendy is doing quite well. Two weeks now with no vomiting or diarrhea. We started her on a special diet, for now mixing it with regular food, and she’s been licking her bowl clean. The last drug she’ll come off is Cerenia, for nausea. She’ll stay on PredisOLONE for life.
We have three more B12 shot appointments, but those are in-and-out, no waiting around for the vet.
Nature We rarely spend time on the east side of our house. Only a chain-linked fence separates us from our neighbors there, and they are on a higher elevation so we have no privacy if we are all out at the same time. Maybe not a problem; just an excuse. Still, we miss the wonder of our Camilla bushes when we neglect that side. One bush in particular gave a wonderful view of the cycle of Life, from one new bud to a spent bloom.
Snow To my utter shock, we had a couple of inches of snow in Tallahassee last week. Far less than other places (like New Orleans and Pensacola), but enough to surprise me. I’ve lived here since June 1990, and I can count on one hand the number of times it has snowed in Tallahassee. Usually we just have flurries and the snow melts as soon as it hits the ground. But this year was exceptional.
A panoramic view of our deck and back yard on early Wednesday morning.A view across our front yard.
As of this writing, we still have a bit of snow, or perhaps I should call it slush.
Writing Oh, I wish I could say I had started working on my novels, but alas, no. Instead I’ve been writing letters.
I may well be pissing in the wind, but given our current state of affairs, I have to do something … even if it’s just pissing in the wind. I am not limiting myself to only “my” Congressional Senators and Representative who are loyal to you-know-who. My attitude is that each Senator and Representative in Congress who is voting on bills that affect ALL Americans should listen to all Americans. I am being mindful to give praise when it’s due (hence the letters in the photo are to thank certain Florida Representatives for certain votes). But, yeah, when I see that a Democratic Senator voted for Kristi Noem, they’re going to hear from me.
So … letters and postcards for now. No novels.
Knitting Since I can knit or stitch while watching TV, I am doing that. No photos as yet. The shawl is finished but not yet blocked (i.e., washed). I signed up for a month-long knit-a-long which will start January 31. We are to knit a cardigan! One of my least favorite projects … lol. I’m hoping I can use up some of the stash that is threatening to break through my cedar chest. And maybe having a couple of Zoom sessions with a knitting expert will make the process less daunting.
Cats Thanks to the colder-than-normal temperatures the last few weeks, Raji has officially become a SnuggleBunny!
Raji getting close and personal with Greg while he watches TV.
I doubt that he will continue with this behavior as temperatures warm but we’re enjoying this closeness while we can. Wendy often sleeps with me, but she doesn’t cuddle. No, she just curls up in the middle of the bed and expects me to work around her.
Thank you for reading! Tell me truly: Am I pissing in the wind?
I’ve been a bit “out of it” lately due to world events and general procrastination. I keep meaning to get back into the swing of things so when I (finally) sat down to catch up with my online community, I came across this Lens-Artist Challenge is hosted by Leya. She encourages us to share what makes us smile. For some, smiles these days might be hard to come by so this is a particularly timely challenge.
What makes me smile? Here’s a few:
Nature
Whether it’s an Eastern Carpenter Bee getting up close and personal with Kay’s Pink Roses (photo featured above) …
Or the tell-tale sign of a raccoon visiting our campsite at night …
Or a swallowtail butterfly feasting on penta blooms …
Or a praying mantis praying that it is blending in …
Or an red-tailed hawk just hanging out in the ‘hood …
Or a momma gator and her baby.
Sometimes Art makes me smile …
Sonic Blooms, Seattle, Washington, 2014
From the exhibit: Created by Seattle-based artist Dan Corson in a collaboration between Pacific Science Center and Seattle City Light, these sun loving, harmonic blooms use regionally manufactured, custom solar panels to generate their own power. Each flower top contains 48 solar cells that produce 4.6 Wp (watts at peak production) for a total of 1,104 Wp for all 5 flowers.
The electricity generated will make the flowers dance with light through the evening and sing through the day, 365 days of the year. Sonic Bloom combines art and science to help educate about solar energy in the Pacific Northwest and inspire people to consider how they can incorporate renewable energy into their lives.
Especially funny signs or photos …
A bigger smile from me when they refer to knitting …
What makes me smile the most? Cats, always the cats …
Junior (RIP) and Maxine (RIP) staking out their territory on my husband. Wendy and Raji zonked out in the sun.
I hope you got some smiles out of my selection! Let me know what makes you smile.
If you want to participate in this Lens-Artists challenge, remember to tag with Lens-Artists and link to Ann-Christine’s original post.
Next week, Sofia will lead us from her beautiful site Photographias – be sure to visit on Saturday 30!
To all of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you have a wonderful time with family and friends. Despite current world events, we still have much to be grateful for. I know I am grateful for each one of you.
Woot! Power is back on. Now my electronic life resumes … charging batteries, checking internet service, resetting clocks, plugging in the kettle, turning on the light in my windowless bathroom, sitting now with my iPad typing away.
Now complacency can set in since Helene (for us) turned out to be a minor inconvenience. Maybe it would have been psychologically worse for us if we hadn’t prepared for the worst, but as far as life and limb, we are so near normal now that Helene seems like a bad dream.
Yesterday, the hummingbirds came back in force, and my husband had to scurry to get the feeders back up. The butterflies (mostly long-wing zebras but we did see one Monarch yesterday) are also back and hungry.
While I’m glad to have power again, I’ll miss the dark sky, the relative silence (generators and owls competing for our attention), and the slowing down of life, the opportunity to “make do” and learn what I can live without.
Thanks to everyone for your good wishes!
Please keep in the mind all those who were hit harder by Helene than we were. We were saved by Helene tilting east, but that meant that others were not so lucky. Areas that were hit worse include Taylor County which has suffered through three hurricanes in the last two years.
It is my honor to be part of Elizabeth (Liz) Gauffreau’s blog tour for her latest poetry collection, Simple Pleasures: Haiku from the Place Just Right. Liz is a wonderful poet, storyteller, book reviewer, and blogging friend. If you don’t already subscribe to her blog at lizgauffreau.com, please do so now! We’ll wait.
Okay, now that you’re back, let’s continue with the tour!
Today Liz shares photos of ruins in Pawtuckaway State Park as well as a bit of the area’s fascinating history.
Without further adieu, here’s Liz!
Thank you, Marie, for hosting me on my blog tour for Simple Pleasures: Haiku from the Place Just Right! For today’s tour stop, I’m sharing photos from a set of ruins in Pawtuckaway State Park, which is a hop, skip, and a jump from our house in Nottingham. These ruins provide the larger context for one of the poems in Simple Pleasures.
The Pawtuckaway region was originally inhabited by indigenous peoples, the Pennacook, a division of the Algonquin Natives. The Pennacook were hunter gathers, who referred to Pawtuckaway as the land of “sticks and stones” because it wouldn’t support crops. When European settlers moved in, they thought they knew better. They cleared the land of trees; built houses, barns, and stone walls; and planted crops. However, the farms were not profitable because—wait for it—the land wouldn’t support crops. The early settlers’ descendants finally abandoned their farms at the end of the 19th century and joined the westward expansion. (Source: https://blog.nhstateparks.org/tucked-away-in-pawtuckaway/)
Walking along the trail that goes around Pawtuckaway Lake, we come upon the last signs of those abandoned farms: derelict stone walls and cellar holes.
The glacier strikes again! This so-called boulder field was created 18,000 years ago when a mile-high glacier slowly moved through the area, picked up boulders from a nearby mountain and deposited them here. (Source: https://blog.nhstateparks.org/tucked-away-in-pawtuckaway)
Author Biography
Elizabeth Gauffreau writes fiction and poetry with a strong connection to family and place. Her work has been widely published in literary magazines, as well as several themed anthologies. Her short story “Henrietta’s Saving Grace” was awarded the 2022 Ben Nyberg prize for fiction by Choeofpleirn Press.
She has published a novel, Telling Sonny, and a collection of photopoetry, Grief Songs: Poems of Love & Remembrance. She is currently working on a novel, The Weight of Snow and Regret, based on the closing of the last poor farm in Vermont in 1968.
Liz’s professional background is in nontraditional higher education, including academic advising, classroom and online teaching, curriculum development, and program administration. She received the Granite State College Distinguished Faculty Award for Excellence in Teaching in 2018. Liz lives in Nottingham, New Hampshire with her husband. Find her online at https://lizgauffreau.com.
Reading this collection was like forest bathing, the photos of Liz’s favorite outdoor places filled with green mountains, blue lakes, red and yellow leaves, gray rocks, white trees, and pink-tinted and fiery sunsets. And yet the photo and haiku that stirred my soul the most was that of the snow-covered pond with a border of dark trees in the background.
the pond in winter windswept snow, crystalline sky frigid air, silence
I spent the first 21 years of my life in upstate New York, among farms just northeast of Albany. Although I often say that fall was my favorite season, sometimes I miss winter more, especially the silence of winter.
Simple Pleasures is a wonderful pairing of photographs and poetry. You’ll want to keep this book by your bedside or writing desk for when you want to enjoy a simple pleasure or to be inspired.
A Gulf Fritillary chrysalis, from a few days ago. We didn’t get to see this guy emerge but we have had a lot of butterflies, including Gulf Fritillaries, in our garden so far this season.
Photo taken about 10 years ago when Maxine (on the left) and Junior (on the right) were still indoor-outdoor kitties and what is now our garden was filled with skinny pine trees.
This week’s Lens-Artist Challenge is hosted by Ritva who encourages us to consider what is behind the subjects of our photography.
Whether it’s a serene landscape, a bustling city street, or a simple studio backdrop, the background influences the mood and message of the image.
I drifted back several years as I looked for photos that I thought would best meet this week’s challenge. As Ritva skillfully shows, there are seemingly endless ways in which background can enhance or even be the subject of our lens.
The next few images were taken in October 2013 during a visit to my childhood home. The light from the setting sun drew my eye to trees that, at any other time, would simply be background, not a focus of my lens.
In the next photo, the white house (on the right) was my childhood home; the other, a house where I spent an inordinate amount of time watching TV with the grandfatherly man who lived there. Both houses are now gone, demolished because of a flood. You can’t see in this photo, but both houses had “Condemned” and “No Trepassing” signs on them.
While it looks like the foreground in the above photo is a wide expanse of lawn, it is in fact a field. When I was a teenager, I worked summers at a cafeteria. On Sundays I worked 7 am to 3 pm, and when I started my mother’s car on Sunday morning, dozens of bunnies jumped at the sound and hopped around in a panic. It was a great way to start my day.
Sometimes to make a subject stand out, you need to add background, like my husband’s hand. I credit Golden Silk spiders with helping me (mostly) get over my spider phobia. While these spiders are quite large, they are also shy and more likely to skittle away from you than toward you.
I feel like I’m digressing from Ritva’s challenge because I seem to be focused on backgrounds that are the subject of my lens. Case in point: Sunrise over a fishing pier at Safety Harbor, Florida.
No, wait … here’s one where a background of neutral colors helps to make my pink yoga mat pop (never mind the blue urn at the bottom corner trying to steal the show). This was taken in August 2017, at an Airbnb in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Here’s an example of an almost monochromatic photo. From a distance, I might not have spotted the alligator given how well it was blending in with the water and lily pads.
Finally, this post would not be complete without a photo or two of a dragonfly. My husband has placed several bamboo poles around our house, and the dragonflies love using them as hunting perches.
Besides attracting dragon- and damselflies, the poles have enabled me to photograph these delightful insects at my leisure. Yes, they fly off frequently to snatch a snack, but they just as quickly come back to the pole.
In the following photo, I blurred the background so I would capture more detail of the dragonfly.
Many thanks to Donna of Wind Kisses who challenged us to think about and illustrate our conceptions of “Connections.” The responses to her challenge were wonderful and demonstrated just how connected we are to each other and to nature.
Please check out Ritva’s post for inspiration for this week’s challenge. If you choose to participate, don’t forget to use the “Lens-Artists” tag so you can be found in the Reader.
Next week, Egídio will be our host. Check in with him at Through Brazilian Eyes on Saturday at 12 noon (EDT in the USA). Please see this page to learn more about the Lens-Artists Challenge and its history.
Without further adieu, I give you Raji and his impersonation of a Meerkat.
This week Donna from Wind Kisses challenges us to find connections using photographs.
Let’s photograph connections this week. Are you interested in the intricacy of mosaic art, or how the strings of a marionette bring it to life? How about railroads, rivers and bridges connecting spaces and places? Personally, I can’t have bacon without eggs, or paper without a pen. And it is impossible to ignore interactions of people connecting with each other and the world around them.
I’ve thought long and hard about this challenge, and I might (I said, might) step outside my comfort zone to meet it. Donna’s post is truly inspiring, expanding the idea of connections beyond what I usually consider the word to mean. And that’s a good thing.
Of course, I see connections in Nature, such as how my (finally) blooming Indian Blanket plant follows the rotation of the sun.
Every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon, I rotate the pot wherein this plant currently resides. It sits on my deck, and I see it through my window while I’m sitting at my desk working. The plant keeps me connected to the outside world just by being available to me visually.
Now, this might sound strange, but I feel connected to myself when I work with fiber, whether it be knitting or weaving. When I was about 9 or 10, I taught myself (not very well) to knit, and so knitting is part of who I am. I’ve used my knitting to connect me to others. Weaving came to me later in life at a private college where I was floundering. I was very unhappy at that college until I signed up for a weaving course. Long story short: the class had such an impact on me that I elected to take my tuition money and buy a loom rather than continue at the college.
I wove a few things but not very well and eventually sold my loom to a friend. Fast-forward a few decades and I yearned to weave again so I bought a modest 20-inch rigid heddle loom. My first project:
I wove this scarf with wool and alpaca yarns meant for knitting socks. Needless to say, weaving the scarf went a lot faster than knitting socks would have. Still, I made mistakes, wasted a bunch of yarn, but … I wear it. I love it. And the process itself connected me all the way back–40-some years–to when I first learned to weave.
I try to connect myself to the environment by upcycling and recycling. From a poster on a Facebook group I was in, I got the idea to cut up all our old t-shirts. Some were so worn that I knew they would only end up in a landfill if I gave them to Goodwill. I used a rotary cutter to slice through the shirts, tied the ends together, and then rolled the strips into balls. A weaving project was born.
I wove the above with no real end in mind. I just wanted to practice weaving. At worst, whatever I made could be used as a cat blanket. Then I wove another piece, only this time I untied the strips as I went, making the weaving process more meditative, connecting more closely with the threads and fabric.
This work I do with my hands often connects me to other people. I can’t wear all the scarves, shawls, socks, and potholders that I make. Sometimes I work with a special person in mind.
I knitted this blanket (above) for my mom. She’s no longer here and the blanket is with someone else now, but I still remember her saying that she loved it.
Connections.
I grew up among women. My mom and my two sisters, my aunts. My uncles were around but disinterested in a pouty-faced little kid.
Out of the seven sisters, only one is left, my Aunt Orvetta, the blonde in the middle. My mother sits to my aunt’s right. I look at photos like this and pine for the days when connections could be made with a letter or a phone call or a visit. Now the connections are made through memory.
I am so grateful for how photography, over so many years, has helped me stay connected to my family. So many of them have died, but when I see photos like the one above, I can almost hear their laughter.
Many thanks to Donna for this thoughtful and expansive challenge. If you choose to participate in this week’s challenge, take Donna’s words to heart:
Have you ever thought about how photography connects the world? Nobody sees the world exactly the same way you see it, and our impressions are as unique we are. How you interpret this week’s challenge is up to you.
Please include the Lens-Artists tag and/or link in the comments so we can find you.
Also, thanks to John for last week’s challenge, AI. What fun that was! Participating in John’s challenge helped me feel a bit less intimidated by AI, and I really enjoyed the contributions and conversations around it.
Ritva will host next week’s challenge starting Saturday 12:00 EST. Visit her site and get ready to be inspired.
Interested in knowing more about the Lens-Artists challenge? Click here for more information.
Marie at 1 Write Way 