the summer that almost wasn't

Last I checked, my calendar still read "August." And last I knew, August was considered to be rather strongly positioned in the summertime. As such, there has been a twinge of sadness to my recent delight in the beauty: while passing the trees on my morning running route, I've seen the signs of what I have always thought to be the most lovely of all the seasons.
So today I decided to capture a sampling of these signs, carting my camera along for a bike ride along my normal route. This made for an oddly slow trek, gone about in fits and starts of camera-grabbing pit stops. During one of these pauses, a couple caught up with me for the 4th time as they enjoyed a leisurely family stroll; I told them that they could feel free to brag about how, with a stroller and a Baby Bjorn, they out-paced a solitary biker :-)
I also couldn't help but wonder where my tandem partner was--someone who could pedal me around as I snapped to my heart's content . . .

to catch a dragonfly

I saw such a pretty plethora of dragonflies while canoeing this afternoon that I was determined to capture them on film. Doing so proved to be decidedly more difficult than anticipated, however: each time that I thought I had paddled into a suitable position to pull out my camera, the wind would change direction, promptly blowing me directly on top of the poor little creatures I had intended to photograph. My fourth attempt finally worked, though, and I was able to snap this shot of the flitting lovelies.

here is the steeple . . .

As I enjoyed a post-rain stroll, I stopped to admire this church. It was photographically inspiring to me so, for what I thought was no particular reason, I snapped this shot. Shortly thereafter I described the spot to my dinner host, trying to be as descriptive as possible. There was no need, however, as she was quite familiar with the church: turns out she was married right there, 31 years ago.

doom

First I stopped to admire this sailboat, being a sucker for any worn, seaworthy vestibules. Then I chuckled at its rather foreboding name . . . is that why this particular vessel is now land-locked and sail-less?

from the mouth of a babe

The way I think about my mind is that it's like a little library in my brain. There's a little person that's like me in my brain. And if I forget what I'm going to say, then that means that the little person in my brain has just dropped something. So that's how I forget what I wanted to say.
This is the brilliant bit of insight that I just learned from my young friend Maggie. At the age of 6, she already astounds me with her intelligence, and that last comment is just one example of the ways she does so.
Now she is writing a story, and this is what we have so far:
THE CROCODILE
in a big, big, swamp, a big, big, crocodile lived. he was king of the swamp animals. he was a terrifying king.

is she real?

Thanks to one of today's passers-by, who asked if she could take a photo of the "living" statue, I can offer to you now a vignette of a day in the life of a statue :-)

being venus

This was my first official day as Sculpture Garden Attendant for the annual week-long art fair. As the only person there, for an all-day affair, I knew I was going to have to be creative in keeping myself occupied [being there to be available in case anyone was interested in a purchase meant no book-reading or leaving my post.
My first duty was to water all the plants, which took a good half hour with the multiple trips to the pond to refill the pitcher. While busying myself with this and, apparently, looking like I knew what I was doing, I was asked what belonged in the vacant spot of the garden. This being the first time I had noticed it, I was a tad bit embarrassed to have to admit that I did not know.
I assumed, however, that one of the intended works of art had not shown up, as this was a similarly mulched and flower surrounded round as those containing the other works of art.
But then it occurred to me that, clearly, I belonged in that spot: thus I proceeded to amuse myself for the remainder of the day by trying my "hand" at being a living sculpture.
Well, who knew: it seems I am relatively good at it, judging by the responses. I soon lost count of how many whispered comments I overheard along the line of "Is she real?". Others were less fooled, so I also ended up with numerous jokes about how there was no price on that one . . . this led to my easy reply that I was, of course, the most expensive piece in the garden. And as all the prices were quite high, they did not want to frighten people by listing such a cost.
The most fun I had, however, was with the children: if they were young enough to simply stare and wonder, I would try goofy tactics like sticking out my tongue at them when I caught their eyes. Once they knew I was "real," I would tell them that people under the age of 12 had a special privilege--that of requesting the next pose of the "statue." This led to some interesting poses to figure out logistically: a dragonfly, for instance. One youngster got so into his job that I finally had to cut him off and say that it was my turn to choose my next pose :-)
Tomorrow I will be back at my sculpture post, so we shall see what the new day brings . . .

fungus profusion

I seem to have developed a bit of an obsession with photographing mushrooms. In my own defense, I can blame it on some combination of the nature of my current work, my coworker's encouragement, and the sheer proliferation of various fungi in this area. As I lamented to my boss here, "All I see is mushrooms!" Here is one of them that I particularly liked, standing proud, if not tall [not quite 2 inches in height].