the view from here

We had been following narrow gravel roads for an indefinite, but decidedly long, amount of time, seemingly getting closer to pretty much nowhere. As such, we were beginning to wonder about the effectiveness of the climbing guide book's directions, with its striking lack of street names, with directives like "follow the first paved road to the right until you reach a sharp curve of gravel road that becomes a rough dirt road, occasionally impassible, depending upon the time of year . . ." I kept having the urge to console my trusty Toyota and apologize for subjecting her to such treatment.
But then as we rounded one bend I gasped and blurted, "Stop, please!" Understandably perplexed, J did so and waited while I fumbled for my camera and hopped out, and then on top of, the car [for prime viewing purposes]. This, then, is the documentation of the day's climbing adventure, as I'm afraid I did not snap any while scaling the cliffs . . . hopefully the loveliness of this sight will suffice for the snapshot of the day :-)

the scolder's secret

Bathtime!, I call out from upstairs, in my habitual sing-song tone--Lego time's up: chop, chop!
Then I slip into the hallway, folding a Spiderman pajama top and pretending not to be waiting . . . listening for the patter of little running feet . . . watching for the white flash of a little bare bum.
Rinsing the suds out of his blond curls, I "remind" him to put his dirty clothes in the hamper, where he knows they go . . .
What I don't tell him is that I love every second that I spend picking up those tightly rolled jerseys and strewn-about socks. I smile each time I see that forgetfulness, and the sight of a rapidly shed pair of shorts, knickers still propped up inside, more lovely to me than a Mona Lisa smile.

dreamy conversations

As I have indicated, my seven-year-old charge has quite an intriguing thought life, as children so often do. So perhaps it should come as no surprise that his dream life is also an interesting one--certainly more so than mine at the moment. And as such, I have grown to look forward to those unscripted conversations that come when we are not in the middle of school preparations, bedtime routines, mealtimes, and the like.
Mind you, I do not always have the privilege of such thoughtful insights: sibling relationships being as they are, such conversations are much more likely to occur when big sister is not with us--like this evening . . .
We were heading to the bus drop off, discussing the odd nature of the rain that had been falling in fits and starts all day. Then T launched into the topic of his dreams: one in particular. In this dream, he discovered a new talent for turning pencils into wands. Each pencil that he picked up turned into a different wand. I asked if they each had different spells but he said that no, they did not. He, however, was able to tell all manner of different spells, no matter which wand he held. Because, of course, he was the one with the magic skills, not those pencils: didn't I know pencils couldn't cast spells?
Yes, of course--silly me :-)

cloudy conversations

My 7-year-old charge and I had the exquisite delight of a 4-hour marathon at the creative children's museum today. Returning home, we spent a portion of the drive in that contented sort of quiet that follows such a happy expenditure of energy. Revealing his own train of silent thought, T interrupted the reverie to note that he had just spotted "one of those spiny-backed dinosaurs--but without a head--made out of clouds." I looked up through the open car top long enough to affirm his assertion, prompting a few other mentions of cloud creatures. He then launched a new series for our conversation: a series of questions that I dutifully responded to after considerable contemplation for each . . .
"What would you do if it started raining . . .
houses? [I would click my heels and say 'there's no place like home']
street signs? [I would get even more lost than is my general tendency]
cars? [I would drive until I felt almost as classy as I currently do in my temporary ride--a convertible VW]
asteroids? [I would dig a hole and burrow for cover]
kittens? [I would adopt 20]
puppies? [I would adopt 1, and name it Kiwi Jr]
. . . And so on. All in all, I decided that T's inner thought life at the time was
considerably more interesting than my own, which was pulled aways from ponderings as
to what I could quickly prepare as a passably edible dinner for us. Yes, I think children have infinitely more intriguing thought lives than those of us on the more old and crotchety end of life :-)

as nature intended

I have developed a bit of an obsession with the changing colors . . . perhaps easily attributable to this being my first autumn in New England? As such, I was telling Mom this morning that I have been longing to snag a bit of photo-taking time for myself, in the middle of a rather hectic Fall season thus far. So this afternoon, once I had returned from the airport drop-off, I did just that. And now I am unapologetically pleased with the [untouched, edit-wise] resulting shot :-)

not just for boys

Though I've wanted to for some time now, it was not until tonight that I sat in on my stepdad's weekly Kung Fu lesson. Because of a passion for the sport and a love for teaching, he has spent the past year sharing his black belt skills with a few children and their parents. While the basement lighting leaves much to be desired for photographic purposes, I thought this "action shot" illustrated, decently at least, his intensity of dedication. It also, incidentally, has the perk of showing off in the background one of his favorite big kid toys, which I intend to try my hand at as soon as possible :-)

what's the buzz?

This, disconcerting as the thought may be, is a foot-long hornet's nest that has been living in the front yard of my French students' home. Since discovering it approximately a month ago, the girls' parents have been debating how exactly to undergo the eviction process without risking any lives or limbs in the process. Some of the possibilities included waking in the coldest hour of the night to startle them with a strong whack. They would have a trash bag ready to whisk the entire nest into the freezer--this option would have the benefit of extermination plus preservation, for future posterity. But their mother nixed this idea, deciding that her small freezer was not suited to a hornet's home nestled between the popsicles and frozen peas. So they have just completed round 3 of super-spraying and, seeing no live creatures for the past few days, an intended chopping down this evening. I have entertained the thought of joining in on the fun . . .

picking a peck

I actually snapped this shot yesterday, as I admired the bountiful harvest of my apple-picking neighbor. But it seemed rather fitting to share it with you all today, considering the fact that we have just entered the month in which the "harvest" season begins. He admitted to me that he actually did not know what variety these are: the family has always simply titled them "snack apples," referring to their small size, sweet taste and, I would add, picture-perfect appearance :-)

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].

in the skin

As promised in my "career possibility" post, here is a shot of our newest reptilian addition to the family. I have been watching for him in vain for some time now, but tonight I guess he decided he wanted to show off for company . . . so as we headed out for our post-dinner stroll, we found him slithering along on his own evening jaunt.

it's a bird: it's a . . . lily?

While out kayaking today, we noticed a swan . . . and then realized that, in fact, there are no swans on this lake. It was actually a lily that rather strikingly resembled one: don't you agree?

alight a lily

Sometimes it's worth it to take a risk. Had I been listening to my inner voice of prudence this afternoon, for instance, I would certainly never have carted my camera into the kayak with me: what novice paddler in her right mind would take such a valuable creative tool into the middle in a lake? But I just could not shake the nagging itch to take a water photo shoot.
And had I not done so, I would have never paddled towards the brilliant burst of bluish-purple of a lily sitting pretty in its pad. I would then have missed the sight, upon nearing the flower, of a flurry of dragonflies, perfectly matching its hue as they lit upon the neighboring leaves.

that was then . . .

So remember that farm shot from June 20 (["in the [farming] flesh)? Today I was there at that farm again, and was struck by how obvious the passage of time is, there in the gardens. I took this photo to illustrate that fact, as this similarly lovely female farmer is in the same position, location-wise, as was the friend in the June post. How does your garden grow? Quite remarkably, I dare say!