Saving graces

(Day lily at Longwood Gardens. December 2007. © Robin)

I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become … but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress.

~ May Sarton

White, white, white

(Nature’s holiday decorations. December 2007. © Robin)

Everything is equal in the snow: all trees, all lawns, all streets, all rooftops, all cars. Everything is white, white, white, as far as you can see. Covered by snow, the well-kept and neglected lawns look the same. The snow hides the shiny newness of a just-bought car as effectively as it does the rust and dents of a ten-year-old one. Everything looks clean and fresh and unmarred by time or use. Snow, like the silent death it counterfeits, is a great leveler.

~ Adrienne Ivey

It started snowing again while we slept last night. The snow is still coming down, quite heavily, as the morning grows old.

(Blizzard. December 2007. © Robin)

This would be a good day to learn how to snowshoe.

(The disappearing pond. December 2007.  © Robin)

Circus Weekend

It was an unusual weekend. This will be an unusual post for Bountiful Healing.

My oldest son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter (the Exquisite Emma) came for a visit this weekend.

Normally when they come for a visit we go out and do something that might appeal to a 2-year-old girl. The zoo, the county fair, and in the case of this weekend, the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.

Also normally, during the course of the weekend I take about 300 photos of Emma, out of which I get about 8-10 great shots. Emma is a wonderful subject and very photogenic, but she’s a 2-year-old who is almost constantly in motion. Plus I prefer candid shots over the posed variety. Posing has its moments and its purposes, but the best photographs are usually candid shots. Occasionally (twice so far) I put together a little booklet for Emma with photos from the weekend. The first booklet was A Visit to the Zoo where there were shots of the animals as well as Emma and her parents. The second was Emma Goes to the County Fair, again with shots of the animals as well as Emma, her parents, and Grandpa and me (<–Grandma).

Taking that many photos means I spend a lot of time following Emma around as if she’s Miss Hollywood with me playing the role of the paparazzi constantly snapping and flashing. Taking that many photos also means I’m not really spending good quality time with Emma.

On Friday our youngest son left for a geology field trip in West Virginia. It involved camping, hiking, and mapping some mountains. Because it is the time of year for leaf-peeping(TM), he asked if he could borrow my camera for the trip.

The idea of loaning out my camera for the entire weekend was not the least bit appealing to me. I was worried my son would lose the camera or break it as he was climbing around on some mountain. I already lost the lens cap on our last great hiking adventure. It broke off the strap and popped off the lens during a rough stretch of hiking when I was paying more attention to my footing and my own safety than that of the camera. I haven’t replaced it yet which meant another worry.

But the main thing was that I’ve gotten so used to carrying the camera around that it’s almost become a part of me.

Who knew that taking photographs could become so addictive?

Not that it’s a bad addiction to have. Realizing that I didn’t want to let go of the camera for even a few days was a sure sign that I needed to do it.

So, I’ve been without a camera all weekend. I don’t have one photograph taken by me of Emma’s first experience with the circus. I don’t have one shot (taken by me) of the incredibly colorful and entertaining circus clowns or other acts. There will be no Emma Goes to the Circus book from this weekend. Or Emma Meets Izzy & Bella (the kittens).

I briefly (and vocally) lamented the fact that I was sans camera when we arrived at the Q to find that for most of the hour prior to the show they opened up the floor (or rings, since this is a circus) to the audience so they can interact with the performers, get autographs, take pictures, etc. I missed many up close and personal photo ops.

We had fantastic seats. I missed many more up close and personal photo opportunities. Emma was enthralled. I could have taken a lot of good shots of the look of wonder on her face as the trapeze artists went flying through the air or the smiles when Bello was performing. I missed a few good photos of Bello, for that matter.

Even so, I don’t regret the decision to spend a weekend without the camera hanging around my neck. It was a good decision with ultimately good consequences.

Main lesson learned from the experience: I enjoyed being in the moment rather than trying to capture and save the moment.

Instead of photos, I have a weekend filled with playtime, tickles, hugs, kisses, giggles, and lots of laughter, all shared with Emma. Instead of photos, I watched the circus performances and the various looks on Emma’s face. Instead of photos, I participated in the experiences of the weekend. Instead of photos, I have the gift of time spent with some of the people I love most in this world.

So, in case you’re still wondering what it is, the unusual thing about this post is: the lack of photos.

It might well be my best post yet, as far as I’m concerned.

Not to worry, though. Regular posting of photographs will resume tomorrow.

Showing you mine

Bibliomom recently left me a comment that was essentially a challenge of “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

So, here’s mine:

It’s one of many I’ve collected over the years. Here is an inside view:

The pen likes to ham it up and insisted on being included in the photo.

Some of you may be wondering what this is all about. Amuirin asked me where I get my quotes. I replied that I keep a journal of quotes, writing things in whenever I come across something that I like and/or might like to read again or refer to later. Bibliomom commented that she has a quote journal too, and said she’d show me hers if I’d show her mine.

Don’t you feel as though you just circled back to the beginning of this post?

The journal pictured is one of several. I’ve been keeping this sort of journal for quite a few years and have managed to fill up a few books. Sometimes I paste in photos or things I’ve torn out of a magazine or newspaper, but mostly I copy in quotes from books or a variety of other sources.

I also keep a personal (handwritten) journal, but I don’t have a collection of them because I’ve been known to burn them as a way of transitioning from one year to the next. There are some years I’d prefer to forget. Burning the journals doesn’t make me forget, but it is cathartic. All that bad energy turned to smoke and ash.

I didn’t have the time or a good place to artistically or prettily arrange the journal photos this morning. I’ve been so busy with my other masterpieces:

Pickling peppers. Lots and lots and lots of peppers.

With all the pickling, canning, and freezing going on around here, the rest of the house is a royal mess. Finding a dust-free, clutter-free surface wasn’t easy. The ottoman in the living room volunteered. And even that could use a quick vacuuming to rid it of the little kitten hairs.

I’m going to try to remedy the messy house situation today. M and I will be going to the market again tomorrow and that may mean another few days (or week) of food preservation. I figure I should grab hold of this opportunity to clean house while I can.

Not that I’m terribly worried about it. The harvest will be over soon, and winter will make its way here. There will be plenty of time to clean, organize, and rearrange in the coming months.

Still, I would like to give it a good Autumn cleaning before we close up the house to protect ourselves from the cold. We may be having summer-like weather this week, but I’m not going to let that fool me. I know the ways of northeast Ohio. Once we enter the month of October, snow could arrive any day.

I’ll leave you with this morning’s view of the pond:

(This just reminds me of more work: See those weeds growing around the edges? I’ll be out there later today with a huge rake, pulling them out of the water. We’ve found it’s more effective if we pull them by hand — or by rake — than spraying them. It’s hard work, too. Builds muscle. And character, so I’m told.)

Think Pink

(Raindrops on pink petunias. 2007)

More pink here, if you please. ~ Franz Liszt

I hadn’t intended to make pink the next color in the color series, but I was reminded via email that the Race for the Cure in Cleveland is coming up soon. It usually takes place in October, but they moved it to mid-September this year. I suspect that’s because it’s been cold, rainy and/or snowy, and windy on race day over the past few years. There’s a better chance for good weather (no snow) in mid-September.

M and I usually participate in the 5k Race for the Cure. We won’t be doing it this year because we’ll be heading back east that weekend to pick up the rest of our stuff (finish the move home), and have one more visit with family and friends before we get completely settled back into the routines of life, work, and home.

In addition to the Race for the Cure, the color pink reminds me of spring, little girls, cotton candy, bubble gum and the London Financial Times (the pages are a stand-out shade of pink (salmon) that I found odd when I first saw the Financial Times while riding the Tube because I never would have associated pink with financial news).

(Spring blossoms. 2007)

Family

(My lovely niece. Photo by Robin. July 2007)

Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future.

~ Gail Lumet Buckley

Green, green grass

Kermit may have been on to something when he sang about how it’s not easy being green. Finding green is easy enough.

(Grass on the hill. 2006)

(A green day on the Brandywine. 2007)

Purple Craze

(Raindrops on a flower petal. Photo by Robin. 2007)

My one and only color request is for the color purple.

I thought purple would be easy because it just so happens purple is my favorite color. That should mean that I have lots and lots of photos of purple. Right?

Wrong. Purple is rarer than I thought. It’s not that I can’t find it anywhere, but it’s not nearly as abundant in life as the greens, reds, yellows, blues, and browns. Even the grays put in more appearances than purple. Perhaps that’s what makes it so special — its rarity.

(Lilacs. Photo by Robin. 2007)

A touch of gray/grey

(Birds at the Cleveland Zoo. Photo by Robin. 2007)

Being an American, I’m going to use the spelling I grew up with: Gray. It’s the American English variant of grey and one that I’m used to. I find it interesting that the spellchecker keeps underlining grey as if it’s spelled wrong. You can tell an American programmed it.

Gray has been described as an elegant neutral color. It’s conservative, cool, and is sometimes seen as cloudy or gloomy. In my description of The Blues I wrote that I thought the blues should be called the grays because that’s how depression feels to me: Gray.

(Storm clouds, getting ready to weep. Photo by Robin. 2007)

Gray, like black, is often used as a color of mourning. It reminds me of the mourning dove, who happens to be a gray bird, and its plaintive song.

Gray is the color of sorrow.

(Gray day in the Bogs. Photo by Robin. 2006)

In the corporate world, gray suits are almost standard issue uniforms. Dark or charcoal gray is considered sophisticated and mysterious, whereas lighter grays are somewhat similar to white. Gray is conservative and old-school.

(Note about format: I know my posts, especially the color series, are heavy on photos and that makes for slow going when it comes to loading if you don’t have a speedy internet connection. I’ve decided to try using the “more” feature. So, you know, click on that blue stuff down there that says “Continue reading A touch of gray/grey” to continue reading this post. Some of my readers are savvy enough to know that, but I know of one or two who might need a little help, being fairly new to the internet, blogging and all that jazz. And for those who care, I added links to the color series on the sidebar.)

The Blues

(Blue Mummer. Photo by Robin. 2007)

I’d venture to guess we’ve all had them at one time or another: The Blues. I was curious as to where the term came from because usually when I have the blues it’s more like the grays, lacking in color and oomph. It seems that in English we call it the blues because blue is related to rain and rain was considered the tears of the gods (or God/dess, as the case may be).

I love the color blue in all it’s shades. It is not my favorite color, but it is an extremely close second.

(Hydrangea. Photo by Robin. June 2007)