From the Weekend: Fall Lingers

My son showed me how the slanting light of the setting sun was lighting up the tops of the trees. I handed him the camera.

June: Favourites Series continues

Sorry I am falling behind with these.

June is the end of the school year: and so it is awards season. My son achieved an average between 80 and 89 per cent his first year in high school. I missed the moment they shook his hand, so all I've got is lousy picture of him on stage with the sea of girls.

One of the bet things about summer--and June in particular is being able to visit outside. (Thank heavens, inside is a disaster!) Here's my Mom and my nephew in our backyard.

Last night, I saw this shadow perpendicular to my front door on the wall of my hallway. So ephemeral. This shadow may never be here again or it may come again tonight. But, its opportunity to be here at all occurs only briefly and only in June.

Slant

Looking west north west from the front step. 

Whenever I see it, it always reminds me of the Emily Dickinson poem:

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind —

New Clothes

This is so silly!

But summer is my favourite wardrobe season--always has been, ever since I was a teenager and realisd that summer's shirts and shorts were brighter (and cheaper!) than fall's sweaters and slacks.

I bought myself this sweet little top and culotte. I bought a lot.

Sunset

In winter, sunset comes cold--and early. Usually while cooking dinner, or eating it. I never seem to get outside to see it.

I caught this one at 10pm coming out of Walmart.

I haven't started taking these for granted, yet.

The Rain

.....falls gently on the pane.

Have I mentioned the rain we're having?

When this house was built in 1948, there were still shortages from the war--especially in lumber. As a result, the houses in our neighbourhood have no eaves. Raindrops often scatter themselves across the glass.

It seems a fitting photo to commemorate D-Day, the landing of Allied forces on the beaches of Normandy. My father-in-law stayed in London, reading maps, apparently.

Dappled Delight

I've tried to capture this before.

Because of our latitude, the sun swings around. Right now, when the sun shines, it catches a portion of my bedroom wall every morning around seven.

I sleep right there. And I open my eyes and see dappled light.

It is a delight.

Blossoms

Is it any wonder brides want to be married in June?

I think these are crab apples.

Proper apples don't grow here: our summer is too short.

June: Late Evening Walks

In June, at this latitude, one of my favourite things is the light of the lengthening days.

Walking the dog at 8:45 pm.

June: A Series

June is my favourite month.

It is difficult to describe what June means to me. It is summer, yes, but not quite, not quite yet, here above the 54th parallel. Spring is very nearly over, but not quite. A few trees haven't yet quit their brilliant chartreuse halos.

I thought I might try and capture this month one day at a time for you: one photo at a time.

We've had a lot of rain. How much rain? Enough for a mushroom to begin growing out of our picnic table!

The lilacs have finally arrived. I love lilacs. I want more. (I took this while it was raining.)


Confession: I took both these photos today, as I only just thought of it!

Story of a Gallery Wall, Part Deux

Before, before.

from June 2012

Pretty but vapid.

After the Tchotchke Challenge in June, I rearranged the living room and "floated" the couch.

That left the gallery wall looking like this:

I didn't do anything right away, because I wasn't sure if things were going to stay this way or not.

One of the things I realised during the Tchotchke challenge is that I wanted more meaning in my home. I have long tried to live according to the strict interpretation of Morris's maxim; that is, I like my things not merely beautiful, but useful, too. Wanting both beauty and now, meaning, seemed a natural evolution.

In July, it seemed, the stars aligned.

Both IKEA and my photo developer had a sale in the same week. Frames were 50% off and 8x10's were going for 40% off. I decided that I would take down the pretty crap, make the wall more meaningful and get vacation photos that I'd taken up onto the wall.

I bought the frames (VIRSERUM (black) and RIBBA (black and brown))  and worked on the photos feverishly for two evenings. On the third, I went to upload them for developing-- and discovered the sale was over.

I'd already started mucking with the wall, though.

I moved the couch back against this wall when I put down the newly cleaned carpet.
July to December 2013

I have been checking every week ever since.

Last week, I found out that the 8x10's were on sale again and so I started to play. I found some photos I'd thought I'd lost from a trip we took out east five years ago. That was good.

I decided I would mix my photos with paintings I found at Value Village (and other places). I traced each frame onto stiff paper and arranged them on the wall.

Many times.

This is only a small sample. If I counted right, I made eleven discrete arrangements.  Moving paper is easy.

Here's where I started:

 I quickly decided I wanted to make it bigger and go from one lamp to the other.

I experimented with making a straight horizontal line through the composition.

 

I decided I wanted it as random and as jagged as possible.

It occurred to me, as I studied the pictures I took of each arrangement, that, really, a good number of them "would do." I almost lost my way completely and scurried over to my Pinterest board to get back on track. Even after I looked at many arrangements I liked, it was clear to me there was no "one" right way to do it. I did have one or two doosies along the way, though.

Those coloured bits on the brown paper are small copies of the photos I sent for developing. The squares without pictures represent paintings.

 But, fortunately, balance can be achieved in many ways.

It took me more than a couple of days, working here and there. Finally, on Sunday, with my daughter's input, I got it done.

It changed again, of course.

That's my helper there on the sofa. She made an excellent argument for leaving off the plates (the round bits in the pictures above.)

 

The before and after:
(I did not move the wall hanging.)

 



One more:

I love the strength of it.

Linking to Work It Wednesday at Happy Housie.



Photo-A-Day, Days 2 thru 7

For Day 1, go here.

Day 2: Father

(soc)

Day 3: Far Away

Day 4: In my Postbox/mailbox

Day 5: Bright

Day 6: Every Day

Day 7: Natural

(soc)

#FMSphotoaday

Menus and Today's Photo

Being able to post my monthly menu means not only did I get it done (whew), but it also means I have successfully installed the drivers for the printer and scanner onto the new laptop. Go me!

 

Today's photo prompt is "something far away."

 

 



Being able to ride my bike seems very fay away.

#FMSphotoaday

Photo a Day

I tried this before and it didn't stick: I'm hoping it'll work out better this time!

The prompts are from FatMumSlim, an Australian Blogger.

I decided to do a "serious" self-portrait for today's prompt. I don't have many nice pictures of me (there's a reason for that!) so I thought I'd make the effort and create one.

Still. I just do not like the way I look these days. I'm overdue for a trim and I have no idea how to apply make-up! My fat doesn't help--nor does my weird sort of knobby-under-the-skin forehead.

Anyway:

Cheers.
#FMSphotoaday

Grace Note: Carnations in the Foyer

I've been in something of a funk lately. I don't like to post when I'm in a funk: I tend to whine.

So, instead, I bring you this bit of prettiness, via Pic Monkey.

Grace Note: Sweet Sleep

This little series is all about capturing beauty in the midst of real life. I took this at about 7:30 this morning.

It's easily my favourite place in the house. I love to sleep, especially in the sun (call me a cat) and my bed feels delicious.

Update: I just found pic monkey--and played around with the photo a bit. This could be a huge time suck!

Grace Notes

Back when I was a new wife and mother, I also contemplated a career change: from journalism to interior decorating. In pusuit of my new goal, I stumbled upon the inestimable interior designer and author Alexandra Stoddard in my travels through the book stacks at the local library.

One of her suggestions was to pop a vase of flowers in your fridge.

Say what?

Imagine opening your fridge and seeing it. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

"Grace notes," Stoddard defines further in a book of the same name,

remind us that it is ofetn the little things, the small revelations, that make a great deal of difference in handling dissappointment, frustration and loss. They help us celebrate moments of joy by enabling us to unearth the underlying goodness of things.

Well, OK.

For me, grace notes can simply be a little spot of beauty I find to share in the normal drudgery of the day to day.

The May Day Tree

I am grateful for these leaves.

This branch is part of our dying May Day tree. It's not the English May Day tree, but prunus pradus, a kind of chokecherry.

It is called the May Day tree because it tends to bloom around May day (Queen Victoria's birthday, May 24th). It also tends to become diseased when it get old, as ours is.

That's our bedroom window on the second floor. I love this tree. I'm grateful to wake up to it every morning.

(This post is part of an ongoing series for May called the Photographic Gratitude Project. Explained, here)

Duty

Day 3 of the Photographic Gratitude Project is "happiness."

Remember that it is nothing to do your duty, that is demanded of you and is no more meritorious than to wash your hands when they are dirty; the only thing that counts is the love of duty; when love and duty are one, then grace is in you and you will enjoy a happiness which passes all understanding.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965), The Painted Veil, 1925 (italics mine)

This has become my duty:

Every two to three days, the counter is cleared (the bread is kneaded 3x every ten minutes for ten seconds), the oven is engaged (the only draft free spot warm enough for the bread to rise is in the oven with the light on), and I know that if I start the bread by noon, we can have bread with our supper. (The entire process takes three hours.)

I wouldn't do it if I didn't enjoy it, but I'm glad I do. I might have stopped if the kids hadn't come round to liking it as toast and jam. I love it, too.

Home baked bread makes me happy.

The Date

This is for Day 2 of the Gratitude Photography project: a smile.

We went window shopping at Crate and Barrel. What a happy, colourful, fun place.

We sat on a chartreuse sofa with beautiful lines (we both agreed it had beautiful lines) and discussed the recent senate election (only in Alberta). We looked at a fabulous coffee table made out of reclaimed wood. We peaked at the price of a Marmiekko duvet (waaay out of our current price range), fell in love with a pillow or two and exclaimed over the dish ware in great colours and the plates with uneven edges.

We were there over half an hour. It was practically a date.

And then I said, "let's go, before the excitement of all this stuff makes me sad we can't have any of it."

Because, you know what?

I am profoundly grateful for this smile.

This smile, given while still in his work boots because he had an hour and a quarter of over time. This smile, offerred after a long day's work, just because I asked. This smile, because we're finally paying off all those impulsive purchases I made to compensate for the absence of any and all dates.