Me…from down under

Is it possible that I’m a dreamer?
Do I spend too much time with my head in the clouds?
Or my nose in the air?
Or my eyes on the sky?

Maybe, just maybe.

Because when I was getting photos together for Ailsa’s Travel Theme Challenge theme BELOW, I realized how much time I spend looking up and how lucky I am I haven’t fallen over and broken my nose!

But then again, perhaps it’s not so much dreaming [though that’s okay] as what I like to think of as paying attention, seeing the whole picture, taking stock in everyday life, seeing beauty in the ordinary…


Oh alright. I’m a dreamer then¬†and damned proud of it!

So let’s see what a dreamer with her head in the clouds, nose in the air, eyes on the skies, is all dreamy about then.

And if you are a dreamer too…would you see what she sees when the lens go vertical?

The Tate Museum in London from an ant’s perspective:

The Tate Museum in London from an ant's perspective

A Lloyd Wright design as seem from this lowly architecture lover on the ground:
A Lloyd Wright design as seen from a lowly architecture lover on the ground

Reflections are just reflections until they become art. Can you see the cranes? Construction never looked so good!:
Reflections are just reflections until they become never looked so good!

It would be shameful it no one paid attention to the details of something as innocuous as ceilings…but when they look like this, it would be a crime!:


It would be shameful it no one paid attention to the details something an innocuous as ceilings...but when they look like this, how could you not?

Bridges are a favorite of mine, and the Tobin in Boston is no exception. This, however, was taken on the fly and yes (shhh) I was driving! Thank goodness for sun roofs ūüôā Oh, and thank you God that I’m still here (dumb, I know):

Bridges are a favorite of mine, and the Tobin in Boston is no exception. This, however, was taken on the fly and yes (shhh) I was driving! Thank goodness for sun roofs :) Oh, and thank you God that I'm still here (dumb, I know)

Street light art? If you’re in London, the answer is a resounding YES!:

Street light art? If you're in London, the answer is a resounding YES!

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a bird, it’s a ….yup, like that:






It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a bird, it's a ....yup :)

It’s a religious experience!:

IMAG0633 (1)

It's a religious experience!

Clouds are the ultimate source for wonder and awe from below:

wicked sky


Clouds are the ultimate!

Ever the Patriot:

Ever the Patriot

Goodnight Moon:

Goodnight Moon

Cheers everyone up there…from me, down below ¬†ūüôā


One Incredible Teen – 2 Incredible Minutes

This starts very quietly, so don’t think there is no sound.

Seventeen year old Joe Bush got a high school assignment to make a
Video reproduction. He chose history as a theme and tucked it all into two minutes.

Joe took pictures from the internet; added the sound track “Mind Heist”
By Zack Hemsey (from the movie Interception) and came up with this.
Incredible work for a 17-year old. Just finding the pictures was a
formidable task.

Bush‚Äôs video, titled ‚ÄúOur Story In 2 Minutes,‚ÄĚ was made for a unique class at Stillwater Area High School in Stillwater, Minnesota. Known as Cutaway Productions, the class gives high school students a chance to run a video production company, making public service videos, music videos, advertisements and more.

All I can say is…WOW!

Brother can you spare some CHANGE?

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Change.”


What easier way to showcase change than with the seasons. I’ve been known to take a thousand shots of a single mountain because each shot offers something different. Whether it’s the cloud formations that waft over the top, promising changes to come, or the way the sun strikes it on a sunny day vs. the rays that struggle through to kiss the peak on a cloudier one…IMG_0747One of my favorite changes is the coat of brilliant color that adorns it today when, just yesterday, that coat was green and brown…Jay in the distance

And tomorrow, it’ll be gray as ash, soon to be white as snow…snow cappedThe once empty horizon now filled with the winds of change in the form of wind powered turbines. ¬†All in the name of progress and, for some, the sacrifice of beauty…a change some do not like.IMG_0039
But…there’s more to change than the obvious. ¬†Some is predictable, some inevitable, some wanted, some not.
But it’s always coming. We all know this to be true.
Below, a slideshow with photos and thoughts on what I think about change.
I’m not afraid of it.
But like it or not…it’s coming.
So I’ll celebrate it here.

Please enjoy and thanks.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Porch Poet

porch collage
P inkish hues of spider’s silk
O ranges, yellows, whites like milk
R eds and greens in varying tints
C apture the sun’s rays as¬†they glint
H ere on the mums, there on a wing
P rompting retreat to shade covered things
O ppressive, this air you can cut with a knife
E ven the bird, like dragon, still life
T oday’s one for dwelling, musing, no movement
S o hoping tomorrow will bring some improvement


Laboriously Laboring and Languidly Lingering this Loathingly Liquid Labor Day

Labor Day.

The last holiday before the official end of summer.

And this is a steamy one for sure.

Humidity levels are through the roof so¬†if you venture into the sun, you’ll braise…not¬†bake¬† ūüôĄ

It is a day to celebrate the working person.

A day to ‘not’ work [as long as you don’t work in retail, then it’s a day to go Christmas shopping].

I know, right?

Anyway, since I don’t work outside the home, it is just another laundry day, with the added bonus of baking turtle brownies. (turtle brownies:¬† nuts and caramel in the brownies, um yeah mama)

Baking?  Today?  In this heat?

Ummm, my indoor thermostat says 68, and as he knows me well…he knows that should his¬†digits read below 68,¬†I shall haul off and punch him in the face!

So yeah, it’s a baking day¬† ūüôā


As happens in the summer, more bloggers are out living life rather than inside writing about it, hence, less blogging more jogging. At least it seems so to me.

And while I wasn’t out there jogging (God forbid!) I was ‘out there’.

So Labor Day does tend to remind me that it’s time to come in once in a while and ease back into the fall yarns (get it?) so when winter comes, I’ll be knitting stories with the best of ya!

I don’t have any particular “What I did on my summer vacation” tales to weave, but I do have a snap or two that do paint (crafty eh?) a pretty picture of some of the fun we had.

Like…the time Matty spent back in the lower 48. Three weeks of sun and disc golf and beachin and boozin (ahem) and cousins and Grandfolks and…well, you get the idea

labor day collage

For myself…most of my time was spent in the same places as the boys…I just had my hands on something other than a beer bottle.

[Ah shit, that’s a lie. I had one hand on a bottle and the other on the camera.]

Okay? Geesh! Can’t get away with crap around here!

So my time was spent catching mountains and moonlight…

labor day collage 2

then rivers, lakes, and lilly pads, roads and bridges too.

labor day collage 3

I had a couple days where the pickens were slim; a tree and some deer, and an old car pullin in. A whirlygiggly butterfly and dead people’s ground; a downpour and a pond sign for an absconded pond.

labor day collage 4

But you all know what I’m like, always a barn or two; then Supe with his sidekick, and a damsel lunching, eew eew…

labor day w Collage 5

This is a glimpse of what I’ve been laboring with. And if I do say…
Life is Good!

Hope you all had an enjoyable, relaxing, family and fun filled summer.
I look forward to seeing more regular attendance now that Blog U is back in session.

ūüôā R

The Barn Dance


There are some things that are just so much better when you do them in a barn!

Whether it’s squarein’, folkin’, cloggin’, or stompin’, the dances are da bomb.

It could be fiddlin’ or pickin’ and grinnin’ too, the music hits all the right notes.

If stichin’ and bitchin’ is your thing, a quilting bee could be the answer.

Meeting your sweetie on a Saturday night, or cruising and schmoosing at a Sunday social? Both could land you smack dab in the middle of a damned good roll in the hay.

Not that I had any such experience, but when the gals of the FHA ‘colluded’ with the boys of the FFA…there was usually chaff involved. (Chaff – the technical term for ‘honey, brush your britches off!)

No matter what it is, it’s just better in a barn.

This love affair with barns isn’t geographical. No matter what part of the world you live in…you’ll see evidence of local customs and ethnic traditions in the barns that dot the countryside. And whether there’s a floor (or sumpin’)being laid or a roof (or sumpin’) being raised, chances are you’ll find it’s for/with the community (or sumpin’).

That’s the draw for me, and it has been a life long one. The architectural type and features give us the biggest clues as to the who, the what, the where, and the when.

But it’s the condition of the barn that gives us the why.

Is it a model for advances in the industry, surrounded by shiny equipment and smelling of fresh mown hay and odor d’cow?

Or is it a sad landmark of better times? Rusting tractors, broken fences, over grown pastures and paddocks with just a whisper of what once thrived there?

Why is that barn falling in on itself…

Seen better days
Seen better days

…and the one down the road a bright red beacon of hope?

Why is the barn so big and the house so small?

And so on…

Growing up in dairy country, barns were as common a sight to me as high-rises and tenements are to city dwellers. But common or not, I’ve been drawn to them for as long as I can remember.

Maybe it was the stories my father would tell of life on the farm; drinking the milk raw, taking the cream right off the top, smokin’ corn silk in corn cobs, telling of things one did ‘behind’ the barn?

Or my own memories of tire swings hung in the space between the giant barn doors, or pushing my oldest brother (I swear he jumped) out of the hay loft doors ’cause there was a bee headed my way? I think perhaps being around folk who didn’t think “What, were you raised in a barn?” is an insult, may have had something to do with it.

One day, when I’m better equipped to do so, I’d like to tour our beautiful country just to photograph farms and barns. Or parts of barns. Or things that go in barns. Or…you get the idea.

When traveling, my driver is always saying “Look Babe, there’s a silo”. He gets me.

Or when I’m running the dirt roads with Supe, he’s always suggesting this path or the other because “There’s a great barn down here”. He gets me too.

This is not a unique idea by a long shot…I’m sure if I Googled it, I’d come up with thousands who’ve done that very thing, and done it extremely well. But that does not daunt me. I know what I like and I know taking snaps in a drive by is not very professional, but it’s what I do.

One lesson I’ve learned in the time it’s taken me and my third eye to become better acquainted is that, we each have our own perspective; we each see the beauty and the ugly in our own way; we each do what we do for our own reasons; and our eyesight is but a tool…

It is our hearts that are our true guide to what we capture and why.

So, if you’re keen on barns and the like, or just want to see the barn dance so far…you can see it on through link

Just remember…where there’s a barn, there’s a barn dancer.

And I’m one of ’em.

She Waits

She waits, as she always does, on the south side of the room
The same chair, straight, hard

The only softness is the faded paisley upon the seat
But that comfort is not for her
The oak warms in the sun

But remains cold and hard against her black skin
As she hangs on its back, waiting
For her special someone
To notice

The beams streaming through the door beside her
Unseen but felt
Tickling her, bathing her, tempting her

With promise

The promise of adventure
Oh how she wishes she had the wings of a bird

Like the one she paints
In the dark

From memory
She’d fly through that door
Out there

The sun, the clouds
Fire and rain
She misses them


She almost remembers
Diluted, like watercolor

She draws the lily as she remembers it

She can see it

A light spot in the dark
Of her memory’s eye

The myrtle that should be blooming by now
Longing to set her gaze on the ordinary
That she may set her sights to the extraordinary

This Is what she was born to do
Nothing else

But she has no control
Not over when, not over where
Hers is not to ask why
Hers is but to seek the truth when it is asked of her
Truth in beauty and the beauty in truth

This…is what she remembers…

This…is what she’s missing…

So she waits
As long as she is here
In the same room, on the same chair

She is blind
So she begs
“Uncover my face. Raise me up so that I may whisper in your ear
Be my wings so I can soar over field and stream
Capture the beauty of now
To keep with me for then
Our adventure is out there”

“Let me teach you to see the beautiful in the ugly” she pleads

“Let me show you the extraordinary ordinary” she whispers

She feels
Familiar hands, comforting hands
She’s flying, lifted and carried outside

It begins…today is the day
Eye open wide, taking it in

Capturing life as it happens
Not perfect…
Not posed…
Just life…

Nothing is too small

Tomorrow, she’ll wait again
But today…she flies
Today she is…


History Beats the Heat

Want a better way to

get off the street?

beat the heat?

spare the feet meat?

Do you like




Are you turned on by




Can you relate to



Romans and Africans?

Are you into

modern art?

classical art?

primitive art?

Do you want



or maybe prehistorical?

There is a way

to spend the day

with those that walked before us

That is to say

if you head that way

you just might spot a ‘saurus

Whatever you dig

or if digs are the fig

inside your personal ‘newton’

Then take a trip

aboard the ship

of the old masters, monsters, and Teutons

And as is my way

to share the day

maybe too my duty

To showcase one spot

that you’d otherwise not

experience the beauty

VMFA view

Of reeds so red

rising from the bed

with nary a thing shielding

In the Reeds

While waters dance

and winds advance

the fragile stand unyielding

Red Reeds and propellers

*Chihuly’s Glass Red Reeds at the Virginia Museum of Fine Art

Fridays with Murphy and Me


I’m sure this image¬†spoke to me the day I snapped¬†it

Was it the flowers the drew my eye?

Was it a feeling of being on the outside looking in?

Vice versa?

Getting my head caught in the ropes (a.k.a. arghhhh)?

Swiss cheese being what it is…I’ve forgotten it or lost it or maybe I just thought it was pretty at the time

However you look at it…I’m¬†damned if I¬†know now


So…as I often do when this happens, I just sit and stare at it.

Sometimes I fuss around with it…change a filter here, contrast there, funk it up a bit to see if it yells something out.

The funk didn’t help, as it is¬†not telling me what it wanted to say, but it did put me in mind of something…


Don’t ask…as I haven’t a clue

Just Murphy

You know…that fabled and famous guy that no one seems to be able to say exactly who or where or when or why…

There are as many stories as to how Murphy came to be associated with the worst luck ever as there are variations of the language of the law itself

Anyway…Murphy’s Law as I know it

“Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong”

Okay…well, if you think about it, it’s¬†not so bad really

Without things going wrong, we wouldn’t use our noggins to figure shit out


Even those folks for whom¬†everything seems to go wrong (ahem), it’s still not always a¬†bad thing if those ‘wrongs’ turn into learning opportunities.

Learning to do things a different way, a better way, an easier way, the ‘right’ way?

Seems so to me anyway…and I consider myself¬†in a good¬†position to say so, considering the shit storm my life has been the last couple years

But hey, that’s Life and Life¬†comes with just one promise…

Your Life promises to be your greatest adventure

Yes, it does

Where else can it be said that every minute of every day has the promise to be different from the one before?

If it isn’t, it’s not because it’s¬†Life’s fault…it’s ours

We have the choice…sit in one spot, don’t move, don’t think, don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t sleep…die


Get up, move around, go up, go down (sure…that way too), get outside, go inside, walk, drive, sing, love, laugh, cry, pout, clean, drink, eat…

Need I go on?

Every single one of those things is part of the adventure promised with each new second

Every promise can be fulfilled if we choose to make it happen


Sure, why not

But¬†let’s go one better…

How about adding some new laws?

Just to keep¬†us on the ‘that’s Life where every second promises a new adventure’ track

And to absolutely keep us on those ‘things on our feet that help us find furniture in the dark’….TOES

So in keeping with that…

Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.
The things that come to those who wait, may just be the things left by those who got there first.
If the shoe fits, get another one just like it.
Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine
A day without sunshine is like, well, night
He, who laughs last, thinks slowest

Got more?

Good, I was hoping you did

Share them here so we can all add them to our ‘Today’s Problems are Tomorrow’s Opportunities” catalogs

And now…I’m venturing off to¬†enjoy this second’s adventure and it involves a date with a certain “John”


Happy Adventuring…xo

Time to Jump

I’ve racked¬†my brain these last couple weeks trying to figure out why the muse has left the park and the carnies have picked up and packed away the games whose prizes used to fill my virtual toy box with fun and imaginative bits and bobs, but are now just cheap trinkets and sad, stuffed critters gathering dust.

Have I gone deaf? Or have the barkers stopped barking, the ringers stopped ringing, the poppers stopped popping?

Why can’t I smell the smokey, the sweet, the salty aromas that used to make my nose smile and my mouth run with meaty ideas and sweet and savory anecdotes?

Has my mind’s eye gone blind to the flash of the Ah Ha light bulbs, the story weaving fabrics of the neon rainbows, or the strange and beautiful oddities on two legs and four, that once teased a tale worth telling?

Yes, these last 6 months (plus the 12 before that if I’m honest) have been some of the weirdest of my life.
And yes, most of that time was spent in The Heartbreak Hotel or The House of Horror or for that matter, The Halls of Magic Mirrors.

While I did share those tales from the crypt, once the telling was done, the park went dark.
The tent spikes pulled, the manure cleaned up, the coming attractions came and went.
And once loaded, the train hit the rails and headed for someone else’s parking lot.

What am I waiting for?

So what’s next?
Do I stand by the side of the tracks like a hobo with my life filled bundle-on-a-stick?
Do I then jump on the next box car that passes by, hoping to find “it” down the line?

Or…do I drop yesterday’s bundle, step over the tracks, and begin a new leg of my journey?

I believe so.

I’ve been standing here waiting for too long now.

Time to scrape what’s left of the elephant shit off my shoes and get moving.

Synchronize: 6.1.2014 at Now O’clock
Starting Point: West of There ~ North of Then
The New Heading: East to Here ~ South to Now
The Destination: Unknown ~ Anywhere ~ Everywhere

Take a walk with me…let’s talk

Walk with me...
Walk with me…

First Step…trading shit-kickers for walking shoes.
Next Step…trading four walls for open space and the keyboard for the camera.
Each Step Thereafter…we’ll see what we see and share what we feel.
I want to know…and I want to hear it.

Snap. Crackle. Pop.

I see it…SNAP
You see it…CRACKLE
We tell it…POP

A word, a sentence, a poem, a memory, a feeling…
No matter how short or how long…
Be it funny, sad, truth, lie, fact, or fiction…
I want to hear about it.

This is the path for now…
The idea is Show and Tell
The questions are…

Do You See What I See?
Do You Feel What I Feel?
Do You Hear What I Hear?

It’s where I’m going and it’s how I’m hoping to re-open the amusement park that once thrived in the ordinary and mundane being anything but.

I look forward to welcoming you along.
And who knows? You may just find a junction of your own.
An inspiration that leads you to hop on a new train, or off the one you’re on.
Anything’s possible on the road to Anywhere.

See you soon and I’ll bring the ordinary…

You bring the extra.