This bleak landscape is the exterior stucco wall of my house:
It is apparently an excellent venue if you are a ladybug larva ready to transform:
It is a short flying distance from a native sage crawling with kinfolk:
(The WP Weekly Photo Challenge is Abstract.)
Good luck all around: I got to spend a week in New York and the weather was mostly beautiful. I must have walked 100 miles!
Headed south along the Hudson River in midtown, New Jersey looked picturesque:
In Manhattan I’ve always got tourist neck from walking with my head thrown back to take in the architecture. New York’s buildings of a certain age are loaded with decorative frills such as carvings, cornices, balustrades. (I’m confident I know what one of those words means.) There is even the occasional gargoyle.
On my walk along the Hudson, I discovered a yard for old building decor. Mammoth stone pieces lay scattered behind chicken wire fence.
There was even a cow’s head. Or, apparently, two.
Such pieces were built to last, so I couldn’t tell how long they’d been sitting there.
Certainly, there was a whole lotta building going on nearby.
I’m hoping the decor yard is a storeyard, not a junkyard. But it’s been a long time since construction trends in the U.S. favored such ornamentation.
Perhaps the pieces can be repurposed in a cemetery with really large mausoleums.
(The WP Photo Challenge was Ornate.)
There are chickens, and there are eggs, and I don’t actually care which came first, yet sometimes it’s fun to do a few laps with circular questions. For example, I’m attracted to photographs that suggest windows or views into other worlds. It can’t be a coincidence that I’m writing a series of speculative fiction novels placed in an infinite set of dimensions called FRAMES. The attraction probably preceded the writing but I no longer remember. Of course, that’s because I’ve been just-about-finishing the latest/second book in the series for longer than my memory stretches, but I digress.
On a recent trip to Dallas, I came upon a building that may be a Grand Central to many other realities:
In writing FRAMES I have also indulged or created my belief that buildings have personalities. This summer in Chicago I caught some buildings in another dimension, smoking…
And who could not want to chat with this guy? Gal? Whose voice do you hear when you imagine a conversation with this building?
(The WP photo challenge was Boundaries.)
Walk-wise, I’m in a rut. Every afternoon for weeks I’ve made the same trek up and across a hill near my house. The incline is steep enough that I feel virtuous and the view is swell.
All of which has nothing to do with this post.
Somewhere there is a list called Ten Things To Never Do On Your Blog. Wonder what number it is on the list: Never Open With An Aside.
If I open with two asides do they cancel each other out?
I walk the same walk every day, so I was amazed to discover that, from one day to the next, my neighbors erected a wood fence, then weathered it, distressed it, and rusted it, to create wonderful textured patterns:
Alternatively, I’ve walked the same walk every day for weeks without noticing this fence before now. There is a slight chance that that is the explanation. I am someone who walks down the hall of the house where she has lived for a decade and reacts wow! never noticed that wall sconce before.
As I’ve mentioned here recently, I am trying to, struggling to learn how to live in each moment. I’ve lived most of my life inside my head and I’d like to try somewhere new.
(The WP Weekly Photo Challenge was On The Way.)
At a traffic light in KoreaTown, I was stopped just long enough to snap this marketing strategy.
(The WP Weekly Photo Challenge was On the Way.)
I know I’m not alone with this dilemma: the more photographs I take, the harder it is to enjoy the moment. That camera-phone stuck to my face – that oh! good shot! scrutiny – blocks my senses.
But if I’ve got photographs, I can re-live (a weak yet satisfying imitation of) that moment. Without photographs, all I’d remember would be the beach with the pier is nice at sunset:
By the time I uploaded my photos, I’d forgotten how the surf distorted the pier’s reflection:
Nowadays, I’m really trying to live in the moment, so as I continued my walk, I pocketed my phone. Then unpocketed it. Many times.
Capturing a pelican on camera marks a different kind of living in the moment:
One of the great things about the beach is how quickly everything changes. Every moment really does last a moment. Here’s what happened to the sunset when the fog got just a bit thicker:
One solution to photographing my moments away might be to keep going back to the beach. I don’t need photo memories of stuff I do and see all the time – do I? Hmm. My photo library draws a different conclusion:
My cats and my granddaughter. I’m lucky enough to see both all the time. Yet the photo library keeps growing in both categories… Thank goodness for the digital photo era.
(The WP Weekly Photo Challenge was Broken.)
At first glance the image had an easy explanation – a reflective puddle in a church parking lot. That’s what I thought, and that’s what you would have thought if you were out walking with me. But then I looked up, to enjoy more of the pink clouds. Had we been together, maybe I would have clutched your arm and pointed above our heads. There were no pink clouds.
Our sky was cloud-free.
This wasn’t a reflection, then, but a glimpse of somewhere else.
Someday perhaps I’ll figure out how to visit. Although I’m not sure whether it’s knowledge, faith, or courage that I lack.
Meanwhile, I can only imagine the somewhere elses as I send Nica to other Frames.
(The WP Photo Challenge is Enveloped.)