Summer in Review

On this, the last day of August, I thought it might be fun to take a look back at summer.  Three months of rainy days and sunshine, morning walks, Pirate baseball, honking geese and sunsets on the lake.  Three months of brightly colored flowers, grandchildren, and vegetable gardens.

It was difficult to choose only one or two photographs from each month, which was my original intent.  Instead I opted to select the images that tugged at my heart strings in some form or fashion.  All too soon the list was long. (That is to warn, photo overload ahead.)

Without further adieu, I give you summer 2012, as seen through my lens.









































I'd say it was a very good summer.

The Snow Fence

Of Dogs, Mud & Goose Poop

Clearing skies after a long day of heavy rain was all the invitation needed to head out of doors .  A walk to the lake was in order and Henna was all too eager to grab her leash and accompany me.  What I hadn't planned on was Lexi, our resident pup and golden doodle, joining us in her inimitable style.

Picture if you will Henna, tethered to her leash and thus to me, cheerfully engaging in friendly dog play with the very large and overzealous pup.  There was barking and tousling on their part, jumping and dodging on mine.  I was certain I was going down in a tangle of dogs and leash but somehow I prevailed.  Eventually Lexi tired of their game and bounded off.

What happened next is a blur.  All I know for certain is that one minute I was upright and the next I was flat on my back in the mud and the goose poop wondering what the heck had happened.  Apparently Lexi had circled around behind me clipping the backs of my legs sending me unceremoniously to the ground.  My initial thought as I lay sprawled in the grass was how many of my neighbors had witnessed my embarrassing descent?   And then the pain hit.  My left elbow had taken the force of the fall and was letting me know in no uncertain terms that it was not happy with the situation.

After a few minutes I gathered my scattered wits about me and crawled slowly to my feet.  Other than a  a screaming elbow there did not appear to be any broken bones or severed limbs.  I was going to live. As for Lexi, she took off for parts unknown and hasn't been seen or heard from since.

Why I'm Still Around

As I look back on the past four years, my tenure in the blog world, I can't help but wonder why I'm still here?  I have a readership of twelve.  I have suffered and survived a serious bout of burnout; and I often ponder just where I fit in a world ruled by page hits, traffic sources , unique visits and bounce rates.  And why do I care?

I realized recently that I don't care.  I accept that I am an average writer and a slightly above average photographer.  It would be hard to get a day job doing what I love to do.  But here, on these virtual pages, I say what's in my heart and my mind.  I post the images that make me happy.  And for some strange reason the twelve of you keep coming back for more.   (I thank you for that.)

After four years this little blog of mine has become one of the parts that make up the whole of who I am.  Amputation of parts is not an option.

Aint Life Grand

The sunsets of late have been of the spectacular variety.  The type that begins with the bright orange orb drifting towards the horizon casting golden light in all directions, leaving in its wake an afterglow of red and orange and purple that softens harsh shadows then slowly fades to black.

Aint life grand?

The Secret Garden

Situated around the corner on the southern edge of the land where the dandelions grow, the secret garden awaits.  Its uneven walkway wears like a pair of well worn sneakers.  Flowers and ground cover meander aimlessly in search of fertile soil to sow the seeds of their offspring.  Each season brings a  bright splash of color.  Red, yellow, blue and white blossoms fresh off the color wheel share welcoming duties, each in its predestined time.

The secret garden does not belong to me; except when my neighbors are off on an adventure and then it is mine.  Sometimes camera and tripod in tow I photograph whichever fresh face is in season; but more often than not I find myself sitting cross legged on the pavers inhaling the calm.

Thoughts are prone to wander here.  Ideas are hatched.  Memories are polished.  Dreams are let out their cages to fly free and untethered. The minutes pass quickly and all to soon it is time to go.  The dreams, the ideas and the memories are carefully wrapped in tissue paper and tucked safely away before moving on.

If you come to visit I'll take you there.  But don't tell Steve and Marcia, it will be our little secret.

Little Red Gets A Face Lift

After two years and many incarnations plans for the renovation of The Little Red Cottage have been completed.  Phase one is about to commence.  It is with mixed emotions that I await the arrival of the wrecking crew who will detach the wobbly old garage from the main structure and remove it in a flurry of dust and debris.  Replacing it with a slightly larger addition that when finished will afford us two bedrooms, a second bathroom and a much needed utility room.

We knew from the beginning change would be necessary.  A second bedroom was a priority along with a proper place to enjoy a meal indoors without the need to rearrange furniture.  Initially The Kid wanted to tear her down and start fresh.  An idea I just could not wrap my head around.  I have always had a love affair with old buildings, old houses and old things.   There was no way I could allow her to be torn down.  Our old gal has great bones and a beautiful soul.  I felt it the minute I first stepped inside on the fateful July morning.  And so I dug in my heals and eventually The Kid conceded defeat.  She would live.

There have been several starts, stops and missteps along the way but I think we have finally found the right formula.  One that provides us with some additional elbow room and yet maintains the integrity of the original structure.

I believe I will rest better at night knowing The Little Red Cottage will be around for the next sixty years.  Like all of us old gals, she just needs a little face lift.

A Change Is Gonna Come

Stay tuned.

A Thought To Ponder

The screaching and clawing and back biting that goes on for a bit of stale bread never ceases to amaze me.  And then I wonder, are we so very different?

The Eagle Has Landed

The summons to come outside and bring my camera came in a quiet but commanding voice.  Whatever The Kid had spotted, I knew it must be good.  In silence we made our way through the maze of trees that dot the lake side of our property and then I saw it.  Perched on a sturdy branch in a nearby tree he sat, in all of his majestic splendor, an adult American Bald Eagle.



You can't imagine the thrill it gave me to see this magnificent bird up close and personal in the wild.

I had seen him once previously.  Had startled him away from feeding on a turtle along the shore line.  The Kid had spied him several times flying low over the neighborhood, but this time he stopped and sat a spell.



As I inched my way closer I was surprised that he stayed put for such a long time. It was as if he were posing for me.



 Eventually he grew tired of my intrusion and prepared for take off.



I swear I got goose bumps as those enormous wings unfolded.  He streaked past me a flash, circled the cove once and in a matter of seconds was gone.



He left in his wake a moment I will treasure for a life time.

Do you think if I promise not to stalk him he might return?

Missed Opportunities

For over a week I passed it on my way into town.  A farmers field, dotted with white topped Queen Anne's Lace displaying its summer glory.  Scattered among the flowers were large bales of recently mowed hay.  It was an image I wanted to capture but knew I would need an accomplice.  A get-away driver to drop me off and patiently wait with the motor running while I did my thing.

On Thursday evening everything fell into place.  The light was right and the driver willing.  As we approached the field I was planning my angles, which lens I would use.  During this time when inspiration has vacated the premises I was feeling quite inspired.  It all evaporated in a flash, only to be replaced by disappointment.  The field was there.  The Queen's Anne's Lace was there, but the bales of hay were nowhere to be found.

Another missed opportunity.

And so I ask, why?  Why do I do that?  Why do I let the moments pass?  Why don't I act when the time is right?  It only leads to regret.

Regret is a heavy load to carry.

A Word of Warning

August must be slump month for me.  No words.  No energy.  No creativity.

This laissez faire attitude has overtaken my writing and found it's way into my photography; creeping along and ever so slowly coating every aspect of my creative spirit in a thick coat of I don't care.  I'm still taking a photograph a day.  But there is little joy in the process.

I know from experience that this too shall pass.  I will awaken one bright sunny morning to find inspiration and motivation coursing through my veins.  Until then I will continue to do what I do and wait for the energy to return.

But it won't be pretty.

Just thought I should warn you.

Mired In Mud

Our lake does not exist for our boating pleasure.  It is a reservoir.  A preserver of water.  When times are wet it holds back.  When times are dry it gives of itself to those in need down stream.  This summer times are dry.  We are told water is released from our earthen dam on a regular basis.  It's purpose to insure the Ohio River, many miles downstream, remains navigable for barge traffic.

I get it.

But I don't have to like it.

I'm selfish like that.

Savor The Sunset

Savor the sunsets.  They are a gift from heaven.

Rescue, The Four Legged Variety

The faint mewling was first heard late one evening by one of my neighbors.  A quick look around turned up nothing and the incident was forgotten.  Until the next day, when it was heard again by another of my neighbors.  Further investigation uncovered a tiny kitten huddled in fear behind some weeds along side of their barn.




He was a wee one.  Pitifully thin and barely hanging on but wide eyed and extremely vocal.  Support troops were called to action and the rescue was on.  Who was he?  Where had he come from?  Were there more?  All good questions, but none with answers.   However one thing was certain, he was staying.  It was only a matter of whose house he would be moving into.  



Our friends and neighbors to the south stepped up and determined he belonged to them.  Soon a kennel lined with a soft cloth appeared along with a bowl of softened cat food and the process of finding him a name commenced.  Lucky?  Jackpot?  Barny?  For a short time Yuengling was the front runner until Greenbay was suggested immediately followed by Packer.  Packer he became.  (His new father is a Packer fan.)  In short order he was hauled to the vet for an examination and his first set of inoculations.



 I gave him a few days to adjust to his new environment and then went in for the kill, ummm,  photo shoot.  Initially the click of the camera sent him scurrying for cover but eventually he adjusted.





I'm happy to report that Packer is happy and healthy and adapting quickly to his new home.



He has an elderly big sister who isn't enthusiastic about the new addition to the family.  But his new owners?



I'd say their over the moon.

Rescue complete.  Mission accomplished.

Dog Days

The dog days of summer are upon us.  Hot.  Sticky.  Long.  The part of summer when ambition takes a vacation leaving only the desire to relax under the shade of a large sugar maple in the hope of catching a snippet of breeze wafting across the lake.

There is the promise of September.  Of cooler temperatures.  Of red and orange and yellow water colors outside my window.  Of frost and pumpkins.  Of closing up and heading south.

I'm not ready for all of that just yet.

And so, I shall sit beneath the sugar maples and wait for ambition to return.  I won't complain about the hot, the sticky and the long if you don't ask me to mow the yard or cook you dinner.

I think that's fair.  Don't you?

The Hummers

Humming birds fascinate me.  Their size.  Their speed.  Their industrious spirit.

One of the things I knew I wanted after purchasing the Little Red Cottage was a humming bird feeder.  I thought I might find one wrapped and tied with a bow waiting for me under the Christmas tree last year, but no one got the hint.  I also had a vision of a unique and ornamental version that would be a conversation piece as well as a feeder.  What I bought was a $5 red plastic contraption the likes of which is sold in every mega store across the land.  And do you know what?  The humming birds like it.  They don't care that it's cheap plastic and not an artistic statement.  Something else I've learned.  You don't need to purchase the red dye filled nectar sold along side the cheap plastic feeders.  The hummers are just as happy with a simple formula of water and sugar sans red dye.

Initially we were surprised to find that our local ant population was equally impressed with our little feeder.  It didn't take long for a super highway of ants to form, a one way trip to a sugary paradise.  On a suggestion from my Mom we applied a little axle grease to the base of our hanger.  The highway dissolved, along with the hopes and dreams of ants for miles around.  But the hummers kept coming.

Last weekend I set my camera and tripod in front of the feeder window and waited.  It didn't take long until the tiny birds began to zip in, drink their fill and zip off again.  Quick as lightening they came.  I soon discovered that a remote chord to trigger the shutter was a must. The hummers are easily distracted and will flit away at the slightest of movements.  I was happily engaged for almost an hour as one after the other the hummers stopped by for a drink and a photo shoot.









If you feed them, they will come.

Enjoy your Tuesday.