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Posts Tagged ‘pictures’

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Summer heat means taking walks earlier and earlier.

Today I’m sharing a bunch of my recent photos, plus three from friends. It’s great that so many self-isolating people are sending pictures to each other now. Have you noticed?

Kristina sent the red flower below, which I believe is a Chinese Hibiscus. She lives in my town, but we don’t get to see each other as regularly as before Covid. The next two photos are from Melita, who is currently living in Madrid. Spain was hit hard by the virus, and Melita says she’s grateful for the relative safety of the gardens she can walk to.

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The rest of the photos are mine. For weaving bloggers, I took a picture of the handsome dishtowel a childhood friend made and sent me out of the blue. I positioned it on top of a pillow cover her parents wove many years ago. She carries on the traditional craft.

My local community garden is coming along beautifully and providing a temptation to more than birds. Hence the sign.

Funny to be regarding as art the commuter train that was part of my working life for decades.

Louisa’s grave in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery is never short of writing utensils. I love checking it out. And every day that I take a walk near there, I see more gravestones I want to photograph. Shadowed ones for example.

The next four photos show art on the Bruce Freeman Rail Trail, courtesy of Umbrella Art Center artists. The painted doors are by Sophy Tuttle, and the woodland shelving is by Rebecca Tuck.

The various lilies belong to neighbors, and the bright pink flower is, according to the app PictureThis, a rose mallow, apparently a relative of Kristina’s flower.

The last three photos are from New Shoreham and include the historic home where the song “Smilin’ Through” was written — a fact, I fear, that only an islander would consider worthy of note.

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I take pictures with my phone, and some are better than others. Don’t expect too much.

These shots are from recent rambles in my neighborhood: I don’t like to go so far these days that I might have to use a public bathroom! Actually, there is one photo that is not mine. It was taken by my friend Kristina’s Arizona cousin. So adorable! I don’t think we have quail around here.

Let me start with a few oddities: a lily that had a tough time waking up, the first possum to visit my yard in 38 years, and a whimsical tombstone (the more traditional family of the deceased had their way with the other side).

From there we move to the baby quail, hatched in a flower pot, lovely shadows early and late, and kindness rocks. I think initially the young artists started making the rocks just to cheer people up, but now they have set up a way to sell them for the benefit of the Boston Food Bank. Outside the front door of their house, they have a poster of a giant thermometer to mark how they’re doing with their donation goals — the way one might do for Community Chest. I’m impressed.

Moving along to the community garden, I love one person’s tidy plot with a woven gate. In fact, I love all the spring scenes I’ve collected, including skunk cabbage and ferns unfurling. The spring photos could illustrate the children’s book I’ve been rereading, The Secret Garden — so full of joy about nature! Don’t laugh when I tell you why I originally thought about asking the library for the e-book: all those people dying of cholera in the beginning, followed by a happy life for the survivors.

The last picture is from the elementary school’s playground. At most times of day, there is no one on the school grounds, and unless I can keep a steady six-foot distance walking with a friend, going where there is no one at all is pretty much my favorite thing these days.

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Whatever you did today, I hope it was nice. We had an egg hunt at our house (this year’s whacky egg-coloring technique worked well), and then we played in the park.

Above, you see the baskets ready for the four grandchildren. The painting on the wall is by my oldest grandson, who is not quite 9.

Below, looking pensive, is our youngest grandchild.

I used a branch of an early rhododenron to hang Easter ornaments.

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Today I wrapped up my latest visit to New York, where I spent time with my sister and her husband. The city was great in both rain and sunshine. I loved every minute spent in Central Park — amazing at all times of year, but especially in spring. I also enjoyed an exhibit of JRR Tolkien’s art and letters at the Morgan Library (available only until May 12) and my visits with a number of my sister’s friends.

The first picture is of dawn on the Upper West Side. Next are flowering trees near the West Side Community Garden, followed by photos of the garden itself. How terrific to see that much prime real estate being used in this way!

I photographed the Tolkien poster, but no picture-taking was allowed inside the actual exhibit, alas. Tolkien was a fascinating artist as well as a writer of fantasies like The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Among the works shown at the Morgan were the illustrated letters from Father Christmas to Tolkien’s children, which I showed you in 2018, here.

The concluding pictures are from Central Park. I can’t get over what an artist the landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead was to create so many diverse vistas showcasing nature, never disrupting it. There are wonderful rock formations, hills and valleys, grottoes, woodland paths, waterfalls, streams …

It’s also impressive to observe how residents and city government alike use and cherish the park these days. I remember a time when I wasn’t supposed to go near it when walking my aunt’s corgi in the morning. Nowadays, the mornings are filled with bikers, walkers, runners, dogs — and the lucky people whose work commute is on foot through all that beauty.

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Transitions. In September, the meadow along the Sudbury River was green. Last week it was ice.

As kids, John and Suzanne used to skate on the meadow as soon as the river’s overflow ice was strong enough. Perhaps the wooden posts have something to do with a new generation planning to play there. Nowadays, John puts up a backyard rink in winter — just the thing for his family of skaters.

The next photo was taken by my sister in New York City. She says it’s unusual for Riverside Park to have icy puddles like that — one more example of the weather we’ve been experiencing in the Northeast. In my town, Thursday’s deluge came on top of melting snow and ice, and kept my husband bailing out the basement all day.

Next, you see our neighborhood before dawn and after dark, at sunrise and at sunset, in light and in shadow.

I had to include some lovely fungus, of course, and a message in stone that persons unknown left at a pocket park downtown.

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Summer has its own pace — sometimes slow and sleepy, sometimes fast and exhausting. The grandchildren like to go-go-go. The older folks wouldn’t mind taking a nap every day.

This photo collection starts out with my energetic older grandson, who learned to surf this summer. Suzanne tried it, too, because John bought her a surfing lesson for her birthday. She says her nephew was really a natural.

Today’s pictures are all from Providence and New Shoreham.

Suzanne’s neighbor has the goofy fairy houses, and the elegant used bookstore Paper Nautilus is also near her home.

The Painted Rock is a beloved island feature — too beloved these days. People paint over one another’s messages within hours, and even a decent picture gets no respect. There were few decent pictures this year, mostly spray painted graffiti.

On our morning walk, Sandra and I snuck up on the bird that was visiting the Manissean cemetery, thinking we’d get a great shot of a heron. You have probably already realized it was only a cormorant. But what a cormorant was doing in the cemetery is anybody’s guess.

I wrap up with a pre-dawn view. “The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.” (Wish I’d written that myself.)

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I know it’s possible to take good pictures on cloudy days, but for me, the play of sunlight and shadow is irresistible. And this time of year, Midsommar in Swedish, has so much sunshine.

Today’s photos feature my usual Massachusetts and Rhode Island haunts. A couple pictures may be slow to load as I am learning to use an iPhone and the size I chose is too big for a blog. I’ll get better at this.

The Mountain Laurel above is from one of my favorite walks — through Sleepy Hollow Cemetery into wooded conservation land. The sunflowers by my fence were a gift from one of the ESL teachers I assist in Providence.

I got a big kick out of the deciduous holly tapping on the window. It was overcome with curiosity about what I was reading so intently at the kitchen table. (Answer: War and Peace.)

The next photo shows a child’s playhouse in Concord. I have never seen any child there and can only imagine how I would have felt to have such a place to play in as a kid. I would have thought I was in heaven.

Next comes an actual home in New Shoreham, one that is not much bigger than the playhouse. Decades before anyone spoke of “tiny houses,” a member of a church I was attending lived in this very small house year-round. It was known as the Doll House, although today the damaged sign says only, “Doll.”

Next to Doll, is a tiny restaurant called the Three Sisters with outdoor seating only and antiques on the fence. (Order sandwich combinations with names like Hippie Sister, Sailor Sister, and Twisted Sister.) There is also a small junk yard (antique yard?) that is fun to investigate while you wait for your food.

In the first sky photo, I was trying to capture the lower clouds, which looked like sheep, but I don’t think they are that noticeable given the whole view.

Finally, a Rhode Island sunset. Ahhhh.

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It rained hard at noon, but the stalwarts opening booths for the first farmers market of the season hung on and before long the weather cleared, and it was sunny and warm.

Today I’m posting some recent outdoor photos from Massachusetts and Rhode Island and thinking particularly how seed pods, the smell of lilacs, and small landscapers make me happy.

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My friend Bob says there is no bad weather, only bad clothing. So I headed out at lunch yesterday all bundled up to take some pictures.

The following is to be sung to the tune of “When You Walk through a Storm.”

When you walk in the cold
Hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid
You will freeze.

At the end of your walk
There’s a golden …

I think I’m stuck. Maybe songwriter Will McM will dig me out.

While I’m on the subject, here’s a 1980s attempt at a song about cold, to be sung to the tune of “I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover.” Suzanne’s elementary school music teacher actually used it in class.

What is the reason
That we’re all freezin’
And the birdbath is filled with ice?
Why does my Omni
Go sideways down the street?
Why do my children wear
Baggies on their feet?
What normal fellow
Whose brains aren’t Jello
Would keep fighting this cold war?
What is the reason
That we’re all freezin’
And what did we move here for?

Believe it or not, I kind of like the cold. And I love getting out and taking pictures. Yesterday I noticed a yellow Fort Point Arts sign on an old chain link fence. Then I noticed the butterflies.

Read about Claudia Ravaschiere and Mike Moss’s installation, Flutter, here.

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I’m back in America. America is what people on the island call the mainland. “I have to go to America today. Dentist appointment.” “I missed the boat and got stuck in America.”

Here are a few pictures from America. Burdock in bloom. Warnings from a stone wall that has “achieved balance.” An alley in Fort Point. A tour guide on the Common. Berklee students performing jazz at Atlantic Wharf. A decorative plaque on a building that wasn’t always a hotel.

I have two questions. Who knew that burdock had pink flowers? What are “spitting spiders”?

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My winter resolution will have to be to find more photo ops when the world isn’t blooming. I’ll have to look harder for interesting shadows and shapes in a black & white world. In the meantime, I sure am enjoying summer picture taking.

The first photo is of a Little Free Library in the Greenway. (Check out the concept here.) Then there’s the Bookshop window. Can you read the funny signs? They say, “I don’t remember the title … but the cover was blue.”

Next is the herb garden behind the church and Doug Baker’s bonsai trees. He once gave a very young Suzanne and her friend Joanna little bonsai trees, admonishing them that the trees had to be as carefully tended as babies. (Alas, the girls were too young to tend babies.)

After the planter with the escaping petunias come flowering weeds and hydrangeas on my street.

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