Posts Tagged ‘fantasy’

I don’t remember writing the story in 2012 or so. What I do remember is that early on in our relationship I might say to Steve as we hiked, “Ah, we’ve come to a fork in the road. Which one do we take?” And his response was always something to the effect, “If there’s a fork in the road, pick it up.” Not so helpful a reply in the moment but more helpful creatively than I ever imagined. The seeds were planted so when one day a little girl asked me to make up a story about a stone in my rock collection … well, the following story somehow evolved. https://www.creativity-portal.com/articles/cynthia-staples/long-walk.html

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At the beginning of May, I did a post, spring images through the double rippled glass.  Now that May nears its end, and the weather is almost consistently warm, one set of windows has been removed.  And guess what? The remaining window is a bit pitted and rippled in places too!

The bright gold forsythia flowers visible in the previous post are gone, but as I recently tried to convince a young friend, even with no flowers, green plants and hanging vines are quite beautiful.

Through the single pane, the morning light seems to shine differently, and the spring winds seem to send the vegetation moving in a different dance. My imagination is still stirred at what’s captured just by pausing for a moment.  The following image reminds me of Munch’s The Scream … though in a happier way.

And these images (only the last one altered in GIMP) remind me of those forest portals where reside dragons and other magical folk … though that thought must be influenced by recent viewings of Game of Thrones.

And, if I lift my camera above the spring green, and look up into the sky?  This is what I see, through the rippled glass.

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The gentlemen at the muffler shop next door lost a bevy of their balloons but they were caught, quite gently, by the oak tree towering above the house.  I was reminded of The Red Balloon, a movie that I have not seen since I was a child but I feel a need to look it up.

Also caught was a plastic bag that in this morning’s light with its twists and turns about the branches reminded me of a nautilus shell.

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Well, not really.  A friend hung a large poster print of a photograph I took of 4 maidens in Edwin Abbey’s mural depicting scenes from the search for the Holy Grail.  As I photographed the poster and how it appeared in his home, I began to notice the reflections in the picture frame.

The layering of images, especially in black and white, appeared ghostly to me.

The effect was heightened by some rather moody music playing in the background at a local music festival.

In any case, I hope my friend enjoys his poster.

That poster print and other items are available here.

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It was the beauty of the artwork on the covers of fantasy and sci-fi novels that used to draw my attention in bookstores.   So many of the illustrations depicted a cloaked figure, partially illuminated.  And then there’s my growing interest in stained glass windows.  The figures in them, whether peasant or angel, wear luminous robes in a rainbow of colors.  With such inspirations in my life, how could I not see a cloaked figure as I zoomed in on this orchid?

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I don’t know … I feel like I see a figure in the icicle.  A drooping shoulder.  A lean torso narrowing into nothingness as the sun melts its frame.  Perhaps I have been reading too many fantasy novels. What do you see? 😉

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A story inspired by a 5-year old in love with “Once upon a time a little girl …” 😉

Once upon a time a little girl picked a bouquet of flowers.  She put them in a vase of water and placed the vase next to a window.  Each flower upon its  sturdy stem was beautiful in the sunlight.  But then time passed and the flowers changed no matter how many times she added water.  One morning she brushed her hand across the dying blooms and a whole flower fell to the table.

It broke revealing all its many parts that had made a single whole.

The girl gently touched the fragile pieces.  While she admired their different shapes and colors and textures, she wanted her flower back as a single beautiful thing.

And so she picked up the stigma and stamen and petals and leaves and she tried to put the puzzle back together again.  It was, of course, an impossible task.  As she stood there at the window trying to decide if she should be very angry or very sad or just a little crabby, a ray of light touched a petal and the withering stems.   “It’s still beautiful,” the girl realized with a smile, “Just in a different way.”

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