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Posts Tagged ‘reflection’

That same day there was a glass on the table, and it too filled with light. As you might imagine, it was a very hard day to concentrate. It would have been easy to pull down some shades or find a dark corner, but I do declare, I just couldn’t do it.  I have no regrets even though I had to stay up a bit late to finish some writing assignments.

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The tree I photograph most often through the rippled window is dead.  The greenery and blooms captured throughout the seasons are mostly from vines like forsythia, ivy and something holly-like.  With each storm, more of the tree falls to the ground, whole branches and bits of bark.

For safety’s sake, at some point soon, whoever owns that particular piece of ground will have to chop that tree down.  The woodpeckers will certainly miss their perch and the insects that they dine upon will miss their home.  The vines I suspect will continue to thrive.

Even cut off at the base, they always seem to come back, finding new objects to drape upon. And the moss is ever present.

 

Adjacent is the neighbor’s garden.  He did quite well his first season with a multi-tiered, lush affair of eggplant and kale, tomatoes and cauliflower.

I expect he grew potatoes, too, like me.  And I know for sure I saw the green beans climbing up their strings.

As December looms, all that’s left are the relics of dark greens and tomatoes that I guess the city rabbits and city squirrels couldn’t figure out how to get.

There is the chain link fence but that doesn’t prevent his cat from getting out so I’d think that wouldn’t prevent other animals from getting in.  If I do my local Open Studios next year, perhaps I will focus on prints of scenes through the rippled glass.

One window, many views.  We’ll see.  Ideas are easy. It is the follow-through that’s hard. FYI, these are untouched photos of views in this early morning’s light.

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Reflected in the waters are the usual plants found by freshwater and also the long lines of neighboring buildings.  No fish have I seen at this juncture yet nor turtles or frogs.  The ducks seem to have a good time when they drop in, and there are many colorful dragonflies.

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In response to the previous post, I received some inquiries about availability of prints.  Glossy and metallic prints, 5×7 and 11×14, are available for online purchase via this link.  There you’ll find these and other images taken during my various hikes by the water and wherever the wind blows me.

The images are fairly unique and the prints are sized to facilitate matting and/or framing for easy display.  The printing is top quality.  I hope you enjoy, and have the opportunity to peruse other images on the site: http://photosbycynthia.smugmug.com/

 

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Two of my favorite phrases that help me get through some days. 😉

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I have thought of my father much this weekend, and mostly when I do, I smile.  I am sure that he would shake his head and possibly chuckle at the new bucket of potatoes I have growing in the hallway.  The stems are thick and the leaves a dark, vibrant green in the morning light.  Planting that bucket was a moment of wonderful calm.  I will always associate the joys of gardening with my father who found his calm in that way. I think he used to find his calm on the water too.  In the garden or on the water, I think one thing he modeled for me was how to take a deep breath and keep moving forward even into the unknown.  Maybe that’s why I thought of him as I read a passage from a sermon about Shores of Light.

“There are people even in this troubled and confused world who are continually like plants reaching upward toward the shores of light.  When those shores are completely hidden from our sight by mist and fog, when we can see nothing but this present world from which time sweeps us away with almost no consideration at all, we look at them and we say, The shores of light must still be there.”  — Theodore P. Ferris

 

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I leaned over a bridge, and this is what I saw in the Mystic River.

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In Copley Square, there is a fountain where I like to sit, eat my hot dog, and then, if I’m lucky, photograph leaves floating on the surface of the water.  This week few leaves floated but there was plenty of trash, and the trash was blocking some sort of vent or drain and so the water was swirling erratically.  And then a little kid poured in a bottle of bubbles, and somebody’s dog jumped in to chase the pigeons and I thought, quite frankly, “This sucks.”  But then you know what happened as it always does?  The sun came out … The trash did not disappear but there was a beauty revealed, too, I think.  But that’s just my perspective.

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In the following 1965 debate that took place between James Baldwin and William F. Buckley, Baldwin refers to “forty years ago when I was born …” Perhaps, because of my age, the phrase struck a chord.  The debate takes place at Cambridge University, and its focus is that ever-evolving, often elusive concept of the american dream, and at whose expense that dream is realized.   The whole debate is 58 minutes long.  With all due respect to Mr. Buckley and his rebuttal, I am encouraging/challenging people to listen to at least the first part of the debate, the remarks of Baldwin.  Whatever one’s political or social leanings, his command of language is a marvel to watch and listen to.

As I listened to Baldwin I was saddened at the timelessness of his words.  Why are his words, spoken nearly fifty years ago, as relevant today?  In a related side note, this morning I had the opportunity, by phone, to singalong with my four-year old nephew, Jordan.  Apparently we both like to whistle.  As I listened to Baldwin, I thought of Jordan and other little family members new to the world.  I hope that they learn about Baldwin as a writer and an activist in his own unique way, and that they also learn about the power of words.

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