Only Connect

I'm switching gears here quite radically...moving away from winter and scenery and going to post a picture of a complete stranger.  I took this picture last August at Deep Cove Days in North Vancouver, where lots of people were enjoying music, and food, and sunshine... 

I noticed this young mother caressing her baby and was struck by her tattoos, including the one like a wedding band.  And then I noticed how she was leaning back to back with a guy sporting a modified Mohawk and a muscle shirt, whom I assumed was the baby's father.  They made such a non-traditional sort of family, and yet the baby was dressed in pink. 

Maybe it was a boy.

I must admit to tinkering with this photo for several hours today (blame it on the weather).  I was inspired by a themed "exhibit" of photographic art at Bonnie's Pixel Dust Photo Art blog this weekend where she set a challenge to come up with a picture demonstrating "connection."  What stronger connection could there be than between a mother and her baby?  But here we go a step further and have the bond between parents and child. 

Next week, Bonnie's asking participants to illustrate the concept of "Vintage."

Looks like I got a head start on it!

Do take a wander through Bonnie's virtual art gallery to see other fine examples of photo art from bloggers all over the world.

What do you think might be an appropriate title for my photo?

Madonna and Child?  The Holy Family?  The Unholy Trinity?

Observed

At the Halifax Jazz Festival, while I was observing, I was also being observed...

by this very sweet little girl in front of me, 

who clearly felt safe and snug in the arms of her father.

Another interesting pair, secure in each other's arms, was this couple who just couldn't resist the groove being laid down by the band.

What they lacked in skill they more than made up for in enthusiasm; whereas the young "coolios" who were also up dancing had all the moves but a certain degree of self-consciousness of their own youthful beauty.

So I didn't bother to photograph them.

My ballet teacher used to say at the start of every little "adage" (series of steps) 

that she put together for us in class,

"Make a dance of it!" 

 Good advice for Life, I would say.

Dance to your own music, even if it is to the tune of a different drummer!

Or, to quote Jackson Brown from his song, For A Dancer

Just do the steps that you've been shown 
By everyone you've ever known 
Until the dance becomes your very own 
No matter how close to yours 
Another's steps have grown 
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone 

Boogey on, my friends!

*

Linking up with Tones on Tuesday where bloggers showcase tone-altered pix

Always Leave 'em Laughin'

Dashing to catch a bus in a "colourful" part of Vancouver, I noticed this intriguing scenario unfolding across the street from my bus stop.

I had just enough time to get my camera out and catch this one shot before my bus pulled up and I had to clamber on.  They seemed to be having a great lark and it was obviously pre-planned.  I love it that the rocket guns match the yellow and red paint on the wall.  And isn't the guy's smile just precious?  He looks like a jolly Buddha.  And how about the little skull and crossbones icon on the photographer's cap?  I felt like getting this picture was a  gift from the universe to me that day.


The following photo's not in any way related to the previous one, except that the store's name tickled my funny bone.

Talk about being in "Danial"!

I can just imagine the cell phone conversation going on inside that store when the wife phones hubby to ask him where he is. 

 "So where are you?"  

"I'm in Danial."

"Yeah, I know that already, but where are you geographically?!"

****

Well, I can't be in denial any longer.  I'm having a problem with my left eye that is greatly affecting my vision so I think I'll probably have to refrain from blogging for a little while.  Nothing serious, I'm told, but something to "keep an eye on" (pardon the pun).  My sight is full of black squiggly lines, and loops, and patchworks, and networks...rather like the textures I sometimes apply to my photos or paintings.  It's supposed to clear up over the next few weeks.  Let's hope so!  Meanwhile, if you notice me by my absence, you'll know why.

Hopefully see you soon, though--and clearly.

Tigh One On

Please pardon my absence from Blogland but I was taken captive by my sister and forced to attend a wine and gourmet food tasting event at the Tigh-Na-Mara Resort in Parksville on Vancouver Island.

We were celebrating my birthday of a few weeks ago at an event called Swirl,

as in swirling wine in a glass,

or swirling about the room sampling the wares

from 50 BC wineries 

while at the same time nibbling on delectables, savory and sweet, prepared by numerous local chefs. 

It was serious business, demanding a great deal of concentration and dedication to the task at hand.

There was as much variety in people's attire as there was in food and wine.

Some went all out in their get-ups, possibly even delving into their closets for their old prom dresses.

and definitely garnering some attention.

Warm embraces and bootilicious hugs were observed here...

as well as there.

For three full hours the food and wine kept on being served.  I stuck with the red wines while my sister sampled the whites but we both dipped our sticky fingers into all of the pots of food, except for the oysters as she had once had an unfortunate experience with them and I just find them repulsive.

There was a  rather good jazz trio providing an excellent ambiance and good old standards.

At least, I think there were three of them.

As the evening wore on and the wine continued to go down, things got a little hazy,

if not downright out of focus.

Fortunately all we had to do was stagger swagger through the brisk night air back to our cozy rustic suite where we slept soundly, soothed by the sound of the roaring surf (unless that was my sister that I heard snoring from her bedroom as I lay in my Murphy bed?) and visions of sugar plums Asian spice ganache balls swirling in our heads.