Looks like I'm not in Lotus Land any more, but some would have it that I've returned to Paradise.

 

My cohort, Pierre, kept himself very busy tending his garden during the two months that I was out west and now I get to savour the fruits...er...veggies of his labours. 

Here's a sight I didn't see out in Vancouver too often...

or ever.

And here's a scene I never get tired of trying to photograph, out walking along the lake road.

 I'm back in the hills, back in the maritimes, back in blogland.

I just have to get my ass act in gear!

On the Street Where I Live

One of the reasons I appreciate being able to walk to and from my (very) occasional job is the chance to admire the view...whenever I remember to stop and do so.

Actually, this is pretty much the view from the front of our house, zoomed in on.  That's the Peticodiac River, also known as the Chocolate River because of the fine silt that gets stirred up in it as the tides wash it in and out from the Bay of Fundy.

On the opposite side of the previous view we have the always fascinating car lot of Snider's Garage which is an endless source of photo ops for a rust & oddities-lover such as myself...but more on that another time.

Well, okay, here's a taste just to whet your appetite.

Moody Moment

End of day, and the moment is wrapped in a golden glow

The sky becomes a dramatic background 

for sun-glazed branches

and even an abandoned house, bereft of love, feels the warmth of the sun's brief kiss.

I had to grab my camera this evening and lean out my studio window to capture the brilliance of the moment.

Snow is in the forecast for the morning so it's best to savour the sun while one can.

Gravely Speaking

One day last week it was actually sunny and I was tempted to take my camera out of mothballs and take a few pot shots at village life.  Or death, as it were...

The Baptist cemetery on Main Street has graves dating to the early 1800s, many sadly falling to ruin.
The wrought iron fence was just managing to keep its head above the dirty snowline.

The rounded tops of the gravestones resemble

cookie-cutter shaped people.

There's an intriguing gap in the fence. 

I was standing on my tip-toes to get this photo, the snow pile being almost taller than me,

and the cemetery being on a higher level than the street.

Here's the gravestone that's visible through the gap ,

marking the passing of William Francis,

infant son of William and Mary Terylor in 1838.

Many believe that loved ones will all be reunited after death.

There are people who can talk to the dead

and bring messages back of hope and healing for those left behind. 

There are people who are able to see ghosts that are still walking this plane.

But only bones and those memories and sentiments that we bring with us

when we visit the graveyard linger there;

the spirits have moved on.

*

(Thanks to the Vintage Moth for family image)

Abandoned

There is an abandoned house in our village.  It has been gradually decaying since we moved here 20 years ago.  At the beginning, we had many dreams about what we might do with it. 

But now, all we dream of is that it fall down under the weight of snow and wind in the near future.

It does, nevertheless, provide me with images that are fun to experiment with...

some of which I might even describe as haunting...

Wildflowers

On my near-daily walks, I often follow what is known locally as the lake road. 

This is my favourite view over the fields that line the road.

Soft golden grasses recall the rays of the summer sun (not that we saw much of it this year).

 

 The bullrushes, or cattails, have gone to seed now, all exploded fluff drifting on the wind like furry fairies.  I was surprised to learn from my Environment prof (long ago) that bullrushes can be ground to make flour.  Cattail bread?  Maybe not.

These must be the tiny nests wherein the fairies dwell, and the lace with which they fashion their wings.

Wildflowers or weeds, what's in a name? In early autumn days, these are the plants that line the ditch along the lake road.  Or, they did, until last week when they were mown down.

Blue: straight out of camera; Pink: adjusted in Photoshop

Now probably I "should" know what these sweet little lavender blue posies are called.  But I'm really not very good at being able to put names to plants, and anyway, I subscribe to the philosophy that there is no such thing as "should."

It was a very windy day and I planned to come back to get close-ups of these flowers but on my next walk, they'd already been cut down by the village road crew, for reasons best known to them, although I suspect it has something to do with a pay cheque. 

So, instead of close-ups, I offer up a painterly version of this particular roadside attraction.

And while I'm at it, I 'll take the opportunity to contribute this to Bonnie's Photo Art Friday.

I encourage you to take a virtual stroll through the gallery there of artistically rendered photos from bloggers all over the world.  It's a great way to feast your eyes, soothe your soul, and find inspiration for your own picture making.

I wish you happy trails, wherever your feet may roam!

Have You Had Enough Yet?

It's been wonderful getting so many appreciative comments about the snow photos I've been posting, but as the village locals are remarking to each other in the street, "Have you had enough snow yet?" 

This gives a new connotation to the word "snowmobile,"  as well as some idea as to the amount of snow that has fallen.

 The local hardware store is taking on the look of a catherdral pipe organ with its display of icicles.

The village dress shop is having a bit of trouble keeping its window displays visible behind the mounds of snow, but the sidewalk and stairs are always kept hopefully cleared.

I believe the folks who own the old-time garage, seen below, have climbed a ladder to the roof and are sending signals to their home planet to beam them back.

Either that, or they're participating in the latest winter craze of shovelling one's roof.

Our friends' house is sporting some jaunty epaulettes these days,

while their barn wears a white toque, softly detailed with an organic design knitted in a tender charcoal hue.

But I think we should hurry home for some hot chocolate, or maybe something a little stronger, because--guess what--another blizzard is on its way!  Ah well, at this point, what's another 30 centimetres?

Blizzard Warning in Effect!

Today:
Cloudy. Snow beginning this afternoon. Amount 2 to 4 cm. Wind southwest 20 km/h becoming light near noon. High plus 2.
Tonight:
Snow at times heavy and blowing snow. Risk of freezing rain over southern sections late this evening. Amount 30 cm. Wind becoming northeast 30 km/h gusting to 50 this evening then northwest 50 gusting to 90 after midnight. Low minus 11.
Saturday:
Snow and blowing snow ending in the morning then clearing. Amount 2 cm. Wind northwest 50 km/h gusting to 90 becoming west 40 gusting to 70 in the morning then diminishing to 20 in the evening. High minus 10.

A House on a Hill

The village I live in is very hilly;  therefore, many houses sit atop many different hills.

This particular old farmhouse sits on the hill opposite my friends' house, and it has a barn right beside it to house the cows that make it a working farm.  After having lived in this village for going on 18 years now, I am still amused to walk or drive down Main Street and pass by a herd of cows.  However, there was no sign of the cows today.  I suppose they're kept in the barn during the snowy winter months. 

This gives you an idea of how it looks in the falling snow.  I understand that when movie-makers need to make snow scenes and the weather is not co-operating, they use potato flakes.  Yup, a few tons of potato flakes falling from the sky and blown around by huge wind machines.  Look closely at those snowy movie scenes and you'll notice that the snow flakes that fall on the actors' hair and clothing never melts.  I wonder if the stuff is scooped back up and repackaged for grocery or restaurant shelves.  Instant mashed potatoes or instant snow, it's optional.  The province I live in is a big potato producer.  I mean, it grows a lot of potatoes of varying sizes, not all necessary big.  No potatoes were harmed here today in the making of this picture.

This is a view of that house as seen from beside/behind/below, across the fields.  I like the grouping of the buildings and their weathered facades, as well as the higgledy-piggedly lines of fence-posts that appear like pencil marks on a plain white page.

Here we get a wider view of the farmhouse hill and see that it sits across the street from the United Church, which are always very simple, non-ornate, usually clapboard structures in the Maritimes. 

It was a welcome relief to see and feel sunsine today, as well as the lack of blowing wind, and we took advantage of it to get out for a good long walk with friends.  I thought I'd share a bit of it with you here.

It is, by the way, snowing again tonight.  Real snow.  Not potato flakes.

Goin' Nowhere Fast

Ever feel like you're stuck in a rut, or getting nowhere in life?  Spinning your wheels, if you've even got wheels.

These cars are fixtures on the main street of the village where I live.  Their owner has a newer model that he still drives.  I guess his old cars just have too many fond memories to let them go.  Maybe his wife collects salt shakers or china poodles and this is his own sort of collection.  As the man in question is the proprietor of Snider's Garage, he has the place to proudly display them.  Main Street is his own version of the curio cabinet or kitchen shelf.

They also make excellent planters.

For some reason, there are a lot of these cars still on the road in the village.  Maybe Mr. Snider had an Oldsmobile dealership at one time. There's one older fellow that I see every evening parked in the empty lot in front of the hardware store, sitting in his Olds with his window rolled down, wearing his baseball cap, watching the comings and goings on Main Street and waiting for friends and acquaintances to drive up and have a chat with him.  Kind of like drive-through visits, I guess.  Maybe his house is such a mess he doesn't want anyone to come over. 

Or maybe he's embarrassed by how much his wife's salt & pepper shakers collection has gotten out of hand.

It's a big mystery to me.  But I can certainly relate to the feeling of getting nowhere in a hurry, stuck inside an Oldsmobile with the Memphis blues again.





imMobile Homes

What's your take on this sort of rustic building?

Quaint?  Countrified?  Charming?  Neglected?  Atmospheric?  Ramshackled?




Somebody's dream house? 








Let's stand back to get the big picture...

If we could jack this baby up and slide some sort of axle between the wheels (assuming there's a matching set on the other side), we could have ourselves a genuine mobile home! 

This one, on the other hand, is more of the downwardly mobile variety, wouldn't you say?

Paint, Pixels, a Porch and a Pooch

House painting for me is perhaps not quite what it is for most. 
For example, when I start out with something like this

I may decide I want to put some "Orton style" touch-ups to it

-kind of like air-brushing, without the air or the brush-

I might decide to try to change the hue completely

-still a bit of the underpainting showing through.  Guess a couple more coats needed here.

Maybe I'll tone things down a bit.

Do you ever have a project that sits there awaiting your attention for so long that it gets to looking a little neglected and run down?

Seems to happen all the time with me.

I set out this morning to tell you about the place where I met Harry the Dog a few weeks ago, as mentioned in my last post.

And this is indeed where I met him.  At the front door of that building I was messing about with in the above pictures.  See?  There was reason to my ramblings.

Harry is the official greeter at the local u-pick.

We went there to pick raspberries, but more on that another time.

Right now I've got to get back to my house painting.