Picture, Picture on a Blog

Forest Song

2015-03-18T16:40:00.000-07:00

Nathan Dumalo Photography www.nathandumlaophotos.com was kind enough to allow me to use this beautiful image which inspired a small poem; something I haven't tackled in years. Thank you Nate, your work is beautiful.

I dream of green

Wooded places
Full of ferns and mud
Shrouded in mist and fog
Where silence and song happen all at once with
The whisper of pine needles
The scuttle of bugs
The rustle of paws on peat

Full of light and shadow and life
From roots to tree tops
With passage between these worlds
On padded foot moving soft

Slow through trees thick with moss seeking
The rattle of woodpecker
The grace of deer
The stealth of fox

Fullness and emptiness live here in perfect harmony.

Waterside

2015-02-23T19:28:00.002-08:00

I blame a clear lack of discipline for my huge lapse in posts.
I am not gonna lie though, this photo stumped me for a long time!
Thanks for the pic, JD, and I am sorry it took me so long.

He childishly refused to look up from the stones he was sifting through, pretending that they were the most interesting geological specimens he has ever seen - like he would even know what a geological specimen even was.

I looked out over the water sparkling in the sunshine. This was an indian summer for sure, still warm though the sun was setting. My thoughts ruefully went back to when we first started coming here, hanging out with all our friends. We would spend hours together sun up to sun down. Then suddenly, he and I were a couple. Inseperable.

I hate that we came here now.

I tried to make conversation, “Do you remember how much time we used to spend here? Do you miss those summers?”

“Not really. It was fun, but I have outgrown this place now.” I took his reply personally.

In my head, I felt the exact opposite. I wished our lives had nothing more complicated than worrying about mosquito bites and sunburns. I disliked that me wishing for that made me suddenly feel immature and petty. As a result, anger started to grow inside of me, spewing out a slew of retaliations like lava rolling out of a volcano, “So I haven’t grown? So have you outgrown me just like this place? How can you be so haughty? Who are you now? It’s like I don’t even know you!”

Outside of my head, I said nothing, and likely appeared calm to him if he actually bothered to look at me. Instead, I ventured, “I feel this may be the last time we come here.”

He rose and started to skip stones across water that he had gathered. Small, skittering round shadows disturbing the dancing waves and interrupting their choreography.

He finally replied, “You may be right, though this place will always be with us, I think.” He turned and looked at me, smiling. This place isn’t tarnished for him like it is for me, and I cannot bear to ruin it him. I smile back, hoping he doesn’t see any sadness in my eyes. I am not sure when I will be return to Waterside, but it will never be with him again.

Equinox

2010-09-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

This photo was provided by Durell, who writes her own blog: Breath, Relax & Empower

Lilijune walked down the street with her mother, Sabine. It was dusk; the sun had almost set. Sabine carried a knapsack with a wool blanket, a few flashlights, some snacks, and a thermos of hot chocolate made with warm almond milk, organic cocoa powder, and a hint of maple syrup.

It was a crisp, clear autumn evening, and once the sun had set, it would be chilly in this small seaside town. Lilijune and Sabine were bundled in lots of layers, though, and toques and mittens were packed in the knapsack as well.

Officially, it wasn't autumn until 8:09 p.m. in their time zone; tonight was the Autumn Equinox, and that was a pretty big deal to Sabine and Lilijune. This was Lilijune’s favourite time of year. For as long as Lilijune could remember, she and her mom celebrated the Autumn Equinox. They marked the earth shifting into perfect balance with a small annual celebration. They also celebrated Spring Equinox, but Lilijune preferred autumn’s.

It was only 7:30; they were making their way to the celebration site: a courtyard on the city’s university campus where they were meeting some other friends.

Lilijune lived alone with her mother. At ten years old, she understood that her household wasn’t quite like everyone else’s. Sabine worked hard to provide for Lilijune and also strove to instill her values in her daughter. Sabine was vegan, so there was none of the typical junk food in their home, and they didn’t own a t.v. Lilijune wasn't drawn to the usual things other ten-year-olds seemed interested in.

Because they depended on fruits and vegetables as their main source of food, they were very sensitive to what was seasonally available and what wasn't. Sabine felt it was important for her daughter to stay in touch with nature and understand that balance and working in harmony with the planet was a better way to live. By trade, Sabine was an herbalist and always had a kitchen full of dried plants hanging upside down from the ceiling and windows, herbs growing on the window sills and in their garden, and one concoction or another brewing on the stove for her clients.

Lilijune didn't begrudge her mother's teachings. In fact, Lilijune was VERY aware of how weird and wonderful nature could be. Lilijune realized at a young age that she didn't see the world the same way everyone else did - she had the inexplicable ability to see more.

As they entered the campus, Lilijune saw out of the corner of her eye something rustling in a shrub as they passed it on the path. Most people would assume that it was a rabbit or a raccoon, but Lilijune never assumed anything.

The courtyard looked like a festive autumn wonderland when they arrived. The campus kept the street lamps lit, and the other visitors lit candles and placed them all over on windowsills and along the path. Colourful wool blankets were laid out on the lawn, looking like a giant quilt in the dim lighting. Many people greeted Sabine and Lilijune with words of welcome and smiling faces. This was not some crazy event with mysterious pagan rituals or cryptic messages; people would simply gather, sing songs, and then meditate quietly for the minute when the Equinox shifted into place.

It was almost time. It was cold enough now that you could see your breath. Toques and mittens time. Lilijune and Sabine blew into the beam of their torch to see their breath make a small patch of fog in the light. As the Autumn Equinox came again, Lilijune closed her eyes and thought back to when the magic began for her one year ago on a night just like this.

The Terrible Foster Sisters

2010-09-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

This photo was submitted by Haley, author of the blog Foodie Beauty

“After drinking a couple of martinis, this stairway may change from impressive to downright dangerous,” Chloe said to her best friend, Mandy. It was easy to glide down the beautiful tiled spiral staircase that landed in a decorative lobby which made the stairs its focal point. They were headed for the trendy lounge located on the main floor of the boutique hotel to toast their weekend together.

“Haha yeah, good thing they have washrooms on the main floor,” laughed Mandy.

The girls were on their way to meet their other best friend, Monique, who was already in the lobby waiting for them. They were all staying at the hotel together for a girls’ weekend. As Chloe and Mandy reached the bottom of the staircase, they quickly spotted and waved to Monique who was standing by the lounge entrance. They all grinned as they each felt their stomachs leap in excitement. These childhood friends did not get to see each other often, but every time they reunited time seemed to stand still and they just picked up right where they left off from their last meeting. All in their mid-twenties, these young ladies were each finding their fortune in different cities; they swore that they would never lose touch with each other, and met when they could.

This weekend away was in impromptu plan that was hashed together when Monique realised that she had a week-long business trip scheduled here in Seattle. Monique decided that three more days in this beautiful city with her best friends was just what she needed to decompress from the endless meetings she had all week in conference rooms. Both Chloe and Mandy arrived today on separate flights; Mandy from Denver, and Chloe from Vancouver. Monique resided in Toronto when she is not travelling for work.

As they were seated in lounge, the three friends were already giggling and laughing with one another. Looking fantastic, they caught the attention of almost all the other guests in the lounge. Each girl was pretty, stylish, and currently buoyant with confidence. It was rare that when these three gathered together they didn’t attract attention.

Their order of dirty martinis arrived promptly, “To a fabulous weekend together!” cried Chloe as they all clinked glasses.

“The Terrible Foster Sisters have never looked better!” added Mandy.

These girls were not biological sisters, yet they were so inseparable growing up that they earned the collective nickname. “Foster” was the street in their home town that the three most frequently haunted together. The “Terrible” part of the name was not based on them having a wicked nature, but rather that they were so tight they always seemed to be in on an inside joke, or knew something that no one else did and were unwilling to share it. Not to mention that when together they did on occasion manage to stir up a bit of trouble. Fortunately though the trouble was mostly harmless with no disastrous results.

This stop in the lounge was only the beginning: they were ready for an evening of dining, dancing, and serious flirting with whatever attracted their attention for a few moments. Although they would maximize their time together tonight, they still needed to reserve some energy for tomorrow to do some serious shopping, and more festivities tomorrow night. On Sunday they would have to part ways again to their respective cities.

As they were only halfway through their first round of drinks, their server arrived with more martinis for them, “Compliments of the gentlemen at the table in the corner,” the waiter said, smiling. He nodded his head towards a group of businessmen who raised their glasses to the girls. Oh yes, this weekend would be full of fun!

Edward's Garden

2010-09-14T01:00:00.000-07:00

This picture was submitted by Rebecca W., who also writes a blog that you can find here: Live completely, Love always, Laugh often

Edward picked some dead flowers off a lavender plant to allow room for new spikes to grow. He crushed the plucked stems in his hand, brought them to his face and inhaled deeply; enjoying the pungent perfume that the lavender emitted. Opening his eyes, he scanned over the garden, looking for other plants that required his attention. Very little did, the garden looked fantastic. At this time of year, the garden was at its peak for blooms. He could see bees busily harvesting the nectar from the lavender plants, and could hear grasshoppers and birds chirping happily in the shade farther into the garden.

Recently retired as the chief horticulturalist for this garden, Edward still liked to come here and visit. Although he knew it was no longer his responsibility to tend the garden, his nature was still to peruse it for imperfections. The garden was in good hands though, Edward mentored the new chief horticulturalist for years and freely left it in the care of much younger and more enthusiastic gardeners. He was just happy that he was still a welcome visitor, and that they valued his input from time-to-time when he noticed a plant that required some extra attention.

Edward saw that there were lots of people here today visiting the garden on this hot, sunny afternoon. This garden was in a rural area, nestled between hobby farms and small acreages. The garden was not easy to get to; most visitors arrived by car. It made him happy that people took the time to come here.

Now that Edward was retired, he replaced his gardening tools with paint brushes, and often used the plants in this garden as his subjects. He dabbled with painting for years at the encouragement of his family doctor who thought the painting would be good for him. Little did he realize that Edward would develop a quiet passion for it, and not a small measure of talent. Now that he had more free time, Edward enjoyed spending hours standing in front of an easel instead of kneeling with his hands in the earth. The staff here at the garden seemed to enjoy when Edward came with with his canvases, brushes, paint kit, and easel; as a former employee they still never charged him for admittance and would often come over to look at his work and chat with him.

Edward wasn’t painting today though. He was here for another reason. The city’s horticulturist community invited Edward here today to plant a tree in honour for his years of service. In a newly cleared field that was a recent addition to the garden, Edward’s peers planted a Sequoia tree, one of the longest living and tallest trees in the world. This tree will thrive in its native west coast environment, and will be the centrepiece of the garden as they plan to landscape around its circumference. As Edward approached the new tree though, he was surprised to see that they had already fenced in the area where the Sequoia was planted. His friends and family were all gathered inside the fence line, waiting for him to arrive. As they saw him, everyone smiled and cheered. Only then did Edward notice the sign posted at the entrance to the new green space which read, “Edward’s Garden”.

Crystal, Songs and Chandeliers

2010-09-07T01:00:00.000-07:00

This photo is from my lovely friend, Ryan Mayer. He is an extremely talented graphic designer and artist! You can check out his studio here:http://bluehaus.com/

Wanda stared at the chandeliers on the ceiling as she had her head in a sink at the hair salon, having it washed by her chatty hairdresser, Crystal.

“... and then she actually went out with the guy anyway!”, cried Crystal. Wanda wasn’t paying enough attention to Crystal to be certain who she was talking about, but guessed that it was likely the usual topic of Crystal’s rants: Crystal’s roommate, Tina. Fortunately, Crystal didn’t require her captive audience to provide any evidence that they were listening; she would continue to buzz away like a fridge until you interrupted her (and even then, an interruption was no guarantee to stop her from talking).

Unlike what you may expect a person with a name like Wanda to look like, Wanda was, in fact, gorgeous. She had the classic all-American looks of a cheerleader with a slim build, golden skin, and lovely blonde hair. However, due to Wanda’s particular tastes, her hair was cropped in an asymmetrical cut with pink tips. Her outfit was not cheerleader-like either; unless you considered that her skirt was about the same length as a cheerleaders uniform, made only slightly less risqué with jet-black opaque tights, and Mary Jane pumps with four inch heels.

Wanda relaxed as Crystal gave her one her world-famous scalp massages. She was only in for a cut today, so it was straight to the chair after this. Wanda savoured this time by closing her eyes and zoning into the music. Vampire Weekend’s, “Bryn”, happily chirped out of the speakers, “Oh Bryn! You see in the dark; Right past the fireflies that sleep in my heart...” Wanda smiled. She liked this album, and liked that the salon was playing a groovy remix of this song. Some people went shopping when they were tense; Wanda’s stress-reliever was chopping her hair off. She is Crystal’s best client.

Today’s stress-release haircut was the result of work. Wanda has a new boss. Wanda worked at a trendy clothing boutique, and has a great rapport with the clientele. Her success is partly to do with the fact that she has great taste (which frankly wasn’t difficult to have in her store), but mostly it is because she is honest (but tactful) with customers when they are trying on clothes. Her previous boss valued Wanda enough to let her cherry-pick her hours, take her breaks whenever she wanted, and even let her give input on possible clothing lines and items that the store purchased for selling. Wanda didn't consider herself high-maintenance, but she had grown used to the small perks that she had earned, and, her previous boss mentioned the possibility of creating a new position for her as the store’s fashion consultant, which would have meant a nice little raise and the opportunity for Wanda to get even more creative.

All that, however, has changed. The new store manager did not see any value in a fashion consultant position, “We should all be fashion consultants,” Sonja (her new boss) quipped. She also didn't think it was fair that Wanda got preferential treatment in regards to her shifts.
“Consider the optics,” Sonja said, “How does it look to have one person working whatever time she likes, while everyone else has to work around her schedule?” Wanda thought it looked pretty fucking-fantastic, from her point of view.
But this brought up a possible issue that she never considered before: did her co-workers felt slighted? No one said anything to her, and she got along well with everyone she worked with... or did she? If someone complained, she would have liked to know if only to have had the opportunity to speak with them privately and work it out. It hurt her feelings to think that her own co-workers with whom she worked so closely couldn't have confided in her.
Wanda asked Sonja if anyone complained about the scheduling, but got a non-answer, “The issue is not if someone complained, but the fact that there are circumstances that could potentially be complained about,” Sonja replied. Right.
So... into the chair we go! Wanda decided to go a little more radical and is having one side of her closely cropped - shaved actually, with longer bits on the top to dangle over it. Some of the pink tips would disappear, but that was okay - it would likely lead to a colour change at her next appointment in a few weeks. Wanda had absolutely no concerns about how the hairstyle would look when it was finished; Crystal was an unbelievable hairstylist... even if she did talk your ear off while making your hair into a masterpiece.

Wanda contemplated her predicament while watching Crystal get to work on her new coif. Clearly she had to prove herself all over again with her new boss. Ground zero. Zero is exactly what she felt like. Wanda knew that she didn’t have the best job in the world, but took immense pleasure in her work. She could have had loftier aspirations, but liked the perks of cheap clothing and getting to talk all day about fashion. Heck, they even had subscriptions to her favourite magazines at the store which they were encouraged to read as reference material for the season’s “must-haves” (How soon would it be before Sonja realized that the magazines were an unnecessary expense?). It irked her that she had to remind herself that she was good at her job.

Sadly, Wanda realized that this problem was going to take more than a new hairdo to work it out. In the meantime though, she tapped her toes to a remix of La Roux’s “Bulletproof”... “This time baby I’ll be bulletproof...”. Wanda hoped that would be the case in the weeks to come.

Pink Plume Purse

2010-08-24T01:00:00.000-07:00

“What the devil is that?” Hugo exclaimed as he came into the apartment and saw my new purse sitting squarely on the table like an exotic centrepiece.
“It’s a new purse that I bought for the party we’re going to this weekend.” I replied. Hugo said nothing, but sort of grunted instead. I couldn’t help but smirk to myself a little, but on the inside, of course.
Hugo was clearly still thinking about the pink, plumy mass that was sitting before us as he dropped his keys onto the table and took off his jacket. While he got settled after his day at work, I studied the purse for the hundredth time. This was a bossy little handbag. It demanded your attention whether you had the inclination to give any or not. The disarrayed pink feathers made me picture an indignant flamingo who couldn’t believe you were asking for its feathers in the first place, and so decided to run through brambles and a car wash before relinquishing its festive plumes for the purse.
I intentionally set the bag on the table so that I could continue to look at it, and possibly (okay, definitely) to gauge Hugo’s reaction when he was first introduced to it. Yes, an introduction was unquestionably needed for this accessory; “Hugo, this is Pink Plume Purse; Pink Plume Purse, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my other arm candy, Hugo”.
We both let the purse stay as a centrepiece as we performed our usual evening routine: making dinner, checking e-mail and messages, chatting about our day, etc... But every so often I would catch myself, and surprisingly, Hugo, glancing over at the handbag.
Over dinner, the handbag moved to a side-table, but remained as the centrepiece of our attention, “What are you going to wear with this?” asked Hugo, nodding towards the subject in question; and a valid question, it was. Normally a plain-Jane sort of dresser, this purse really came out of nowhere for me. In fact, as he asked that question I was questioning the sensibility of my spontaneous purchase.
The ambush of this accessory came to me today on my lunch break. My usual Tuesday routine is to grab a giant Greek salad from a local Mediterranean restaurant, then race back to the office and continue working while munching all afternoon. I merely glanced into one of the shop windows as I was headed back to the office when I saw it (Was Pink Plume Purse actually calling my name as I passed?!?); sitting proudly in the store-front window on a pedestal was this delightful little handbag looking girly, pretty, fun and regal all at the same time. I had to investigate further. Needless to say, it took me less than five minutes to drop an unseemly amount of money on this little delight; a fact that Hugo has yet to discover, thank you shopping gods.
“I think I will play it safe and just wear a plain little black dress. I think this bag will do all the talking for me.”
“Sounds sensible“, Hugo replied, “just make sure you don’t have to buy shoes as well.”