Kicking back

Been laying low ...

one moment at a time as they say while

my wonky tooth figured out what was gonna happen next.

I suppose one advantage to having a root canal during tulip season

is that driving to and fro across the Skagit valley

is nothing short of   splendid

and although I'm allergic to a large number of antibiotics

at least I am not allergic to Novocaine.

A  not-so-small blessing

that has kept me sane.

I stitched on the wishing cloth awhile

because there was calm in that

and admired the sea reflections having dance time in the belly of the boat.

But mainly I swooned over spring,

the miles of GLORIOUS color,

and although I won't be doing much of anything besides

watching my own grass grow the next couple of days

at least I tip-toed amongst them.

[apology to Tiny Tim for the lame reference]

What a surreal experience  ...  being ruled by a measly tooth.

: : :

See you a bit later.

I'm heading for the hammock.

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Wearing her flouncy June dress ...

I really shouldn't be sitting here writing a post

when there is a mountain of work to be done out in the garden

but

it's a little rainy today and she was looking so nice in the subdued light,

I just had to make a record ... for posterity ... now, while the early summer blooms

are looking their best.

I'll want to remember the garden dressed up like this

when the January winds blow hard and long.

Hope for the future and all that ...

She's laden now, positively falling over with her big skirts,

spilling over the wall with self-seeded abandon,

filling every nook and cranny

offering up some feasting for the hummingbirds

and catmint landing platforms for the swallowtails.

I think there's still an arbor under there - but I dare you to try & make it through to the front door.

Gone a bit nutso, this shrub rose [when did THIS happen?] and she'll have to be

reined in for next season.  Still, something charming about 

this wild misbehavior ...

If you did make it through the arbor, you'd be be met with a frothy tangle  -  sweetly scented

Philadelphus scrambling through a purple-leaved Clematis recta ...

Oh June, you are a month of the sublime.

Thank you.

You are most definitely your own English rose

... no other month quite compares to you.

A few late afternoon rays help 'Night Owl' flaunt her petticoats.

And although I'm starting to feel terribly guilty about undone chores,

I feel so grateful for this abundance.

Sometimes you just have to stop and, well, you know ...

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The sweet smell of ... hollyhocks?

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Explosions of white

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Bliss and grunge...

As it happens sometimes, I found myself playing around with some images

without any particular direction in mind
or intent...
other than, perhaps, the intent to avoid "pretty flower" photos.

Do you ever feel that way...unable to stomach one  M O R E  beautiful posy picture?

No offense meant, it's just that I need to be heading somewhere else at the moment...

away from literal and more towards how a scene *feels*...

Without a doubt my garden makes me feel blissed-out, especially at this time of year
near high summer, when all the plants are busting out of themselves in vegetative exuberance.
Then, there's all that late evening light
putting its own dramatic spin on what's going on out there...

but there's more to it and its hard to explain...

I add grunge (funny photo term) to what might be "a pretty scene" while I ask myself, why?  

What I realize is,

I'm doing the same thing with image making 

that I do with cloth and stitch and beads:

trying to tell a story.

And with any kind of storytelling,

sometimes it's just better to leave out some of the obvious.

There's a mini-revolution happening at the moment and although I'm not much of a "joiner," 

I'll readily admit to my voluntarily participation in the phone photography revolution.

I happen to think it is one of  the most  freeing

(as in, getting unstuck OR finding a way to express oneself in the first place) 

forms of creativity out there...so accessible to so many,

no rules, shoulds or shouldn'ts...

just a fantastic way to play with light and color and special effects that will

 rock your grandma right outta her traditional chair.

Here's a wee example of just how much change can happen...

This is a straight shot right from my phone camera.

No tweaking, no alterations of any kind.
High noon, hideous light, super contrasty...boring.

Here's (maybe) a not so boring interpretation with some vintage effects and old-timey blurs.
Leaves a little something to the viewer's imagination

and for now, that suits me just fine.

: : :


If you happen to be in a similar artistic mindset, may I suggest a worthwhile read...
Nicola Taylor wrote something today over on the Shutter Sisters blog
and her title sums it up splendidly:  on finding your own way...
Nicola left her career as a stockbroker and not believing she had any creative voice at all
made a life-changing discovery to the contrary.
In her words:
"It's one of those magical things that happens when you just let go
and allow the story to have an ending you didn't envision."
Read her heartfelt post  HERE.

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Texture Tuesday...sometimes, storm is the only way

thunderstorming

Call me lazy.  Call me predictable and cliche and overused.

Bypass these lines if your currency is nuance, if what moves you

are the minimalist gestures, if the threads of the crosshatch seams in the couch

are geographies you'd prefer for your treasure.  I can't help it.

That splinter of sky, that divisive, decisive crack, fractured something loose,

broke and birthed it all at once.  Sometimes, change is a jagged-toothed animal,

tearing the "was" out so fast my head spins, and I watch, almost drunk,

from the window as the whole earth luminesces, shaking a raw hunger

out of my bones.  Sometimes, storm is the only way to stillness, the great shaking.

How the feral animals run for home.  How even the trees bow down.

by Maya Stein

: : : :

Reprinted with kind permission from Maya Stein, who has been writing these treats

for the senses each week...a series she calls, 10-line Tuesday...

again, I thank her for the inspiration that prompted today's image.

Please do read more from her collection over here...

and her blog, one paragraph at a time, is about just that...

"looking at life one paragraph at a time."

: : : :

Linking up this week for another Texture Tuesday over at Kim's place.

Our challenge?  The "posie edition"...

check out the flower floozie awesomeness going on over THERE....

so much inspiration!

Techie mumbo-jumbo:

Shot with my DSLR, cropped & tweaked in iPhoto, then taken into FX Photo Studio Pro

where I added a Socorro effect; next into PSE, added 2 layers of Kim's texture, abstract,

soft light @ 80% + screen @ 15%

a wee bit of minor erasing & sharpening,

re-cropped,

added copyright.

Till next time, my friends...

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Texture Tuesday...that kind of faith

These beauties were not growing naturally on my land although at one time, there were multitudes

 found growing on these islands.  No, I planted these bulbs a couple of years ago

when I held high hopes for cultivating a native wildflower meadow.

These camassia were as far as I got.

So it goes.  Not unlike so many things.

Still, they make me SO happy.  The clumps are thriving, the bees love them, they add stature

to the garden when it's still a bit early for anything else

and they require zero maintenance or attention....

the perfect recipe for garden plants, if you ask me.

: : :

It's another Texture Tuesday over at Kim's place.  Do pop in over there and check out the creativity

from the texture-loving crowd...better yet, join in with us.  So much inspiration!

For today's photo I used two of Kim's textures...'grunged up 2' and 'yesteryear.'

: : :

Besides TT, the other really cool thing that happens on this day each week is 

Maya Stein's 10-line Tuesday.

I've been following her for awhile now...she is, oh, so good...

each week, a new poem in my mailbox...more inspiration.

And somehow she always gets me thinking past whatever is holding me up.

Here's what arrived today:

the juggler

At some point, of course, your own stamina will fail, and the rhythm

you began with will splinter, then collapse.  But that first belief that thrust

your hands in motion - I want to say something about that.  This was not some whim

or fantasy of epic talent.  It was your cells talking, trust

threading your very bones, your hopes held high as clouds.  That kind of faith

is untouchable, regardless of all those balls tumbling earthward.  Remember

where you started, those inklings that led you to practice your lofty art

on a busy sidewalk, color pinwheeling around.  That's the necessary ember,

the tiny fire churning,

your naked courage daring you to sing.

: : :

Till next time, my friends.

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Desperately seeking flowers...

Found some.

{{{  big grin about the size of Texas  }}}

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