When I think of the best documentaries of chaos, I think American Pickers and some of the hoarders they visit. Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of hoarders. The closest I can come to chaos is the old church in Delaware that begs for restoration.
There is so much work here to create order from chaos. I wonder whether the organization raising money for restoration will ever reconstruct order from chaos. In order to document this building, I journeyed beyond the road, even ventured past the caution barricade and the quick snapshot. I used my Canon XTi Rebel and not my iPhone. The zoom lens creates higher quality photos than the iPhone.
With every passing day the chaos increases due to weather eroding the mortar that holds the structure together. If nothing happens to make the repairs, soon there will be nothing left standing. The weather is not the only force that erodes. Humans have already done their part in the building’s demise. They might continue the demolition work they started.
During the week I spent in Delaware in September, the weather treated the chaotic church kindly. The clouds threatened, but they did nothing but add charm to the old building. I captured these shots during the golden hour before sunset.
This scene looks like broken Humpty Dumpty to me, only it is the wall not the good old egg. To make it more menacing and artistic I could have darkened it and added filters, but I chose to document only and not become artistic.
What are some of your chaotic moments? Please share!
Photographers seek to mirror what they see, so in reality, whatever we photograph mirrors life as we see it. Now to dig deeper into the meaning of mirror.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
When he was a lad of 53, my husband pursued a quest for perfection. After twelve weeks, he achieved it. The card he gave me for Valentine’s Day reflected his pride. The card showed a young lover gazing into his loved one’s eyes. He asked his true love what she thought he could see reflected in her eyes.
(I imagined some romantic images intended to spark a romantic night.)
Inside the card read, “MYSELF…And damn, I look good.”
When this picture fell out of the card, I had to agree.
Had I gazed into his oiled body, I might have seen myself reflected in it, but I doubt that I would have had the same reaction as he did when he looked into “my eyes!” I had not taken the 12-week challenge. 🙂
#Longwood Gardens #1
Reflections at Longwood Gardens
My favorite pictures mirror images that evoke emotion, the thrill, and satisfaction of capturing perfection at last for a millisecond.
This reflected at the Conservatory of Pierre Samuel du Pont, marked the mid-point of a perfect visit to Longwood Gardens. Pipe organ music just finished playing the background.
Passing through the glass doors Hal and I entered the water-lily space or garden of a million mirrors.
To be perfectly candid, I did not notice the mirror images until I looked at the Photo Challenge topic for this week when I got home. The sun got into the mirroring act providing a shadow image of one of the lilies.
While the flower on top is beautiful enough, if you look closely you can see the sky and a tree reflecting what a beautiful day it is in Kennett Square, PA at the Longwood Gardens. Only a couple of places revealed marred perfection. The Tropical Gardens magnified 84 degrees by 100% humidity to produce rivulets of reflecting power on my face, had you been there to gaze into it.
Hal asked me whether I had been to Longwood Gardens before.
When I told him, “No,” he reflected, “What awful tour guide have you had that has neglected this icon of Delaware and Pennsylvania.?”
“No one is perfect, Hal. Even the most dedicated tour guide,” I said mirroring his jocular self-accusation.
This visit was not too late to enjoy the beauty of these gardens mirrored in their watery beds.
It is difficult to discern where the mirroring starts and the underwater growth stops. These three Siamese models are stars of perfection.
Hal told one tourist that she could stand on a lily pad. I’m sure she objected, to his delight.
To prove his point, for Hal likes to be right, he brought along a picture of the young woman he had printed on his computer. True to his promise, she (or rather the picture which mirrored her) stood on the lily pad.
I don’t recommend standing on lily pads for the rest of us. We would surely break the serenity of the water necessary to produce this perfect lily pad reflection. To me, the lily pad looks like the perfect tray for party cupcakes for Alice and her Looking-Glass friends. What do you see reflected here?
Eventually, I will pack my bags and head home to Woodlake, CA. Reflections abound in this classic truck which came to our Woodlake Car Show, even though perfection may be amiss. The mirrors are present, as are the images. Do you see at least two reflections?
If so, please accept the star of Texaco as your reward.
Santa must have found of mirror image of that truck somewhere. This cargo vehicle boasts a mirror as well, but the mirror did not alert Santa to the visitor who knocked at his door. I wonder if Big Ben had been the mirror of perfection all year, or possibly he had been a little naughty and was pleading his case? We would have to ask the Three River’s artist, Nadi Spencer, who drew this picture.
If you headed up to Three Rivers this spring, you would find water in Kaweah Lake almost up to the road mirroring the hills. Last I heard the water level more accurately reflects our CA drought.
Nothing is as beautiful to a Californian than the reflection of a healthy water supply. We live in a beautiful country where every drop of stored water reflects life as well as the beauty you see in the water. Bravo Lake filled this winter.
Bonus reflection – my windshield. My mirror reflects more than just my camera and my beautifully painted red fingernails. It reflects the enormous number of people behind me who come to the Sequoia National Park to reflect on the beauty of our natural resources in America. On Memorial Day the line was five miles long. The line in June when I visited the Park with my brother was shorter.
Thank you to Y. Prior for mentioning me in her blog post on Mirrors.
For more reflections on the word mirror, click here.
The narrow road through the stout trees should have alerted us that the final challenge would narrow down ever further.
Sure enough. It did. Such a narrow passage, we had to fold in our mirrors.
If you are planning a trip to the Redwoods, the Northern California or Southern Oregon coast, you might be interested in more pictures of our road trip three years ago. To read about our Accidental Vacation click any of the links below. What started as a disaster ended up to be one of our favorite trips.
Cherries, sweet goodness, the joys and best of life
If the cherry is on top, all’s well that ends well, right? Life is a bowl of cherries. That is this week’s photo challenge, “cherry on top.” I tried to cherry pick the best photos from my 2016 collection that fit that description.
It was hot July 3rd in the Central Valley. As appointed photographer for the Kiwanis July 3rd Blast, I sought out interesting shots. Sure enough, here was the cherry on top.
She probably did not need to be coaxed to ride in the parade. In a few years, she will probably be Miss Woodlake.
At the Grand Opening of the Woodlake Valley Cultural Museum, we experience double-vision with this cherry-red cap. Maybe he is reading about the founding members of the Woodlake Lions.
The VIP opening of the Museum was a cherry topping experience for me. Here’s why.
My phone rang. I was about to step back into my tour bus in Hawaii. It was Carl Peden. We had never met, but he donated lots of artifacts to the museum from his time serving the White House as the pilot of Air Force One. On a whim, I asked him if he would be one of the speakers at the VIP opening. To my surprise, he agreed.
At the end of his speech he took off his jacket and handed it to our President, Rudy Garcia, for the Museum. What an electrifying end to his speech!
He proudly pointed out his name on the donor list to his relatives.
On President’s Day, two days later, he passed away. I think this event might have been the last cherry on his cake. We loved having him.
The Tulare County Agricultural Fair is the cherry of all ag festivals. Thousands of ag professionals come from all over the world to see cherries like the one pictured. They probably know what this machine does, too! I just think it’s pretty and red.
Cacti don’t bloom that often, but when they do, they give us a magnificent show. This cherry-picked this photo emerged out of hundreds during the Woodlake Botanical Gardens Berry Festival this May. Beware, do not try to eat it, though!
Las Vegas is hot year round compared to most places. Gelato seemed like the best option for dinner after hubby played a rousing hand of poker all day. Nourishing? Not really. A delicious end to a fun day? Definitely!
Though not overly thrilled with being the cherry in this picture, I was on cloud nine the week we were in Hawaii with my friends Carol, the Eternal Traveler from Australia, and Connie, my friend from TCOE, and their husbands.
You never know how it is going to work out when you put six people who have never traveled together on a week’s vacation, let alone six people, most of whom have never met in person. This Hawaiian trip was more than the icing on the cake. It was definitely the cherry on top!
We all look a little wind-blown. Make-up? Forget about it! Fun? You bet!
Huff, huff, huff! We made it to the top! My cherry-colored hat protected my face from frying in the sun, but held in the heat. Yes, I’m still smiling, but let’s sit down and have a nice cool drink, what do you think?
Near the end of the week, and we are still smiling, but I’m sad inside because it will end soon.
One week out of our lives, such a small chunk, but it leaves lasting memories as bright as cherries on a chocolate soda.
For more cherries, click the icon.
If you enjoyed this, be the cherry on my sundae and please share it. 🙂
Spare… What was your first thought? Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?
Much of the Central Valley of California drew its population from Dust Bowl migrants in the 1930s. These Okies and Arkies stayed and now many of them thrive harvesting crops like hay and alfalfa. The amount of food produced Elderwood, a community of about 120 people and thousands of acres of crops, groves, orchards, and cattle ranches, feed us and give us plenty to spare.
After a season of record-setting rainfall, the cattle will have enough feed to spare.
Neat stacks ready for storage will soon be picked up and transported to a more permanent location.
The stacker did not waste a spare moment moving these mountains of golden bales. Watch how it is done!
Loading finished, this hay bale machine loader, unloads at Hay Mountain and returns to fetch a new load before dark. He has about an hour to spare.
For more pictures and thoughts on the word spare click here.
In the Central Valley, spring is the most vibrant time, not only visually, but the way things smell as well. Summer and fall are hazy, Winter is foggy or rainy.
Red screams vibrant to me . Here are some beautiful examples of vibrant colors from the Bravo Lake Botanical Gardens. Their vibrant fragrances fill the air. Brought inside a small enclosed room, like my office at work, the scent almost overpowers me. But in the dining room, they perfume the entire house.Even the leaves are vibrant.Put on your most winning smile showing off your vibrant personality, and voila – your sweetie shows up with this. Sweet smells compliment vibrant colors, I smell the rich aroma of cup of French Vanilla coffee to go with this treat, don’t you? Put all these together and you see my dream Vibrant Valentine’s treat.
Alphabets ruled my life when I taught kindergarten. We had multiple pictures for every letter, and they dominated the decor. Letters are so prevalent in the decor of our lives today, I think I look past and through them now … unless they make me laugh!
Teachers are so accustomed to reading upside down, that sometimes they forget that they can actually read right-side up.
This must have been a page turner, and the reader couldn’t be bothered with directionality.
Sometimes it’s important to read ahead to learn about where you are going so that you don’t miss the things you might really enjoy.
Or you can read signs and wing it.
“Of course, I’m hungry. Let’s stop here!”
Speaking of reading, thanks Paula Terrill for telling me that you read all my posts, even if you don’t comment. It’s nice to know! 🙂 I write to be read. Don’t you?
For more thoughts about alphabets check out the Weekly Photo Challenge here.
What an appropriate topic for this week’s Photo Challenge. I don’t think much about being weightless, but I do think a lot about weight. I am not alone in that. The most popular New Year’s Resolution in the world is weight loss. Let it be known that I’m resolving right this second to lose weight. (Whew, glad that’s over!)
In our small town of Woodlake, California, the Kiwanis Club hosts a “Run for Hunger” event every April. Those of us who have plenty of food, lots of energy, and maybe a bit more weight than we want or need pay to run three miles around Bravo Lake to raise money to buy food to stock the Woodlake Food Pantry for those who don’t have enough food to eat.
Most of the contestants are fit. Kiwanis feeds them a pancake breakfast after they finish. No one ever turns it down! This quest for weight watching and keeping in shape begins early here in Woodlake, and is quite well dressed, wouldn’t you agree?
The idea of watching our weight is episodic worldwide. We engage in long never-ending periods of various exercises,
trying to remove the effects of depositing morsels of tastiness which take so little time to consume.
The trainer we had on our vacation in Hawaii suggested that the only way to lose weight is to pay attention to what we put into our mouths.
I was hoping there was another way, weren’t you?
Click here to see what other people have to share about weight and weightlessness.
We named her Pris. She was my baby for nine years, and we went everywhere together. She is my subject for this week’s WP Photo Challenge, Oops.
When her heart ruptured, I rushed her to the hospital and she underwent expensive heart replacement (hybrid battery) surgery, and we brought her home. Within just a few months she had another major attack, this time of her central nervous system (touch screen computer system). We took her back to the hospital, and the surgeons told us it would be $1,800 to put her back together correctly. I told Pris that was too much. She was not happy with me.
Her circulatory system was most affected by her central nerve damage. If she was cold we could press on the top of the screen to turn on the front and rear defroster even though the touchscreen buttons were on the bottom of the screen. If she had a hot flash, we could turn down the temperature of the air conditioner on the steering wheel, but her fan automatically came on full blast. (A real oops!) If we got tired of listening to her fan, we could turn it down by turning up the temperature on the steering wheel. That is not a problem in the winter, but when the outside temperature is 110 and her internal temperature is 130… (oops again)
We looked at cars for several weeks while Pris continued to limp along. She tried to tell us the end was near. She dropped her rear view mirror and left it dangling by its cord. Vince stuck it back on. She complained because it was loose and it rubbed her windshield every time I hit a bump, but I ignored her complaining. She got in a little accident when someone backed into her at a stop sign – or she snuck up to kiss the car. We weren’t sure which, but she had to have plastic surgery. Even with insurance her face lift cost us $500. She showed wear around the door where her insulation started to sag. I told Vince I wasn’t paying for any more plastic surgery. One minute Vince could live with her for a few more months. At other times I could. Both of us should have known better.
Meanwhile Pris got sicker and sicker. One day she turned on her red triangle with the flashing exclamation point. She had leaked out all her oil in 1,000 miles. She was on a 3,000-mile checkup instead of 5,000 miles after her heart surgery. Vince filled her with expensive oil, and she felt better. She turned off her red triangle. He took her to have her oil changed about 500 miles later. Friday, she told us she would not go one mile farther, and she turned on her red triangle again. A sign appeared on her touchscreen to put her into park.
Vince and I finally HAD to agree on a car to replace Pris. You can read about that in a earlier post. I could afford something at the Corolla level. I can’t tell you what he said about the Corolla because his son is proud of his. Vince told me I should get a Cruze when Pris started with her second episode. I could afford that without any help from him. Although I had drug my feet, I finally decided that a Chevy Cruze would work. We bought it after the shortest test drive in history. Vince wouldn’t even go along. He wanted to get on the way to go our Audi appointment, but almost any car he liked and some he didn’t – an Audi, , ATS, Fusion, or Volt would need his financial help. He wanted a Porsche, and that required all my contribution and then some. So he quickly agreed to the Cruze.
We brought Pris’s replacement home Friday, No name Chevy Cruze. Pris looked forlorn, but if Friday was sad, Saturday was worse. The dealer gave us $700 in trade for Pris – dead or alive. Vince drove her onto the tow truck. I couldn’t watch, but he took these pictures.
Then she drove away for the last time. The mailbox looks like her cross. She still looks good for her age – 9.5 years. Bye bye Pris. You were a good girl, and I love you. RIP
For more mistakes aka “WP Photo Challenge – Oops” click here.
Frank Lloyd Wright kept odd hours often working in the middle of the night and catching a cat nap during the day. He had a code so that his architectural students knew when they could approach him. If they spied him sleeping on the bed nearest his desk, they could approach and ask him a question.
If they looked in the window and spied him sleeping on the other bed. Eye y eye, they knew they had better stay out.
I found it difficult to spy the bed with all the reflections.
His wife’s open room allowed students to spy on her easily.
I hope you enjoyed spying on the very private life of America’s most famous and controversial architect and his fourth wife.
In only two months I’ve gotten so much better at it. When I started fighting Bob, I could barely tap him in the chest for 15 seconds. Now I can beat on him for a minute without being out of breath. (OK I exaggerate a LITTLE.)
I’ve learned to sock him in the solar plexus.
I can back arm him and thoroughly box his ears.
Two months ago my husband and I began training with our best friend’s daughter, Melissa, a five foot two powerhouse who has competed successfully in at least one national fitness competition. When we started I couldn’t plank, not for a second. Now I can hold still, not without a lot of groaning, for at least 30 seconds after doing two rounds of other serious exercises.
Some things I still can’t do. While V is doing serious pull-ups, I’m stretching trying to hang from a bar without pulling anything up. I still have to have my tippy toes on the ground, though, and even that hurts. the other day I stretched out with my feet on the ball and my hands clenching a couple of hanging rings. I swear I lifted my body about an eighth of an inch. I was so proud I called over to Melissa to watch.
But put me behind a pair of rope handles, and I can drive those ropes into submission. Melissa tells V to watch my great form. I am so proud.
So what does all this violence do for our bodies? Melissa says our core will get stronger. So far I have only gained weight – about 4-5 pounds. My clothes still fit , and my body still looks roly poly in the mid-section, but I’m definitely able to do more harm to Bob that I ever thought possible, and that’s a treat!
BTW, I thought Melissa named Bob after her dad, but everyone on YouTube seems to call him Bob, and here I thought I was pounding “Bob,” (which I would never have dared in real life!) 🙂
We looked forward to our vacation in Sedona for weeks, and we’ve already been home for two days. What happened?
Sights seemed clear enough when we were there. We stopped at a wonderful museum in Kingman even though this lady view us with some distrust. Maybe her vision was blurred.
If you are at the Route 66 Museum, and you like old-fashioned milkshakes and malts you should go across the street to Mr. Dz. Yelp provided this picture, so I’m a bit blurry on the name details.
We spent the first and last night in Laughlin, so we met ourselves coming and going. It was beautiful on the way, but by the way back, the blurry air smeared the town’s beauty. So enjoy the first glimpse.
We visited a park called Slide Rock on the way home that may have been the most beautiful place in the world. In 1912 a man named Frank Pandry homesteaded it and grew apples.
It’s heyday came and went in a blur, but artifacts remain. It’s definitely worth a visit.
The red blur at the bottom explains how the place got its name. Kids and adults alike still enjoyed the slippery rocks.
Bees still enjoyed sniffing the black apple blossoms. I had never heard of black apples.
Can you imagine a finer setting for an apple orchard?
Spring gives me clutterphobia. In the spring, after a winter of projects, clutter creeps up on me like the consequences of a young female kitty with outdoor privileges. Oops, where did this come from? Unfortunately, having clutterphobia means I must make life and death decisions about MY valuable STUFF.
I remember my grandmother hanging dresses on top of dresses on her bedroom and closet doors and every other door that would open because her closet, chests of drawers, three car garage – that housed Grandpa’s business and Grandma’s clutter – and full basement weren’t large enough to hold her favorite things.
I don’t want to be like Grandma, but I admit that I don’t notice clutter when I’m slaving madly in some pet project. If I have enough drawers, boxes, shelves, table tops or containers I can shove it into or stack it neatly when company comes, I’m happy. But sometimes I have to stop, and make a fresh start. Like when Vincie says, “We’re starting a new project. You’ve got to move everything out of here!”
During intense periods of work, my house fills from the inside out. I go to a conference and bring home freebies and purchased books that I couldn’t resist, and I’m too busy to deal with it. If Vince or I can’t find gloves, make-up, pair of glasses, jewelry, bowls, hammers, flashlights, we buy cheap replacements. The longer I let it go, the less space I have to walk around in my house, and suddenly the clutter hits me like an infestation of cockroaches. I need a fresh start. But how?
My enormous collection of handmade or inexpensive jewelry.
Organize it and put it somewhere safe
Eventually I complete or tire of my messy project or collection, but I still can’t bear to part with the stuff.
I start a new job April 1. I’ll tell you about it after it’s publicly announced, but I’m cleaning and organizing my house to get ready for a fresh new project!
This past week I’ve also been organizing my computer into external drives and getting things off about ten different cloud drives that slowed my poor little Apple down to a crawl to give it a fresh start. (It still has an arthritic drive, and takes longer to get going than my grandpa used to take getting out of his recliner.)
I’ve spent two days freshening up my CCSS and SJVCSS files, and moving them to a Google Drive so a new volunteer will be able to find things they might need. Without files, there is no institutional memory. An organization for social studies – history, geography, economics and government teachers – better have some institutional memory. We don’t even have a historian in either group. Yikes. But I have ORGANIZED files.
The SJVCSS website needed a fresh start, too. I destroyed the home page accidentally. That’s one of the hazards of cleaning I forgot to mention – destruction. My mother was a clutterbug. When I was 10, she had to spend a week in the hospital. My dad decided that he would organize and clean everything. He even took the dresser pulls off the dresser and soaked them in solution that ate off the finish instead of the fingerprints. Now I’ve turned into my dad.
We’re hiring an expert to start afresh with a new website that it won’t wilt when a little Miss Sunshine decides to organize and freshen it up a bit. In my defense, it needed organizing. the Latest News and Twitter Posts showing on the homepage were dated May, 2012, and newer posts existed.
One positive note to cleaning the clutter before I must leave you. Over twenty years ago I wrote a book during summer break. I stored it on big floppy disks, (LOL if you remember those!) but I also had a printed copy of it that I couldn’t find anywhere. I found it last night. It’s like finding an old friend. I have it sitting next to my computer where I can look down and smile at it and put my coffee cup on it for a few days until I have to find a new place for it. It’s about 250 pages clipped neatly onto an old brown clipboard. I doubt that I will retype it any time soon. BUT IT’S NOT CLUTTER … is it?
Frankly there is no reward great enough to recompense a person for the amount of effort they put into a project. For example, why blog? Is it because someone rewards you? Of course not. Most of us blog to communicate with the world, to share what’s happening that’s important to us. My last blog told the story of Bob’s old barn, I fell in love with it just in time – it’s coming down. It was rewarding to take pictures and tell the story.
I took the picture below of this same path Saturday on my way home from Visalia. It has changed. History is all about change. Today it looks like this.
This crane cleared out olive trees, and the barn will come down soon to make way for a new field of fruit trees.
Today I met with a friend, Laile Di Silvestro, today who is helping me heal a sick and injured website for San Joaquin Valley Council for the Social Studies. My reward for the three and a half hours that we labored is a website that works a little better, a closer relationship with a talented and generous person, and – totally unrelated, but I’m counting it as a reward – beautiful weather giving me scenery to photograph.
Seriously, you’d think it was mid-summer in Montana to look at that sky. It’s a bit chilly, but not enough to deter anyone. We’ve all been praying for rain. That would be a reward.
A few of these clouds rewarded us with a light drizzle, but not much rain. Most of our water comes from wells pumped from underground aquifers or nearby irrigations ditches.
These pumps may not look beautiful, but water is a huge reward.
And we are rewarded by food, not only for us but for the cows that provide one of my favorite foods – cheese. Tulare County is one of the largest dairy producing counties in the world. We probably have more cows here than we have people. Most of them live near Visalia and Hanford in large dairies of up to 5,000 cows. Talk about a lot of work. If you don’t like cheese, it might not seem like such a great reward, but I love it.
This is the dairy I used to pass everyday on my way to and from work.
Those cows probably aren’t praying for rain, but I’m guessing that the people who live in this house on that dairy farm are. I hope they get their reward. 🙂
Rule of thirds challenges me unless I have a 9 grid overlaying the photo or viewfinder. Since I’ve never seen a viewfinder like that, I confess that these shots became rule of thirds after the camera lens had long since left the scene.
These shots look a little cloudy because dense fog covered the Woodlake Valley floor the day I took them. I should have had my portrait done out-of-doors that day. This woodpecker may have had trouble finding his worm. I prefer that he pecks at the ground instead of burying his acorns in my roof or pecking my siding.
Out to help me keep my yard bird-free, Cross-Eyed Kitty looks like a fierce hunter. In reality, this beautiful old feral cat heard me, and came running so I could take him over to my house to eat from Mama and Scardy’s bowl.
We know he’s at least fourteen years old, but he may be a lot older. He looks great, but pick him up, and he’s all hair and bones. He has the most beautiful blue eyes.
Cross-Eyed Kitty never acted feral. As soon as he comes near, he rolls over for a rub. I did not edit this photo as CEK took up exactly two-thirds of the picture if you don’t count his tail, which blends into the ground anyway.
Back home again after rescuing CEK from a hard hunting trip, I walked around the yard admiring the new blooms on the peach trees. Woodlake Valley boasts hundreds, no thousands, of peach trees which grow in large orchards with military-perfect straight lines. Pink and white blossoms make this valley fit for a spring festival. My husband’s sinuses do not agree.
For more Rule of Thirds pictures click the WP icon.
On a scale of 1 to 10 with ten being the most organized and 1 being piled to the ceiling with recipes and newspaper clippings, I would give my writing area a 4. It took over 500 words to list all the things on the desk.
On a scale of 1 to 10 of how interesting this information is with 10 being information you want to go share with 947 of your closest Facebook friends, and 1 being you would kill yourself before you ever mentioned this to anyone, I would give this subject matter a 2. Trust me, nothing is worth killing yourself, not that I’ve ever tried it. If I was going to try to commit suicide, a messy desk would not rate even a 0 on a 1 to 10 scale and a post about it would rate even lower than that.
Nonetheless, I rate my desk/table very high on the likeability scale for several reasons. First and last, as you can see, I like to spread out when I write or study. A normal to large desk does not allow for me to pile up enough stuff that I can’t read all at the same time. I get a lot of comfort distraction from having papers all over the place when I write. Generally, when I’m writing, there is something I don’t know. So if I have my research right beside me, I can thumb through it and find the facts I need fairly quickly. If I have a tiny desk, notes and copies of articles end up on the floor. Soon I crawl around on the floor reading one article after another on my hands and knees.
On a scale of 1 to 10 grading for reading comfort level, the hands and knees position is a 0 and my desk is an 8. The only reason my desk is an 8 and not a 10 is because it is too high, and I can’t figure out how the lever works on my chair to raise it.
Raising the chair should be easy, but on a scale of 1 to 10 my chair is a 1. It is much easier to go into the bedroom and get a pillow and put it on the seat. My dog likes that better because if she had a choice of places to lie down, she always chooses the place with a pillow.
You are welcome to rate my desk yourself on whatever scale you dream up. Better yet, rate your own desk. Or write about scale in a different way. In the Central Valley of California scale is a dirty word because a critter that lives on oranges is called scale.
I apologise that this post has nothing to do with showing scale in a photograph, or at least I didn’t pick that out. Maybe you will find something scaly about this post, and if so, please feel free to comment. If you read this to be inspired about what to post, then you might want to keep looking.
Yellow seems to creep into every picture even when I don’t focus on it. I looked for a folder that might show a lot of yellow where one might not expect it. I first opened “Market Research.” In this photo trip, I explored what sold books. Compare the picture with more yellow. What do you think?
I actually could not find a bookcase with NO yellow. Yellow makes the other colors pop. Which book in the next bookcase draws your attention? Which ones would you choose to read looking at the cover? What about if you just looked at the spine?
Yellow needs another color to offset it, but a bit of yellow goes a long way, wouldn’t you say? The book I remember reading from this entire post – 9 months later is The Dark.