You might remember last year’s big announcement of a new category of posts: how-it-started, how-it’s-going. I had planned to follow up the inaugural post, which showed a bare garden in spring, with a harvest-abundance photo. It was not to be.
This year, I travelled at a different season and got the harvest shot all right, but minus the abundance. Edmonton had a hot, dry summer so the garden’s output was, well, subdued. Even so, I could still smell the dill.
I’ve tried haphazardly to get good shots of campfires and sunsets. My results? Mixed.
Campfires often bring the challenge of low light, and it can be tricky to capture the feeling of the flicker with a static image. Sunsets always bring the challenge of low light, and it can be tricky to capture the feeling of a horizon-scale event with a non-panoramic shot.
But none of that stops me from trying as opportunities haphazardly come my way. My latest attempts occurred in Calgary, on a deck with a gas flame surrounded by glass walls, and in a parking lot (the theme of the week). Both brought reflections into the picture. How could I resist?
As a culture, we value travel–New vistas! New perspectives!–and there’s certainly something about being in a different place to make me look at things–and things on cars–a little differently. Sometimes it’s enough to just be in a different parking lot.
There’s an artform here, I think, and I can imagine a serious photographer setting up shots for the greatest effect–selecting the “thing”, positioning the vehicle (heck, selecting the vehicle first), timing the light–and then printing the best resulting shots on huge pieces of canvas. It might even be fun.
Maybe next year. This year, I am content to enjoy these chance encounters, these ephemeral images, as the small miracles they are.
. . . but I did not pick the sunflower seeds.
I decided to take my own advice. Central Alberta has several sunflower farms: I visited two, one of which is primarily a family-fun centre and huge corn maze with parking for buses. I liked the other one, which overlooks the rolling hills west of Bowden.
Now, don’t you feel cheerier? I know I do.
And that might be it for sunflowers. Until next year.
I *knew* there’d be another opportunity to check out the teaching/illustrating skeleton at the physiotherapist’s, and so there was.
This first one reminds me of Jar Jar Binks in The Phantom Menace — technically the first Star Wars movie (historically, as it were) and actually the last Star Wars movie I ever saw or ever plan to.
This next one evokes either an elephant (I mean, look at those ears) or–considered more narrowly–an anxious lobster (admittedly with an unusual set of tentacles).
Why do some farmers plant rows of sunflowers at one-week intervals through the spring? Because people like sunflowers enough to pay for the privilege of photographing them. Because people like sunflowers as backdrops for portraits. Because people like sunflowers and will spend money at co-located retail stalls selling flavoured sunflower oils.
But why do people like sunflowers?
Not a hip-as-in-with-it hip face, a hip-as-in-joint hip face, as seen on the skeleton at my physiotherapist’s office. I was moving quickly–I was supposed to be doing shoulder exercises–so I didn’t look for the best angle, but I think you can still see the face, anchored by the two screws as eyes and a sideways mouth. Picasso messed with perspective like that, but to better overall effect I think.
I’ll see if I can get a better shot next time. I’m sure there’ll be a next time.
What do English cucumbers and French baguettes have in common, besides a certain Continental flair? They don’t fit well in standard grocery-store bags, that’s what.
Let’s take the cucumbers first. In my mind’s eye–and now in yours–two are being held uncertainly by an unfortunate clerk even now regretting the life decisions that have led him to this point. It’s too late for that, buddy: You’re up. What are you going to do?
2026 Jun 04: Here's the front/backyard this week:
