Yellow Rose © 2010 Bo Mackison
And I’ll send a little humor to you on this Saturday morning, the start of a beautiful weekend. I found this quote while looking for a few words about roses, and just couldn’t pass it by. Especially considering the source…I think she was a wise, inspirational woman, but obviously she was a comedian, too!
I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed, but fine up against a wall. ~~ Eleanor Roosevelt
Softly Seen, A Heart in Shadow © 2010 Bo Mackison
I don’t photograph roses very often. Maybe because I’ve had entire years of gardening consumed with frustrating rose care. In out first home — a zillion and a half years ago and before children — I thought it would be lovely to plant some of the roses my grandfather had grown. I frequently gardened with him during my childhood, but I must have missed the parts of rose care that were the hard work.
I remember the good scents part. He would call, “Hey, Bo. Take a sniff of this yeller one. What do ya think? Ain’t she a grand one!”
I remember being allowed to carefully cut long stemmed roses with very sharp cutters. I brought them to my grandmother on the special days her Garden Club ladies visited our home. She would arrange them in exquisite bouquets of welcome for the admiring rose lovers.
I don’t, however, remember the clumpy, thick white clouds of rose dust or the aphids and black spot the rose dust was supposed to eradicate. And I certainly didn’t remember winter care. My grandfather’s roses grew in Zone 7. I planted my roses in Zone 4 which meant they required pruning and mulching and wrapping and covering. And even then, there was always winter kill that took a part of each plant.
I struggled with those roses the 7 years we lived in our first home, and when we moved I swore I would have no more roses.
So I have a rather tenuous relationship with roses. I love them; I hate them.
But then we were visiting Milwaukee today and stopped at the Boerner Botanical Gardens. While we were there, I decided to take a walk through their rose gardens. (The last time I walked those rose garden paths, I held the hand of our oldest child, while Sherpa pushed our middle child, a tiny infant, in a stroller.)
I took a few photographs before the mosquitoes won and I had to retreat to the safety of the car. I didn’t record the name of this rose. I was too busy slapping at biting insects and wondering what useful purpose mosquitoes have on this earth.
But I like this rose — its soft curves, the shadows playing with the lights, and the rose’s heart. A hidden heart.
A View from the Vestibule
I’m not one for spending a lot of time attending church services, but I do appreciate a quiet space where I can take some time out of my day and sit in quiet.
Often that quiet space, at least for me, is out in the middle of a hardwood forest propped against a tree, or sitting on the giant boulders lining the lakes, concentrating on the waves that never stop washing over the rocky shore.
But sometimes I find myself in the city, and I find myself in need of a quiet place. Occasionally I walk inside one of the many churches that line the downtown streets, and I find a space to sit and spend a few minutes in silence.
I was quite taken by the old world beauty of this church in downtown Milwaukee, and wanted to capture the feeling in a photograph. The half open door provided just enough framing for a part of the interior of the church. I liked the warm colors and the simplicity.
It was another one of those good spaces.
Self Portrait?
Another self portrait in metaphor.
Not quite in balance.
Need a bit of freshening, but an hour’s work would take care of those smudges, straighten the tangled cords of the window blind.
And a bit of sanding and a fresh coat of paint would hide those worn areas.
Like I mentioned before–metaphor.
Very!
So fast, only her stripes are left!
5 months old and full of energy
Day 3 of the Best of ’09 Challenge. Today’s challenge is to write about the best article I read in 2009. I read a lot. Hard to pick one article, but I did enjoy an article on the Laughing Yoga.
And today I found myself laughing at the antics of a pair of tiger cubs. Yes, laughing is great medicine for whatever ails you.
Now about those tiger cubs. This is one of two females born on July 8, 2009. The cubs, recently named Tula and Nuri, were born at the Milwaukee County Zoo in Wisconsin. They are now old enough to be making regular appearances in their indoor exhibit every day.
The name Tula is from the South African language, isiZulu, and means “quiet.” Nuri means “my flame” and is Hebrew.
After watching the two cubs play and interact for nearly an hour this morning, I am guessing that the cub in the photograph is Nuri – if she is living up to the meaning of her name. She spent most of the time chasing her sister, and when the other cub finally dropped in her tracks to take a nap, Nuri took a few pounces on her sleeping sister. Tula turned her back on the more rambunctious cub, and Nuri posed – briefly – before taking another pounce towards her watchful mother.
Y is for Yellow, as Bright as the Sun
Z is for ZZZs, My Work Here is Done
It’s a Wrap on the Alphabet, the End of the Year.
Here’s to a Holiday Season, Filled with Good Cheer.
To You and Yours, the Very Best
Bo
Detail of Chihuly Art Glass Sculpture
I needed something to post. This great glass sculpture by Dale Chihuly could easily have merited the entire post, but then Amuirin – that girl is always full of ideas – posted this crazy meme. It is supposed to be a one word answer meme, though I’m terrible at following rules, so I’ll give it a go, but no one-word promises.
Well, I was looking for a likely spot of procrastination. Almost anything would have qualified. My new washing machine to replace that blankity-blank one hasn’t even made its warehouse appearance yet and I’ve been without a washer for over a week and it was Thanksgiving and I had a houseful of overnight company and there are “linens and things” to launder and I simply don’t wanna go to the laundromat.
Ah, pay attention. Procrastination is a fine art.
Join the fun if you wish. Use these questions or make up your own like Amuirin and I did. I am non-celebrating the first day of December in Wisconsin with snow, dark clouds, more snow, slippery streets, gray, gray, gray. So I say – who needs to drive to the laundromat in search of clean underwear? Not me!
Here’s my lackadaisical attempts, clean and brief…
- Where is your cell phone? — upstairs
- Where is your significant other? — an epic tale
- Who is your favorite blogger? — blogger with comment
- Your favorite beverage?— sipping tequila ($$$$$)
- Your hair color? — fine, and you?
- What is your favorite thing? — camera
- Your dream last night? — people sleep long enough to dream?
- Your dream/goal? — serenity
- The room you’re in? — studio
- Your hobby? — setting goals I never reach
- Your fear? — caving snowbanks
- What do you want to be in 6 years? — sane
- Where were you last night? — driving in Iowa in blizzard.
- What are you not into? — organized groups
- One of your wish-list items? — the perfect photo printer
- Where did you grow up? — overlooking the Mighty Mississippi
- Last thing you fantasized about? — sunshine
- What are you wearing? — wool
- What you are not wearing? — bikini
- Your TV? — what TV?
- Your pet? — Jazz, the Velcro cat
- Your dinner? — pizza, delivered, hurry!
- Your mood? — tolerable
- Missing someone? — always
- Your car? — in the shop, again
- Favorite store? — Apple (computers, not fruit)
- Favorite Breakfast? — chocolate ($$$)
- Love someone? — usually
- Last time you laughed? — a half-hour ago
- Last time you cried? — morning, much better now
