Tag Archives: photography

Going Under . . . .

. . . . . Enveloped in plastic . . .

Maid of the Mist, Niagara Falls

. . . we took our life in our hands . .

Maid of the Mist, Niagara Falls

. . . to board Maid of the Mist . . .

Niagara Falls

. . . and headed into Niagara Falls . . .

Niagara Falls

. . . and disappeared, enveloped in mist.

Niagara Falls

This week’s photo challenge is to illustrate the word enveloped.  Click here to see other entries to the challenge.

To see Niagara Falls enveloped in snow and ice visit Joanne Sisco’s great post A Winter Day At The Falls.

It’s What? Nooo.

Another entry for this week’s photo challenge of Intricate  , but what is it?

Tulipmania, Springfield Festival Gardens, Spalding, Lincolnshire

Is it an avant garde artist’s latest creation?

Nooooo.

Is it ice crystals on strawberry ice cream?

Noooo.

Did it fall off Lady Gaga’s latest outfit?

No!

So what is it then?

Scroll down and see:

Tulipmania, Springfield Festival Gardens, Spalding, Lincolnshire

Did you guess it was a tulip? You didn’t cheat and look at the tags did you?

As pretty as a sunset . . . .

. . . . . sunrise at Long Key in the Florida Keys:

Long Key sunrise, Florida Keys

. . . . . and no I did not pop over there this morning. Photo taken December 2009. I knew, of course, that it would eventually come in handy for the WP photo challenge this week of Early Bird.

It wasn’t difficult to rouse myself for this photo op. I had the beach to myself, a lovely cup of tea and a spectacular show to watch put on by Mother Nature. The only problem was that the heat and humidity kept fogging my camera lens having just stepped out of the air-conditioned RV. Have you experienced that? It was a new one on me.

My French Connection

Hi ho, hi ho,

It’s off to France we go.

With a hop and a skip,

And a tunnel train trip,

We’re off to Wimereux.

It was actually four weeks ago that we went but I couldn’t replace go with went and make it rhyme.

On the verge of giving up on my French lessons, I remarked to himself before the trip, ‘I’m hopeless at French, I can’t remember anything. What’s the point of learning if you can’t remember?’

I’m the dummy in my ill-advised advanced class who tries to keep a low profile and goes home to look up the same words and phrases over and over again, then crams for the next week and writes little cheat notes I hide in my notebook. I was going to give my brain one last chance to redeem itself on a five day trip to the French coast, not far from where the train spits us out in our car.

I got on surprisingly well at hotel check-in leaving himself dumbfounded as I spoke in secret code with the receptionist.

‘What’s happening?’

‘I’ve got the key, the lift is over there and we’re on the third floor, room 307,’ and I strode off self-importantly. I gained confidence with each shop and restaurant encounter, even responding in French when I was spoken to in English.

My only disappointment was at tourist information where I asked about local walks speaking politely in French. The assistant threw a stream of unintelligible gobble-de-gook at me even after I asked her – in French – to speak more slowly. I grabbed the map she’d been jabbing at for reasons only known to her and left, bemused at her insensitivity working as she was at a seaside holiday resort close to the tunnel and ferry port of Calais, one of England’s main entries to France.

Perhaps she just doesn’t care for les anglais. Not that I’m English but she wouldn’t know that as we didn’t chit-chat and exchange pleasantries. I wasn’t able to tell her that my father had served in the American Army, landed at Normandy, fought for and was wounded for her country and she had better buck her ideas up.

beach toys
No sand castles in France – only sand châteaux

On the lookout for stamps on our last day I popped into a likely looking shop and asked. Himself stood by as I showed off my language skills. When we stepped out onto the street he said, ‘She said to go to the tabac. It’s just down here on the right,’ and he pointed it out to me. Hmm.

The tabac was only able to supply stamps for Europe but I was directed to the post office for stamps for the U.S. Feeling pleased with my French conversation I stopped to browse some English language newspapers for a bit of light relief before leaving the shop. Himself looked up from The Times and said, ‘She told you to go to La Poste, back to the church and turn right.’

Well! He dredged that up from two years of schoolboy French *! years ago!

I wasn’t feeling so clever then so went for a little nap on the promenade. Can you see me? Look closely:

Wimereux promenade, France

Here I am:

Wimereux promenade, France

 

Cruising with Walter Cronkite

Do you see that blob with her arm out under the rear stripey sail? That’s me at the helm of ‘Nightwind.’ The photographer was Walter Cronkite.

'Nightwind' Glass Clipper, Caribbean

It was the late 70’s and I was crewing on the charter yacht ‘Nightwind.’ Walter came down from New York with his wife, son and friend to spend some down time cut off from the world as this was before the days of mobile phones.

We were ghosting along under a light wind and Walter and the skipper hopped into the dingy to take some rather splendid souvenir photographs of ‘Nightwind’ under sail, some of which he posted to us later after they’d been developed (remember doing that?). Sadly, this one is now faded, scratched and blotched.

An enduring memory of THE Mr. Walter Cronkite was that he would ascertain our destination for the next day and read aloud about it from the cruising guide after dinner. Washing up, tinkering and tidying would halt and the other five of us on board would gather round to listen. I knew the guide off by heart and the islands were completely familiar to me but his sonorous voice, relaxed by his vacation, was mesmerizing. It was his news voice tuned down to a lullaby. What a treat.

I lived Afloat on this boat for two years cruising with charter passengers between Martinique and Grenada. And am still drifting.

If you are interested, or my terminology offends you, the rear stripey sail is the mizzen staysail.

I could have just re-posted Put That Back, a photo of Floating Islands desserts for this challenge, but that seemed a bit lazy.

Dearly Beloved . . . . .

. . . . . oops! We’re not all seated yet!

Beach wedding Italy Quick Maya! Go sit with Nonna!

Too quick for me, Maya is this week’s photo challenge subject of Blur. Little Maya was too excited to keep still for long. We thought she would insist on being the wedding celebrant but she reluctantly decided to let her grandfather conduct the ceremony before taking her seat.

Put That Back!

Frothy, floaty, silky deliciousness.  Îles flottantes. Floating islands. Mounds of lighter-than-air meringue, drizzled with caramel, floating on a sea of custard. Could you resist?

Floating Islands, France

“Dont’ touch it! I want to take a picture.” Himself’s hands retreated slightly.

“Move your hands. They’re in the frame.” Click. And the hands moved back to the dessert.

“Wait! I want to take one more.”

Spot the difference between the photo above and the one below:

Floating Islands, France

The Ephemeral nature of a yummy dessert is this week’s entry for the photo challenge. Short-lived is one definition of ephemeral. I dispute that. Those French desserts (and dinners and croissants and wine and cheese and baguettes and . . . . ) are still making themselves known around my waistline.

See more entries for the WordPress Photo Challenge here: Ephemeral

Better late than never, eh? Life seems to be getting in the way of blogging. What’s up with that?

This is what walls are for!

Flowers, flowers and more flowers! I was happy, happy, happy!

Festival of the Patios, Cordoba, Spain Festival of the Patios, Cordoba, Spain Festival of the Patios, Cordoba, Spain Festival of the Patios, Cordoba, Spain

Festival of the Patios, Cordoba, Spain, 2006

Tantalizing glimpses through wrought iron gates of bountiful patios are all one gets throughout the year until May, when private patios – central open-air ‘rooms’ in houses – are opened to the public.

Originally plants and water features were a way of keeping the patios cool in the hot dry summers but in 1918 Códoba City Hall began sponsoring the patio contests. As you can see the residents go all out.

How would you like a whole wall of flowers?

To view more walls in the photo challenge, click: Wall. That’s all!