Category Archives: photo essay
Shape Shifter
artful shape shifter viewed from every angle redefined each time
Weekly Photo Challenge: From Every Angle
Dog Day(s) of Summer
The “dog days of summer” actually have nothing to do with dogs (they refer to the Dog Star Sirius and its position in the heavens during a portion of the summer). This summer day, however, is all about dogs.
It’s National Dog Day, an “unofficial” holiday established to acknowledge the benefits and needs of our canine companions. Seeing as how it is unofficial, I’d say it’s open to celebration in any nation.
So hug your dog, adopt a dog, send kind thoughts to the neighbors’ dog whose barking woke you up at 2 A.M. this morning… there are as many ways to celebrate as there are fleas on a dog.
Here’s a shout out to the special dogs in my life:
And lest I get clawed to a bloody pulp, I’ll just toss in some love to one of the cats in my life. She’s not a big fan of National Dog Day. She’s not a big fan of much anything, really. But I’ll leave her story for another day. Like maybe National Curmudgeon Day.
Happy National Dog Day!
Wordless Wednesday 8.26.15
B&W: Flowers
blossoming flowers stripped of color and fragrance still express beauty
Weekly Photo Challenge: Creepy
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: Creepy
“This week, share an image of something creepy. Unsettling. Eerie. Disgusting.”Okay, I’ll try.
It all started late one afternoon. I had gone out for a walk, hoping to get a little fresh air before the sun went down. I headed for the nearby woods, my favorite place to go when I wanted peace and solitude. As I neared the forest, I noticed something strange.
Some of the trees appeared to have been bent sideways. Not broken or blown over, just contorted, as if some unseen force were pulling the tree tops back toward the ground.
Several of the trees were oozing a thick substance from their trunks. I moved closer to inspect it.

The bark on the trees appeared to be bubbling, turning to a dark sludge that clung to the trunks,…
…writhing beneath some kind of acid that ate away at the bark. It smelled horrible.
Suddenly the sky darkened and a powerful wind thrashed the treetops.
I felt something tugging at my feet, and looked down just in time to see a black vortex opening in the ground beneath me. I was sucked violently downward, right through the forest floor.

I found myself in a dark cave. There were stunted stalactites protruding from the ceiling of the cave, emitting an eerie light that cast a strange hue about the cavern.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw something glowing at my feet. Was that a skull?
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my arm, as a shadow flitted past me and away into the darkness. Something or someone had slashed a hole in my denim jacket sleeve. I could feel warm liquid trickling down my arm.
A green eye gleamed from the shadows, …
…and other strange creatures shifted in and out of view. I screamed.
The ceiling of the cave cracked open, and I was suddenly sucked upwards in a shaft of bright light.
I must have fainted, but when I came to, I was relieved to see that I was back on the lawn just outside my home. It was just beginning to get dark. Had this all been a dream?
A voice shouted from behind me.
“There she is!” Two men, dressed all in white approached me, and grabbed my arms as they began dragging me toward a nearby building.
“How’d she get out?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know,” replied the other. “But it won’t happen again!”
I felt a sharp poke in my upper arm, and everything faded to black.
When I awoke, I was back in my room, lying on the bed, with the bare light bulb overhead glaring into my eyes. I sat up. I must have dreamt all those strange experiences.
Everything was just the way it had been when I had gone to bed last night. My denim jacket was lying across the foot of the bed. I remembered that it had been torn in my dream.
I picked up the jacket and began examining the sleeves. Nothing. So it had been a dream after all. I sighed with relief.
Then I felt something in one of the pockets. I wasn’t allowed to carry any personal possessions, so I couldn’t imagine what it might be. I reached in and touched it, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I pulled it out of my pocket.
A vacant eye stared at me from a still warm skull. Was that a shred of denim in its beak?
I dropped the skull and turned to run from the room, but the door was locked from the outside. Pounding on the door, I shouted for someone to come let me out. The door opened suddenly, and a white-clad orderly stepped in.
“Good evening, Maggie. It’s time for your medication. We wouldn’t want you having any more of those nightmares, now would we?”
Wild Rider Fitness Challenge – Reblogged Guest Post
Susie Lindau was kind enough to run a post I wrote for her Wild Rider Fitness Challenge (#WRFChallenge) a couple of months ago, but since I promised a moratorium on dog posts, I held off on reblogging until today. Thanks, Susie!
I would like you to meet Maggie C from, What Rhymes with Stanza? She has taken the 90 day Wild Rider Fitness Challenge. Maggie has written a wonderful outdoor photo essay about the pet-ometer and how it keeps her going. I can see where it is an excellent motivator. I think you’ll really enjoy this. It may motivate you too.
Take it away Maggie C!
***
Thank you, Susie, for hosting the Wild Rider Fitness Challenge!
I’ve actually been taking daily walks for about a year now, but the Challenge is motivating me to “step up” my game. I have difficulty sticking with any kind of healthy endeavor, it seems, so having kept at it this long is pretty amazing (or perhaps I’m just easily amazed).
The secret to maintaining my exercise regimen this past year has been my Pet-ometer. He doesn’t measure how many steps I’ve taken in a day…
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Icon Underfoot
We never seem to appreciate a good thing until we lose it. And sometimes things don’t even become appreciable until we face losing them. Case in point, the iconic PDX carpet in Portland, Oregon.
Granted, the old carpet at the Portland International Airport (PDX) is — shall we say — tacky. Designed in 1987 and installed in the early 90s, the teal background features a geometric pattern intended to represent the intersection of the north and south runways at PDX as seen from the control tower at night.
I’ve trodden the carpet a number of times, mostly to meet incoming friends or relatives, or to see them off on some adventure. And I never gave the floor beneath me a second thought. The first thought, however, was as I’ve previously stated, “tacky.” Worn and stained teal just isn’t my favorite color. Nor does it match my luggage. Which is black. That tells you how bad it is.
So when I started seeing photos appear on Instagram and Facebook of people’s feet on the carpet, I didn’’t get it. I went to my source of all things trendy quirky (my daughters), and learned that there is a cult following of the PDX carpet, and that that’s a “thing” now, photographing your feet as you pass through the airport.
The PDX carpet has its own Wikipedia entry, its own Facebook page with 13,000 likes, and its own Instagram hashtag (#pdxcarpet) with almost 64,000 photos to date. Oh, and it was the Grand Marshall in this year’s annual Portland Starlight Parade.
The recent spike in popularity of the PDX carpet seems driven by the fact that the 25 year old design is being retired as a new carpet installation is underway. Yes, the 14 acres of teal carpet are disappearing as we speak. Well, not disappearing. As is typical of many outmoded items in Portland, the carpet is being repurposed. The grottiest parts will be recycled, but the remaining pieces are available for sale in various shapes and forms.
While the carpet has been referred to as a “hipster icon,” I find myself climbing onto the nostalgia bandwagon, too (and I assure you I am not hipster). So of course I had to go to the art exhibit that was set up in Portland to honor the retiring carpet.
Not a very large exhibit, and not overly impressive, but oh-so-Portlandia. I got to photograph my feet on the carpet one last time, play the PDX-upholstered piano, and check out other carpet-inspired art.
I haven’t seen the new carpet yet. In the shadow of the original PDX carpet, it will have some pretty big shoes to, um, underlay. My guess is that, while it may never reach Grand Marshall status, it will probably eventually be embraced in its own right.
That’s just the way Portland is.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Beneath Your Feet
Bugs-Eye View
In Search of Wild Horses
I wrote this poem a couple of summers ago, about a weekend trip to the Ochoco forest in central Oregon. A beautiful, unforgettable experience with wonderful people and stunning scenery.
On Friday we set out in search of wild horses.
leaving the city with all its frenzy,
eager to begin our wilderness adventure.
We crossed sparkling rivers and overgrown creeks,
and saw wild rhododendrons
sprawling in the shade along the wooded roadside.
We found a stream bank that would make a great watering spot,
but alas, we saw no wild horses.
On Saturday we set out in search of wild horses.
We watched ospreys diving for lake trout.
We hiked steep mountain trails,
pausing to admire the grandeur of snow-capped peaks
and the delicateness of wildflowers
swaying in the gentle breezes.
We saw hoof prints in the soft forest floor,
but alas, we saw no wild horses.
On Sunday we set out in search of wild horses.
We enjoyed the scent of pine trees and lilacs,
watched lizards scurrying down rough-barked junipers,
and climbed hills to discover what lies beyond.
We marveled at piles of sun-hardened manure
scattered amongst the trees by our elusive prey.
We saw grass trails bent down where they may have passed by,
but alas, we saw no wild horses.
On Monday we set out for home.
En route we passed the Painted Hills that
undulate in shades of rose and verdigris and taupe and ochre.
We saw weathered barns sagging wearily in the fields,
antelope grazing in a verdant pasture,
and watched a man feed ice cream to his dogs.
We basked in our weekend revitalization.
And, by the way, we saw wild horses.
















































