Life cycle



Ready to go


Healthier days

 Ginger Leigh, ? – February 11th, 2011

I’ll be taking a short break but will be back to blogging soon.  Hope everyone is well out there.


On the pier


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David on the pier

The part of our community where beauty (the state park) meets the beast (industry).  That big fluffy smoke has reared its head here through all four seasons since I was a child and probably many years prior to that.  It makes for some interesting texture in a photo, especially on a very brisk winter’s day–but it is the uglier side of the city, visible from the north pier off the bay of Lake Erie.  One doesn’t stand on the pier for too long in the winter, unless one is a glutton for frostbite.  A few quick photos, and its back to the vehicle.  In summer, this pier is filled with fishermen and fisherwomen, and this part of the bay has quite a bit of boat traffic.  It is one of my favorite areas to run in the other three seasons, ending with a neat little lighthouse at the end.




Please keep Ginger in your thoughts today.  She is headed to the veterinarian for some tests, following some symptoms that are concerning.  She is 12.  We are preparing ourselves for the worst–but I am not sure that you can ever prepare yourself for that day, completely.


Baby, it’s cold out there


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Baby its cold outside

Looking out from my studio window this weekend, life seemed frozen in time. Crisp, cold. The kind of weather that freezes your nostrils, dares you to breathe while outdoors.

I can say this much: if nothing else, weather like this demands you slow down. There’s something to be said for this. Personally, I said “nap”. And my body agreed, sighing with the realization these opportunities, these mandated work stoppages, don’t come often in adulthood.

When given the opportunity, when the question is posed, “What’s to do on a bitter, cold January day?”, I have an answer. Stop. Take a moment to stop and smell the snowflakes. And then get your behind in side!

Happy Tuesday, all.

Play time




Don’t worry, this isn’t a picture of my new living room re-do (where I reveal my very bad decorating skills…). No, rather, this is my studio and workshop. It’s the upstairs of one of our smaller barns.

In the summer, I am fraught with large scary spiders (I always wear a hat), wasps, and temperatures above 90. Oh yes, and ants that like to bore through the wood.

Winter brings it’s own challenges–no heat (I just bought a propane heater, which helps)–but all my paints are frozen. I have to haul water up. I can’t create sawdust while I have the heater on because of the open flame (POOF!).

And yet, with nothing much I could do other than organize a few things, drink my coffee and page through some magazines, I spent a good few hours up here. Blasting the stereo with Hot August Nights, Neil Diamond and I sang our way into a zen-like state of relaxation.

I’m working on a re-education plan. Re-learning how to play, I hope. Not just relax, but really play–paints, papier mache, and–when the going gets tough–maybe even some finger paints. It’s very therapeutic.

Just like Neil Diamond.




Up the down staircase?

 I seem to go through periods in my professional life when I feel as though I am swirling up and down throughout my day.  Weeks seem neverending and issues insurmountable.  Of course, no issues are truly insurmountable–but faced with them one after another, it can become a little overwhelming.  I am sometimes not sure which way is up and which is down.

I seem to be in one of those cycles right now.  The real fear, of course, is that I will trip and plummet.  I have to hope and believe that, if that occurs, someone will be at the bottom to catch me.  The only other strategy I have, proven to me as a rock solid intervention for fear and anxiety, is to remember to face my calendar one day at time.

Here’s to staying in the moment, a reminder (to myself) to take those steps one at a time.





 There’s quite a bit of beautiful snow outside and, yet, I can’t bring myself to go out and photograph it.  Heck, who am I kidding–I can’t bring myself to raise the blinds and shoot it from the window!  I’ve presently resigned myself to taking this as a sign that I need to cull through some photos that never quite made from the editing lab to my blog.  Oh, and I’m also resigned to the fact that I’m just being lazy.




See these trees?  They’re just coming in to bloom on a later spring day, outside, with those cool-warm temperatures I’ve come to be grateful for in my mid-years.  No extremes–too hot is yucky, too cold is fodder for an evening front of the fire and some warm soup.  I’m enjoying playing with some of my old pics.  Looking thru them usually awakens some sort of comforting memory for me.  I can smell the spring in this photo.


Can you smell spring yet?



His hat


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David's hat, David's workbench

 Comfort appears in the oddest ways.  I am not sure what I like about this photo.  Surely it is not any technical prowess I demonstrate here in how to take a great photo.  Yet this captures for me a sense of home and comfort.  I took this through one of the window’s of our barn.  The window peers down into the basement area, where my husband keeps all of his lawn equipment and his workshop.  Just about anything could be on this particular workbench at any given moment.  Wrenches.  Cans of this and that.  Spiders (Eek!!).  And any number of gloves and hats my husband possesses, which I am certain at this time number in to the hundreds. 


I love pictures of pretty things.  I have a whole set of blogs I visit daily which relate to decorating and art.  I could look at those photos all day long.  I love sunsets and sunrises and animal photos.  But this is a photo which captures something so much more personal to me.  My husband.  In all his messy, workshop glory.  As comforting to me as a warm cup of coffee in front of a blazing fireplace.  How grateful am I?  Very.


Have a great weekend.


Early morning is quiet time

 I shot this a few Easter mornings ago and, as I was cleaning out some of my files, this caught my eye.  I remember the morning so well–it was very cold, a holiday morning, and I wondered a lot about the man in the photo.  Was he enjoying some quiet time?  Doing something he really loved?  Or, perhaps, escaping from either the loneliness of an empty house on Easter morning or a spouse he would rather not awaken to. 

No matter the reason.  There he was, hearing only the lap of the waves and, likely the chatter of his own teeth.  Then again, there I was–out in the cold, camera in hand, all by myself.  Not escaping from anyone–likely thinking I wished I’d stayed in my warm bed with my husband.  But that which I also loved–capturing a bit of solitude and creativity in a park I love like no other–took me out of my warm, comfortable home for a bit. 

The season following the holidays brings with it such drastic weather, my natural inclinations kick in.  I want to hibernate.  Over the holiday week, my husband and I were both hit with a flu like no other.  Knocked us both flat on our backs.  It doesn’t take long for me to become complacent–I have not touched my running shoes for a few weeks, nor picked up my Canon to capture much of anything.  Rest is important, but if you sit for too long, it can become very difficult to get moving again. 

Time to get moving into a brand new year.  Cheers to all!

Roles and Rules


Made by neighbor kids

 I shot this in downtown Seattle a few years ago.  It’s a mosaic worked into a community area–this particular piece is a park bench.  I love the colors and brightness of the piece–but moreover, a wonderful, simple message to carry in to the new year. 

Peace to all.