This impromptu moving car show was a heartening sight, since so many public events have been forced to cancel this summer.
Fans line the streets in family groups for a moving display of vintage vehicles. There were likely showier models than these, but my favorite vehicles were these green ones, my favorite color, in very cool styles.
This has always been my favorite country church. I’ve not been inside, but the churchyard is charming. Especially so on a springtime morning. Birds soared overhead, the scent of newly emerging greenery permeated the air.
The architectural details are simple yet show a sense of class. Something missing from most modern architecture.
I’ll post more photos of the building and lawn when I’m able to load them. The internet is incredibly slow; due, I suppose to everyone working and studying at home for safety.
The photo above and the next two were taken at Lake Erie on a relatively balmy winter day, early last week. What a difference a few days make.
The ones which follow were snapped at the end of the week, following a winter storm that dropped a few inches of snow and coated the branch tips with a glittering glaze of ice.
This week’s photos reminded me of the prominence of the colors of gray and blue in the cold season landscape. We all miss the azure sky of summer, but other subtle blue colors can be just as attractive if we learn to appreciate the many shades and formations of winter clouds and the varied qualities of water.
When you hang this lovely framed photo found in a second hand store. I believe it’s on Nantucket, one of the prettiest spots in Massachusetts I’ve not yet seen in person.
Today I watched a DVD which followed an auto tour from Maine to Florida. To my surprise, one of the lighthouses they showed was the one in this picture Brant Point – the identity of which I had not previously known.
I’m ready for a trip northest. It’s been several years since I’ve seen the Atlantic. For now, I’m watching recordings of the old TV show, Wings, set on idyllic Nantucket Island. Though it’s not so idyllic for the characters in the show who live there, as it is with most residents of places tourists see as paradise.
Wherever you go, there you are, and you must find a way to make a living . . . but waking up to attractive scenerey counts for something.
Swimmers take to the water as the sun descends behind a curtain of clouds. It’s about eighty and muggy. A classic late August day. The last day, sadly, for those who love the traditional months of summer.
But September and October hold magical moments of their own – apple picking, county fairs, clear bright days when sunlight shines on painted leaves . . .
And more great days to visit the lake – to sit on wave smoothed logs and stare at the horizon line, stroll the beach, shopping for sea glass and stones – to imagine the bright future which seems possible when one is by the water.
It’s the little things that make our days bright. Like this hanging basket of posies at the corner of a village gas station I pass on my way nearly each day.
Spotting it there makes my mornings cheerier. I especially love the charm of the one lovely little pure white verbena shoot that survives amid the hot pink petunias.
I throw a bottle of water on the basket when I pass on hot weekend mornings, as the guys who work weekends don’t seem to notice it’s thirst. The lady who operates the store/gas station through the week struggles to keep it perky as she imagines some people may like to see it hanging there.
It certainly has an admirer in me. One of those simple, special touches so missing in today’s rushed society.
I’ve been greatly in need of a few hours (or days) of doing nothing. Thankfully, this weekend I got my chance, as Spring Plowing Days commenced at a location not far from home.
Few pastimes are more relaxing than hanging out with horses. Especially draft horses – gentle giants of the equine world – “real horses” as this window decal on one of the owners’ vehicles attests. I didn’t notice until I posted this – the fitful clouds of the breezy spring day are reflected on the glass behind the pink horse. How cool is that?!
The two huge creatures in front of me as I write, a Percheron and a Belgian, are tied to a line strung between two trees, enabling them to enjoy a delectable appetizer of maple leaves. Apparently the greenery is more appealing than the hay supplied in bags suspended from the line securing the two huge animals.
Wind whips the tall grass on the hillside and the manes and tails of a pair of gray and white Percherons pulling a plow across a rich brown field, steel blades striking the soil and flipping it as a continuous ribbon, creating a neatly textured pattern of ridges and furrows.
Twitters of sparrows building nests under the eaves of a shed blend with the subdued chatter of the exhibitors and visitors.
Log skidding, obstacle course and weight pulling competitions await as I experience this slice of what life was like a century ago, before technology took over our lives, shifting society’s focus from family farms and small town shops to big business.
I’ve watched some of these exhibitors for thirty years. Since we both were young. Before they had children. Now some have grandchildren trailing behind their horses in front of crowds of people that are pitifully small compared to those of a couple decades ago.
Do younger generations no longer appreciate animal competitions or is it just that publicity is lacking for these peaceful, soul renewing exhibitions?