Walking around Geneva with my son earlier this year, I saw this man having a snooze in the afternoon sun.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Everyday life
Tag: postaday
A little abstract…
Trying abstract ideas for human form assignment…
Never work with children or animals…
It’s been said that one should never work with children or animals and from my experience, I tend to agree. When editing my last post Travel themes; Red, I had a giggle to myself thinking about how difficult that shot was to take. Now obviously there were no animals or children in the shot, but what went on behind the scene was a very different story.
I set up the shot for a proportion assignment I was doing in my Dip Photoimaging course. I figured the capsicum and or fruit would look kind of cool in the miniature trolley and would demonstrate the photographic element of proportion. So with different coloured cardboard on hand to create a cyclorama, I placed the props where I wanted and proceeded to take some test shots.
Enter Stanley.
Yep, you guessed it, just as I thought I had the perfect shot his lordship saunters onto the ‘set’. And as he’s not one to want to miss out and more particularly having the need to be in my presence 24/7, he felt it his job to make sure I had set up correctly. So he sniffed and licked, sniffed again then proceeded to plonk himself down next to the trolley and in doing so, knocked it over and sent the apple rolling away and in a flash was off in hot pursuit. Now I’m quite sure there are many dog lovers among us who probably feel as I do that our 4-legged friends would speak if they could and in the moment I just described had Stanley been able to voice his thoughts, it may have gone a little like this.
‘Oops, sorry mum, it’s all good, I’ll get it’, and off he bounced and on his return deposited the now mildly mangled apple complete with slobber and dribble back onto the cardboard, thus creating a very different effect. Feeling very pleased with himself and the fact he was obviously a great help he began wagging his tail frantically, which connected with the apple, which in turn sent it rolling all over the cardboard leaving mangled apple goo in its wake. Some may have become angry, but not me as I was too busy laughing at my loveable fuzzy faced friend whose only crime, so to speak, was to help. So I simply exchanged the soiled yellow cardboard for a crisp, clean white one and shot off more images whilst Stanley watched from a more prop friendly vantage point; the couch.
Ah animals, you gotta love ’em.
Travel theme; Red
Through the wonderful world of blogging, I came across ‘Where’s my backpack’ and love her travel themes and how they inspire the creativity of others. Here is my quirky take on it… have trolley, will travel 😉
Weekly Photo Challenge: near and far
- kayaking at dawn… ©jlhphotography
Friendship without borders…
A few posts ago I wrote of having to say goodbye to a dear friend. But I was wrong in thinking that, it wasn’t goodbye, just a momentary lapse in our ability to share time in the same place.
For although she is in another part of the world right now, through her words, her being and her love of exploring life we are still sharing, irrespective of distance.
It’s quite simple really, friendship has no borders. We can still bathe in a friends light and share thoughts, moments, fears and foes from afar. Distance is of no consequence.
Right now she is bathing in the calm seas of Koh Tao, Thailand.
Her blog is aptly titled A lifetime of lessons, Take a look at her journey, you may enjoy sharing her time too.
Silhouette and B/W…
A walk? No thank you, I’ll take the car…
I thought I’d dedicate today’s post, which I wrote last year to my beloved Kiri aka Sausage, who passed away last December. She is missed but when thought of, brings smiles to the faces of those who loved her.
For those of you who love your four-legged friends, I hope you get a giggle from this little ditty.
For most dogs the rattling of a lead, or the mention of the word walk, sends them into a wild frenzy. Some do circles, some bark excitedly, while others run for the front door before you get a chance to change your mind.
Not Sausage. The mere mention of that filthy word was enough to send her high tailing it back to her sleeping bag, slip through the opening, bury herself at the end and not be seen. After all she believed that if she couldn’t see you, then it was very obvious you couldn’t see her.
I tried to get her excited about a walk, to no avail. I once tempted her with a piece of cheese, one of her great loves, which got the lead on and us both out the door, but a few hundred metres down the road she stopped and no amount of pulling, dragging and kind loving words would budge her. Nope, and living in fear of the neighbours reporting me to the RSPCA for cruelty at seeing me pull a small, grey fuzzy and extremely stubborn little dog down the road, I resorted to carrying her. Once in my arms, I was showered with slurps, not a particularly pleasant experience as Saus’s breath was questionable to say the least.
She may not have liked walks, but she still loved to get out of the house. Remember I mentioned about dogs’ who go into a frenzy at a mere rattle of the lead? Apart from cheese, a mere rattle of the car keys saw Sausage in a frenzy and for one with little short legs, she could cover some serious ground with lightening speed when the mood suited. Once at the car, there was then the ritual of getting in. For some reason unbeknown to us humans she’d only get in from the driver’s side and as she was short, getting in was a two step process. Firstly, a few moments of rocking back and forth on her haunches, similar to a high jumper working up to the big jump was performed, followed by swift forward leap onto the floor and as she’d become quite good at this manoeuvre, she always avoided injury on the pedals by ensuring her landing was precise.
Once there, another few moments of rocking preceded a deft leap onto my seat then one final leap over the centre console saw her finally sitting proudly on the left hand passenger seat, a place I’m sure she felt was hers and hers alone.
If the boys had friends in the car and in her seat, she’d throw herself on the floor and as a mark of disgust, pant her fish-infused breath in their direction. But the madness in all of this was that once we reached our destination, she’d run for cover under the seat, as no way would she get out and walk anywhere. Following was a perfect example.
Living on the Sunshine Coast, home to some of Australia’s most beautiful beaches, the boys decided a late afternoon bodyboard was in order. Of course the moment the keys were rattled, Sausage was at the back door before the rest of us had even made it down the stairs. And on that afternoon she did just that and looked very pleased and contented as we drove to the beach.
On arrival, I smiled at her sweetly as she eyed me suspiciously from her special spot (there were no friends in residence). I held up the lead and with that she launched a perfect dive bomb under the seat, which in turn lead to me having to find the best grip in order to manipulate her firmly wedged little body out from under the seat.
Of course amid this madness, the boys’ were egging me on with shouts of, ‘come on mum,, you can do it’!
I finally won the battle, placed the lead around her neck and set off to the beach, although not accompanied by the sound of little paws walking alongside. Nope, she was in my arms, and if dogs could actually smile, I believe hers would have been wider than the Grand Canyon. And as we sat watching the boys surf, and although she would never have admitted it, secretly I think she quite enjoyed lazing on the boys’ towels, watching other dogs walk along the beach.
In contrast though, he says, a walk? Yes please, but I’ll also take the car! 🙂
- and when the day is done… rest
Weekly Photo Challenge: Free Spirit
One stormy day I took my boys to Queensland’s beautiful Mudjimba beach.The cloud formation was incredible as were the spirits of my children, free and full of fun.
Beware the ride-on mower…
If you’re thinking of buying acreage, here’s a little warning, give it serious thought. You may well ask why, but a purchase of this type requires garden maintenance and the easiest way to do this is with the use of a ride-on mower.
How this could be a problem? Read on.
I was once in possession of acreage and one sunny morning I noticed the grass needed attention. My teenage son was primarily in charge of this job, but he was away that weekend so I figured I would do it for him.
So sitting proudly atop my ride-on mower, I felt quite pleased with myself. I say proudly because it had taken me the best part of 30 minutes to get this motorised monster to roar into life.
Why, I hear you ask? Simply because the mechanical beast in question had aged considerably and the starter battery once the source of very quick and effective ignition, had died long ago.
Sheer brute strength and frantic pulling of a rip style cord was now required to get this reluctant machine to perform. Having achieved that part of the ritual, I had to be quick for in order to feed the beast a rusty lever had to be pushed forward to continue the flow of fuel otherwise the beast would starve and if that happened, it would splutter, spit and finally stop causing the whole
back-breaking performance to be repeated.
As luck would have it I was swift and I was soon bouncing off down the road to begin the task. After about 20 minutes of chomping, slicing and devouring a fair chunk of land, my confidence had grown. Zipping around orange, apple and lime trees, ploughing through overgrown weeds and ripping through dead roots, I was feeling quite daring. Spotting a cluster of grass that was strangling a dying tree; I set off to the rescue. However this rescue was going to be tricky as the tree in question grew on a slope and would require some deft footwork of the combined brake, reverse and accelerator pedal to keep myself and my machine from rolling uncontrollably down the hill. But of course that was not going to be a problem, as I knew exactly how to handle this machine, or so I thought.
Off I scurried down the hill and manoeuvring my machine with precision and panache, I sliced through the offending grass. Nearing the end of my mission, I reversed down the slope to get the best vantage point for a final burst that would see the killer grass finally end its murderous ways.As I slammed down the accelerator, freshly churned soil flew into the air as my wheels were forced into action. This action was my downfall for as my wheels spun, they lost traction and before I could act, I started sliding backwards down the hill. No longer having a man around the house I was not in the position to scream like a banshee in the hope of being rescued, instead there was only Sausage who would hear my bellowing. And for those who don’t know Sausage, she was my beloved dog (she has since passed away) and a rather small one at that, so any hope of rescue from her was out of the question. Then panic set in for rather than push my heal downward, which would have powered the brake action, I pushed forward causing my mower to thrust backwards at incredible speed. Fearing death and realising no help was at hand, I took evasive action. I had to get off this mad beast and fast. In my haste to dismount my right shoelace became entangled with the seat, which left me to hop frantically on my other leg alongside a backward moving, mad mower.
Suddenly I could see the headline flash before my eyes.
“MAD MOWER MURDERS MOTHER”!
I screamed (all in vain I might add) ‘stop, stop, you mad mower’, but did it listen? No, it just kept on rolling without a thought for my safety, and in the midst of this madness Sausage watched with great interest, probably wondering why I had chosen to mow in such a stylish yet awkward manner.
Thankfully rescue was forthcoming, but not by Sausage or some macho male who heard my screams. No, my saviour was a large tree that halted my descent just as the Beast and my now mildly mangled right leg were destined for extinction.
Hallelujah I gushed as I freed my leg from the jaws of the mad mower, but sadly it was that moment Sausage decided she could help, and not seeing her small grey shape, over I went. Not one to be easily offended, Sausage took this opportunity (seeing I was now at her level, flat on my back on the freshly cut grass) to shower me with a few swift fish-breath infused slurps.
So there I was, now not so proudly lying beside a still roaring mower while a delighted and very smelly sausage dog showered me with love and affection. Removing Sausage from my face I pushed and heaved until the reluctant mechanical beast was back on even ground.
Later, as I stood on my verandah with a glass of wine in hand, and a blood soaked bandage wrapped tightly my leg, I realised ride-on mowers are to be treated with respect.
So heed this warning unsuspecting and prospective gardeners: never underestimate the ride-on mower, they can be very dangerous creatures and need to be handled with care!
stanley & bear 