These bicycles are a nice bit of color in a time of brown and gray.
Along a road winding up into the hills and the Finger Lakes Forest.
A largely agricultural area north of Watkins Glen, now being “built up” with houses, summer cottages and of course, more wineries.
And gift shops. I’d thought macramĂ© plant hangers were finally extinct, but turns out, they were just tangled up somewhere and have now reemerged in the world of stained glass candleholders and bracelets made from bent spoons.
Putting this photo on WP, I was thinking how, when I post these snapshots of the Finger Lakes region, or wherever I’ve been, there’s an impulse to try to show the place in a flattering light.
Sometimes the photos have been cropped to remove what seem like distractions or what strikes me as just plain ol’ ugliness.
It somehow feels almost like disloyalty to do otherwise.
But perhaps that’s my sentimental streak creeping in again and something to avoid – -not just to steer clear of kitsch and superficiality – – but also in favor of clarity and honesty.
Well…likely it’s also good to not to overthink this or take it too seriously!
Somehow this crop seemed to stick in my craw, so here’s a photo that wasn’t cropped.
A no doubt tackier scene, kind of fun and definitely a bit weirder.
Although, I think if I ran out of gas, I’d probably knock on someone else’s door, there’s just something about headless mannequins.
A shot of the lower half of the falls.
I did very little editing, mostly just made it a bit brighter, and didn’t fiddle with the balance or boost the “color saturation,” or whatever it’s called.
I think the color comes from minerals and perhaps fresh-water algae. Pale blue? Pale turquoise?
The Crayola box (the big one, my go-to reference for art stuff) indicates “aquamarine,” but when I look online at a color chart, that’s way too green.
“Bluish” will have to do.
I went out one mornin’ when the sun didn’t shine
I picked up my shovel and began to whine
I loaded sixteen tons of wet gray snow
And my neighbor said “It’s just started to blow.”
You load sixteen tons, what do you get?
It’s another foot deeper and my socks are wet
Saint Peter don’t you call me when there’s all this snow
It’s hellish cold and the wind does blow
If you see me comin’, better step aside
Snowblower’s goin’ and we’re goin’ for a ride
Throttle is stickin’ and you’re gonna take a lickin’
If the auger sucks your foot inside.
You load sixteen tons, what do you get?
It’s another foot deeper and my socks are wet
Saint Peter don’t you call me when there’s all this snow
It’s hellish cold and the wind does blow
On a recent walk, snapped a cellphone shot of the elusive Burdock Bear.
Prickly-looking but surprisingly friendly, they’ll attach themselves your coat and follow you home.
Woolly Bears are of course the most reliable forecasters of the coming winter.
The broader the black band, the tougher the conditions will be.
So I was darn pleased to see this fellow, telling us it will be a really mild season.
I was thinking about what to call our little furry weather predictors.
I guess you could call them “palmists” because we like to gently pick them up, and hold them in our palms, to see them roll themselves into a ball like a tiny hedgehog.
But we couldn’t say “soothsayers,” because they never say anything.
They communicate their predictions by how they’re dressed. Not such a crazy idea – if the weatherperson on TV appears in hipboots & sou’wester, it’s pretty easy to interpret, just like the woolly bears, so we might need a a word for this.
Someone predicting warm weather, by wearing stripes, you could go with SeersuckerSoothShow-er.
But HypothermiApparelAugur is too clunky, as is ClothClairvoyanGlacĂ©.Â
Snowsuit Sibyl isn’t too bad.
Meteorlogifashionista is my best effort, trips right off the tongue, doesn’t it.
Please let me know if you come up with something good!
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