Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. But first, a poem.
The vine grows tangled on bough – gnarly and proud. Pride, gnarly pride – whether of nations or race – wins not war, wins not peace, wins not submission.
Vines tangled on thorns of bloodied resistance, trapped in a fog of remembrance, the glory. Ignominious defender of empire
Lost. Dark and broken. Quells peace. Cruel tsar to none, hero to one. The vine grows tangled on bough. Wins not war, wins not peace, wins not submission.
Tangled vines lash all to the yoke of sorrow. Wins not war, wins not peace, wins not submission. The vine grows tangled on bough. Its rose blooms red.
Perhaps there is only one road for those devoid of imagination and courage? Maybe peace is something that requires practise? You know, fake it until you make it? Who knows? It seems that some of god’s apparent emissaries can give some pretty shitty advice. Shall we listen to Loreena McKennitt’s song, Dante’s Prayer, in the hope of something better?
Take care, everyone. Kind Regards. Tracy.
Lens-Artists Photo Challenge – Colourful Expressions, specifically a red rose for Anne as it is her favourite colour, plus NaPoWriMo #22challenge is to to write a poem that uses repetition. You can repeat a sound, a word, a phrase, or an image, or any combination of things.
There has been many a twist and turn, and a few curve balls thrown at us over the last few weeks.
My mother and step-father visited from up north, skirting the floods that have left thousands homeless on the east coast of Australia. It has been over two years since I had my hair cut. My mother plaited it for me. The plait was a bit wonky, so perfect for me.
I have been rather quiet over the last few months living my ordinary life in extraordinary times. Ordinary does not mean dull or insignificant. Such is life in these days of extremes. I have spent an inordinate amount of time at my special place, ie. home. It might not be perfect, posh or pristine, but it has everything we need. Every window has a view of the garden and its inhabitants.
The theme for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge is Low Light. I thought I would join in. I enjoy low light photography. The words moody and dramatic spring to mind. It’s the realm of the arty farty, don’t you think? I like that word. Realm. I like arty farty too. Anyway, today I have four photos. The first three were snapped by my True Love (TL) and I took, and mucked around with, the fourth one. Please note that we don’t do mornings.
Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. This week I am also joining in with the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge – Memorable Events.
I think some of the most memorable events in our personal history are those with which we have an emotional attachment, eg. having a baby, seeing your favourite band, winning a contest, producing something you love, etc. Bringing a new piece of art into the world is like giving birth. The arrival of every piece is a memorable event. The Lens Artists Memorable Event theme seemed a perfect time to reveal my latest work but I have a couple of days work left on it. She is going to be beautiful, that is, as beautiful as a piece of climate change protest art can be. Serious stuff. When I reveal it in a few days, I would like to know whether you would like its back story? Or would you rather I let the artwork do the talking? Let me know in the comments below.
Part 2 of my contribution to the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Own Choice and One Image/One Story theme. In this case, it is one photo, three different ways. Check it out.
My True Love and my eldest son recently went on a spotlighting expedition. I stayed home because my night vision is poor and the terrain they were covering is very steep. They went into Greater Glider territory. Greater Gliders are nocturnal. They live in the trees, nesting in tree hollows, and can glide up to 100 metres at a time. I expect the Greater Glider will soon be listed as endangered given the impact of the deadly 2019/2020 Australian bushfires and ongoing land clearing across their range. It was a successful night. The lads came home with a photo of eye shine.
I’ve been learning some nifty PS edits. I added the arrow to the photo! Night photography is not our forté. But hey, this is not a David Attenborough documentary, so we make do. Next, I lightened the image. Ta da!
Where has the year gone, ladies and gentlemen? Has it left a taste in your mouth? If so, I hope it fizzes on your tongue – the umami of friendships, happy reunions, sad farewells, betrayal, disappointment, joy, creativity, fellowship. community – the colour of life in all its hues.
The Colour Of The Senses
Can you smell purple? Can you feel blue? Can you see gold in the rainbow? Can you hear a ringing pearlescent edged with pink, taste a summer morning, luscious red on tender lips? Colours complementary or clashing, multi-sensory mix and match – can you smell, feel, see, hear, taste the colours coursing, massing, grooving, singing in the fellowship of man?
I took the first photo and wrote the little poem. The next two photos were taken by my True Love. I think that is a reasonable division of labour, even if I do say so myself.
Speaking of alley, here is an alley cat. I’m not a fan of cats. These next two photos aren’t my best photos because it was quite dark and my camera doesn’t like to focus on a moving subject in low light. She was a weird one. She gnashed her terrible teeth and dreamt of small birds.
Welcome to a little bit of everything – my Friday Song day, the Lens-Artists (Keep Walking) and Last Photo (for August) Challenges.
I jokingly said to someone recently that I like my solitary walks because when I go walking with my True Love, he always points out some small, fast moving creature that is off before I ever set eyes on it. Then, I feel like I’ve missed out on something. Over the years, I’ve found that is a feeling I have to let go. In any case, there’s always so much else to see if only I care to look. Do you feel that you must bring a photo home from every expedition? Do you always expect a medal for something good that you’ve done? Maybe we should focus on participating rather than the prize? If I can’t snap the small, fast moving creature, I am perfectly happy with a tree. Trees – there should be more of them.
Shall we have a story about what really happens at Tracy’s house? It is a difficult story to tell because I’m not sure we are doing the right thing by our pet canary. He used to be one of a small flock of house canaries. The little flock had a lovely life together, with free flight across the lounge room, luxurious baths, fresh greens picked for them from the garden, and seed treats, before being tucked into their cages for the night. Life was rosy but, like us, the little birds got old, until, only one, Pan of the wild song, remained.