Other places for other times

Once I wrote a post about where I write (Where I write). There is photo of that spot in another post (Not that you were even wondering). Obviously it is a place that inspires me, but just because I have a favorite place doesn’t mean it is the only place I ever sit down at the keyboard (or with pen and paper).

One of the reasons we chose this house was because it had a very nice studio space already fixed up. I was doing some freelance photography at the time and one of our house hunting goals was to find a place that I could have set up to shoot on a permanent basis. I was tired of having to set up what were sometimes elaborate studio set-ups in our living room and then take them down at the end of the day whether I was shooting the following day or not.

My studio was originally a one car garage. I don’t know if it is as old as the house, but I bet it is close, and I enjoy romanticizing the idea of setting up my photo hut in a 1923 garage. As I mentioned, it is fixed up thanks to a previous owner who did a wonderful job finishing it out so that it has better insulation, less drafty windows, newer wiring and a more secure door than the rest of the place.

It also has two north facing windows that look out onto our back yard. The yard has evolved over the fifteen years we have lived here. We have replaced the St. Augustine lawn and more standard shrubs with wildflowers and other native plants and trees. There was one vegetable garden here (There were even tomatoes growing when we moved in — this was definitely the right place!) and I have added two more raised vegetable beds and an herb garden.

The studio is where I sit to write if I want to have a view of nature while I’m writing. It’s always been a good place to sit and plot changes to the yard and watch the birds and squirrels going about their daily routines.

For example, there is Turk’s cap right outside the window and this year it has given me an opportunity to observe hummingbirds going about their business from just a couple of feet away. For some reason I’m not as interested in trying to capture them with my camera any more and prefer to just observe them and revel in their near presence. It both invigorates me and gives me a calm sense of oneness with the nature that surrounds me—even in an urban setting.

Autumn is making its approach in fits and starts and the hummingbirds are moving south. I will miss the pleasant sounds of their faerie voices announcing their daily arrivals but I look forward to other residents and travelers who frequent my oasis of nature within the city.

A Breeze

Listen to the wind
Softly making its way through
Trees out my window

Autumn Arrival

Beautiful spring morn
Leads to summer afternoon
Hmm, it feels like fall.

Rain

Mesmerized by rain,
The sound, the sight and the scent,
Again I’m captured.

Falling Into Summer

Even though we didn’t get the rain, things have cooled down and the air feels wonderful this morning.

Yesterday I felt a little hint of fall in the air as clouds rolled in and the temperature stayed lower than usual.

Today, with the clear clean sky and the birds singing, it feels more like spring or maybe what a summer morning would feel like someplace where the season is not so cruel. I hear there are such places, but my experience with them is so distant that I question my memory and their very existence.

Days like yesterday give me a little hope to help me make it through the month that starts tomorrow. August, the long hot month, makes me wonder what we are in for, having had such a merciless July. Then, of course there’s September too because I’ve learned that around here it’s a good idea to not expect too much of autumn until October.

At least I now have that little bit of hope and believe once again that fall does exist.

Feeling Friday

Friday evening and the white-winged dove makes its plaintive cry somewhere nearby. Sometimes they are relentless, going on and on like a lonely vendor in an out of the way stall at closing time, crying out to passers by as it tries to make a few more sales before having to go home to a hungry family.

This is that Friday time. This is that time—that expectant time that feels so full of possibilities, so full of freedom. This is that time—that time that never quite was and never is, always nostalgic without having any definable basis in past events. This is that time—filled with falsehoods and nothing solid, yet always feeling wonderful just the same. It’s that Friday evening feeling and the plaintive cry of the white-winged dove fits it perfectly.

Sunset on a Friday evening

Little square pops in my yard

The Spring morning sunlight has my yard popping with color

Please be sure to mouse over the photos to get the full effect — I love my theme but until the photos become active they are somewhat muted.

On clear mornings I enjoy watching the sun shine through the small bright leaves on this althea in my backyard.

I would have never planted this ornamental plum myself (it was here when I moved in), but I have grown to love the variety of colors that it can appear based on lighting, season and time of day.

Here’s a closeup of one of the althea leaves. Even the background has popping spheres of color!

What Texas Spring photo series would be complete without these. They may be used in photos a lot but the color really is beautiful.

These dianthus (pinks) overwinter well and bloom profusely season after season. They are an incredibly dependable source of color.

We planted this coral honeysuckle several years ago and every year it gets more full of blooms – with minimal care on our part.

Even Omar wanted to get in on the act and popped up on the yard cart for a little morning sun and meditation.

 

Here’s what warm light looked like

Yesterday…

The first rays of warm morning sunshine make these young leaves sparkle.

and today

Viewing the results of this morning’s hailstorm from a warmly lit room.

It’s Alive!

This artichoke plant is taking over the whole bed in which it was planted.

I planted a tiny artichoke plant last fall and now I’m starting to wish I had planted it somewhere else. It’s only mid March and the plant is already huge. Shooting this plant from above led to some fun working with the shadows.

Cabbage, cabbage where’s my cabbage?

Can you find the tiny cabbage in the shadow of the out of bounds artichoke? This plant might be shading the whole house by the time summer rolls around.

Who dares to venture into the ancient dark forest of artichoke?

Up close it makes me think of some kind of prehistoric plant.

Results are in, Spring still my favorite season

I was thinking of putting “Your Ad Here” on the stone next to my rain gauge.

Much of what I think about water these days has to do with rain. When I grew up in south Louisiana, I took water for granted. It rained a lot, we lived right next to a bayou and there was water nearby in every direction.

Now I appreciate every drop. Gardening viability, tree health, drinking water supplies — these things are on my mind frequently. The first real post on this blog was about rain.

This is a rain gauge that Julie gave me for our anniversary. Who knew that 21 years is frog yard art! So far I’ve been very glad to see this little garden helper get plenty of action. The frog seems okay with it too.

This always ready frog and I love the same things – being in the garden and rain.