I don't really like seagulls.
They are large and beady eyed and steal your food if they possibly can.
However you have to admire their moxie.
Not a bad fate - standing around in shimmering water.
Lori's hydrangeas took quite a battering last endless, freezing, horrid winter so she chopped them back fiercely and now they've returned with a vengeance.
Barn red is a classic foil for green.
Ah, summer!
This winter has been horribly long and cold and snowy and altogether depressing. We were lucky enough to escape for ten days to Barbados. Here are some random photos. The first of beach vegetation.
Very shallow water
and patterns in the sand.
Someone else's castle.
A house in Bridgetown
and The Christian Science Chruch with splendid windows.
A bird who made off with a packet of sugar.
Limpid, blissful water at Mullins Bay.
Late afternoon
and, corny, beyond corny, tropical sunset with palm trees - very pretty anyway!
Robert Moses Beach on the south shore of Long Island last Thursday
I can stand and look at water for a very long time. The same with an open fireplace.
The birds are very busy looking for food.
and looking picturesque.
This is a very fine fellow.
Hm....fish
the fruits of the sea and madly picturesque and jolie laide...
so beautifully laid out here in Essouria where they'll cook one up for you just caught from the ocean.
They set out in little blue boats
full of important equipment
and mend nets.
The sea, like the fish, is beautiful and
frightening at the same time. Here a poor dead fish in Sidi Ifni.
and more strange creatures on the ground.
Here a silver of sardines -- much bigger than the horrid little canned ones we were forced to eat as children.
More silver creatures in Ifni
and pink ones too.
A rather different life from Rupert Brooke's philosophical English river dwellers:
Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
Earlier this week the weather was misty and English --quite unlike the clear piercing light we usually get.
On Monday morning the tall buildings were shrouded in fog. (Shrouded always sounds a bit melancholy and romantic.)
Even the tree by the Midtown Tunnel managed to look picturesque.
Billowing something or other between the buildings of Penn South.
Dusk looking towards 23rd Street.
All these bare trees remind me of photos I took several Decembers ago on the beach in Morocco
where magic forests were created by the tide pulling dark sand over light sand or viceversa. I have always kept these pictures when much else has been lost.
Such trees, or coral, or roots of teeth
Here trees reflected in water on 24th Street.
But back to the old misty business --Cold Spring Harbor on LI on misty Monday with the Hipstamatic filter
and the plain version.
Lastly Miss Gretchen -- like Diddle Diddle Dumpling my son John/One shoe off and one shoe on.
And the winner of the Novica gift code was commenter #6 DCW. I will send the code via email so you can buy someone a present from their new gift finder.
Run as fast as possible
to the edge of the water
to see the swan
and draw in the mud
run round the pond
to see the ducks
and look for turtles and fish underwater.
All photos taken in Huntington NY
Note: Robert has a painting in the show Urban Interections at the Quidley Gallery on Newberry Street in Boston. Opens Thursday Oct 25th. Do go if you're in Boston.
Ah! summer's end.....poor butterfly
but the crabs, scuttling through shallow water
seem to have thoughts of the future.
Almost no one on Sagg Main Beach. Granny dog and puppy Archer. We never discovered the third dog's name.
In the morning the sunlight cuts through the waves
in the early evening it's quite different.
Pondering change and the passage of time, it's cheering to discover that the Reverand Ebeneezer White lived to be 84. He died in 1756.
Gardiner B. Topping topped him -- living to be 91.
Nice, peaceful, nameless and lichen covered.
Sic gloria mundi.
Decided to discover the Rockaways --out beyond Brooklyn and Queens.
My husband holds that this is the best beach in the world.
I agree that it could be a contender. Personally, I like cliffs and rock pools and streams (that can be dammed). But it is a pretty good beach. We are here in the morning.
This seagull was the size of chicken and docile and just looked at us.
It reminded us a lot of our dog.
Seaweed....
A curious castle (not made by me) with twigs.
photo: Claudia Schmid
Afternoon on the North Shore of Long Island....
On the North Shore, the bi-furcated remains of a horseshoe crab.
At home in the city, the fruits of attempts at urban gardening: lavender and basil, orange cosmos, two kinds of salvia and a pink whose name I don't know.
Nice billowy clouds after a night of storms.
Two kinds of salvia and some oregano snipped on the roof where the tubs are running rampant. Beach basket awaiting an outing. It came from Essouira by the seaside in Morocco.
Breakfast and a jug from where we used to go to the beach when I was six.
Absurd yellow breakfast from the other day (on top of a drawing block).
Lemons for iced tea --the ideal summer drink -- on a napkin again from Maroc.
Same lemons before in a bowl......
which sits near the desk and the chair..... and so it all circles around: the past and the present and the idea of home. And the TV blares something silly about aging skin -- then shows us people in Syria whose homes are blown up -- so the trivial seems sweeter than ever.
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