smugmug

Some of my photography is hosted here. If you are interested in my efforts, feel free to check it out and offer up your impressions in the form of a comment.

imagery for victor

When friends are not around to help one another bear burdens it is a shame; something seems out of keel. I have decided to post these shots for my friend victor; if she sees these I hope they will put a smile on her face and let her know we are thinking about her fondly.

neighbourhood shots

I hope this field won't flood during the freshet! I like to check out the cattle in this field. Against the backdrop of Golden Ears and the Salmon R., the cattle in this field have a posh existence.












Luke likes to do chin ups on this apple tree branch. Currently he does 3 sets of 10. Though I love this apple tree for the shade it provides, clearly it does have other functions.



We are so thankful for our patio. It may not look like much to you, but it is a delight for Ramone and I and our friends.

free-sleep movement

I hope you can see the humour in this; the Q pointed me toward this flick and it made me chuckle. Enjoy...and go for it...have a snooze!

Be Ferocious: a recipe for the Canucks in Game 7

Below is an inspiring image for the Canucks tonight. Scott Stevens is taking a solid hit against a guy carrying the puck. Vancouver needs to do more of this sort of thing against Dallas tonight.


It is good to see the results of being ferocious against an enemy; this is what we need to see more of in the game tonight: discheveled Dallas defenders. Eric Lindros had his bell rung by Scott Stevens; note the 'get me out of here' look peering out from under the helmut? Well, we want to replicate that look among the Dallas Stars tonight.





And lastly, for still more inspiration and to show the Canucks what must be done tonight, here are Scott Steven's Top 10 hits:>

Visiting face to face...

Behave or we will come over to clean your windows.

Luongo, the PK and a sad Turco

The Vancouver Canucks are now one win away from moving on to the second round of the Stanley Cup Playoff. I think being 3-1 up in a best of seven series with Luongo in net bodes well. The Canucks must maintain their intensity against Dallas, however. I recall the Canucks being up 3-1 in games against the Wild in 2003, and losing game 5 at home and then succumbing in the series. No such loosening of the reins this time: as a fan I want to see some more of this:>



And, to be sure, the fans would like to see more of this; as much as the Canucks can produce:>



Do not have tears for Turco, as he is accustomed to failure in playoff situations. This will be just another walk in the playoffs for this sad, very rich goalie.

The Q and the wildManlyman do Pascha!

No words needed here, the joy of paschal feasting is clearly evident! I wish a joyous Bright Week to the few and courageous who check out my blog!

As an aside: what is enjoyed most during Bright Week? Is it drink, is it the meat, the cheese, the chocolate? Or is it the festive company? Think about that. There are some interesting implications in how we answer.

Tomorrow I am going to start preparing to spend Thomas Sunday up at Hemlock, feasting and smoking the paschal pipe. I am looking forward to doing a whole lot of nothing in particular.

The trampling of death

So tonight I will celebrate the desolation of death, the trampling down of death. This is so good that it surpasses words, but being a non-artistic man I have no alternative way to express myself other than through my limited words. The image I have chosen concerns a battle with a demon, in this case Gandalf's enemy from the ancient realm, a balrog. I think Christ going down to hell and vanquishing it would have been even more harsh than Gandalf's battle; just think how cool that will be to learn about in the coming life! Christ's victory over death allows us to smile at our demons and twig their noses. Christ's victory allows me to point out that even death has no sting for those holding to Christ's very great promise.

Yes tonight even I will sing of Christ's glorious resurrection; where He tramples down death by His own death, hoodwinking the demons and mocking the sting of hell. O what else matters?

The processional hymn we sing gives the clue:

Your Resurrection, O Christ our Saviour,
The angels in heaven sing,
Enable us on earth to glorify You
In purity of heart.

Thus the answer to what matters: to give God His due. Note: no mention is made about how agreeable this will be for us; there is merely an indication that we must glorify Him, and that His trampling of death affords us an opportunity to do this with a pure heart. This is useful to know, for the beating those demonic forces received must have been incredible and smashing. So the time now is a sort of clean up battleground where the skirmishes are part of that ungodly fallout. Thus tonight I will go to Church keeping in my mind that I must continue to fight my own balrog.

Ah, balrog, you haven't learned the futility of kicking against the goads of God! For He is Risen indeed!

Things around me

Often I get email requests to post about things I photograph. So this post will be about the miscellaneous things around me that I shoot.

This first snapshot is of some gerberas that Ramone has a fondness for. I used a 13cm focal length lens to zoom in on the flower heads; I am rather satisfied with the composition. These flowers are currently gracing our kitchen island.

This second snapshot is of my favourite subject, the old apple tree bordering the patio in my backyard. This is a close up of the trunk. I am fascinated endlessly by this tree. From different angles, in different light and weather conditions, etc., this tree has so many faces, as do most trees. There is a good reason the Psalmist claims that even trees sing of God's glory, and this may well be why great minds like Tolkein's have seen trees as having characteristics such as wisdom and serenity. If you look hard enough into the depth of field bokeh in this shot, you can just make out the Ent-like face that this tree possesses. If I were naming this face, I would call him 'Norbert', as he seems rather too stodgy; of course the irony is that I find Norbert fascinating.



This next shot is of a row of well-tended garlic sprouts. The eldery gentleman lives alongside Nathan Creek, a small tributary of the mighty Fraser R., and he takes very diligent care of his little garden. He has 40 year old bamboo trees shading his property from harsh wind and blistering summer sunshine.



What would a post like this be without a snapshot of my husky, Echo? It has been terribly rainy these last three weeks, but two days ago I went out walking in the glorious sunshine on a dyke beside the Fraser R. and took this picture of Echo after he had been in Nathan Creek chasing a blue heron to no avail. Sometime I hope to get a good snapshot of a blue heron.

All of these shots were take on my Leica M3 and 50mm Summicron lens with 400ISO film. I had them developed and scanned to a CD for me at London Drugs.

Orr and the jetsam of my mind

There has not been a better defenceman in hockey than Bobby Orr. This is an important truth to bear in mind if you are a canuck. Our homeland raised up the closest thing to the platonic form of defenceman; we have every reason to be glad and delight in his prodigious achievements! Orr makes me want to stand up and sing O Canada; Orr makes me want to eat nuts; Orr is a warrior and a humble manly man. Enough about Orr for the time being, suffice it to write that Bobby Orr was a poet with a hockey stick!

300 is not for little kids, but it is for manly men and women. On a number of different levels the film was so very fine. First it deals with spiritual challenges and warfare. My favourite line was spoken by King Leonidas when he explained to his fellow warriors "...there will be no surrender or going back." For we who battle together against the enemies of our souls this is no less true. However much the goal of our walk is peace and joy, the reality now is that we are at war; and this war requires men and women to battle even to the death. 300 teaches us that we ought never to shirk this duty; it goes further indeed: the story implies that it is a honour to fight for what we do, that it brings glory. Now admittedly the glories we tend toward are different than in the story, but the principle is easily transposed to our type of glory and warfare. It is indeed a hard lesson many do shirk all too easily in our age, and thus it is good to have the idea stressed in this story. Toward the powers of this age: no retreat, no giving in. Orthodox mothers should teach this notion to their babies from the beginning; in the next point we will see why.

Secondly the battle mocks death. Mocking death is highly underrated in movies and amongst those who watch them. This has to do with a death-denial attitude quite prevalent in our secular environs; but this is not for us, we should smile and make cracks at death. Of course the Spartans under Leonidas had less reason than we to do so, which of course makes it all the more impressive that, when the 300 warriors are told by 5000 Persians to put down their weapons, we hear Leonidas mockingly reply, "Come and get them!" When death is mocked, such a thing makes the manly man in me delight.

Thirdly it tells of manliness. This was my best friend's favourite line in the show. While a Persian messenger is offended because the Spartan Queen had the nerve to address him, she defends herself by stating that "only Spartan women give birth to men." We can transpose this too. Just as the implication in the script is that other women merely give birth to males or females, not manly humans; we also can and should claim that only Orthodox women give birth to christ-bearing men who will fight against the principalities -- other women give birth to merely engendered humans. This gives us a fresh take on raising spiritual warriors, martyrs and defenders of the faith.

There are numerous other good lessons to take from 300 that could be helpful, especially about the nature of evil in the world, of our passions and the perversity possible in human nature. But these will suffice for now.

Q's wife, Stephan0s

Tonight we are heading over to dine at the Qs. Stephanie is celebrating her birthday and we are more than happy to engage in the festivities, especially if any of the festivities involve eating non-Lenten chow. This year I have been quite strict in my Lenten observance of the fasting rules; but there is definitely a time to throw them aside. For was it not said, analogously about the Sabbath, that the fast was made for man, not man for the fast?

As happens when the more perfect comes along, we move toward it, putting aside what was less perfect; so this is the case with friendship and giving thanks. Inasmuch as the Lenten fast is a good means, the more perfect end of a celebrating and giving thanks for a friend's life takes precedence. My God taught much the same in regard to His own presence. So tonight I look forward to giving thanks for Stephanie's life! Ah, it is good to give thanks unto the Lord...indeed. Yes it is true that most of what we do involves taking a leap of faith. But one must weigh the evidence and discern what is and what ought to be; this is my hope for the wife of the Q!

God grant you may years, health and all the joy of salvation, StephanOs!

buddies

Ramone has a solid relationship with our kids. The snapshot I took of her and our son shows two buddies having a chuckle. Luke's a big guy; just look at his 11 year old hands and size 9 feet for proof. He is now the same height as Ramone; I think in the photo Ramone had shoes on and Luke didn't. I am glad Ramone has a good relationship with Hannah and Luke. Sadly my relationship with Hannah and Luke is very much that of an enforcer; sometimes I think they see me as the angry, frustrated Dad. Well, that is partially true. There are a few important things that portrait misses though. But this entry isn't about my relationship with our kids. I intend to give thanks here for the deep, friendly and caring relationship that Ramone has developed with our kids. Ramone is not a flamboyant person, so her appeal to our kids is not based on how cool she is. Rather it is based on her geniune care for -- and interest in -- their daily activities and lives. Almost every evening Ramone goes and talks about the day's events with the kids while they are getting ready for bed; she takes an interest in their TV show; she talks to them about their friends. I am so glad that Ramone can do these things with such love and sincerity; and our kids know they can trust in her to be this way.

Though I have entitled this entry "buddies", I should emphasize that Ramone is not viewed as a 'friend' by our kids; she is still very much an authority figure to them. I wish I could find a way to be more like Ramone is as a parent while still being me.

Some of you might be interested in browsing Luke's new blog.

crocus snapshot

Today Hannah is sick and I am home taking care of her, although this function requires very little in the way of nursing skills. Outside the weather is lovely; a welcome change from the rainy, chilly wetness we have endured recently. Though I don't look forward to cutting the lawn weekly, I do long for the spring time weather and light. This snapshot I took on Saturday of the first flowers of spring can give us reassurance that the seasonal tide is shifting.

I am so glad to be able to rest at home through Spring Break. I dedicate this snapshot to Ramone because she loves the first signs of Spring.

more battles and the violent archers

So today I met with my daughter's teachers to establish some hardcore organizational routines she will have imposed on her in the third term. The little Bohannahs is a bright kid but lacks motivation; she defaults to the easy way, as she is a slacker par excellence. This needs to be curbed if she is to fight demons successfully.

In other news, I rode my new blue two wheeled stallion out to battle my legion of demons again; I met with another arse of woe and a lot of direct wind in my face. I found it cold down along the river today. The ride was very slow for me, but I beat down my laziness and wounded the slacker-demon with my laughter and fortitude.


Also I recovered two old cameras this afternoon; I stripped the old damaged leather off of them and put a new leather covering on them: I am very satisfied with the job, even though I stabbed my left index finger while doing the work. Have you heard of the Violent Archers? They have a couple of very good tunes worth checking out if you care to listen to what I like: "Coordinates" and "End of Part I" provide decent listening for those with thirsty ears.

More Lenten Games...

:::Listening to "Gore Veil" by The Deadly Snakes:::

As one of my students recently brought to my attention, many songs seem to go with certain scenes in our lives. Examples could be multiplied to illustrate this. So be forewarned that to appreciate the fullness of this post, a reader should surf over to radio3.cbc.ca and tune in this wonderful song. You might want to read the previous post for some sense of what I am getting at. Blaise Pascal would like this post...I think.

So today I rode my 23km route along River Road to further my ascetic approach to life. And as I was riding along, I thought to myself, "this ride is killing my arse" and "what a game life is"; also the irony of my lenten struggles gave me time to laugh and cough at the recent struggles my wife and I have been through. So in the suffering of a woeful arse and a sadly depleted lung volume, I had to smile at my lot. I have had two bikes stolen, a car stolen and found, a huge income tax payment all come upon me in the last two weeks. What kind of game is this? And make no mistake it is a game: and I must play. So until I lose my ability to choose, I will play the game. And today I learned about the importance of smiling in the game.



The game has been rolling since my birth, but today I realized that I have been thrust into this game without my choice. This caused me some initial agitation, but the fact remains: I can now. I have no choice but to play the game now; even choosing not to play would be how one would play. Thus today I played the ascetic game and I did battle against some badass demon or demons; and today I know I made some progress for I heard him whince as the blade of my smile went "KUNCH" into his thigh. For you must understand that I learned a small truth today about my enemies: that laughing in the face of woe frustrates the demon a little. For what are we for but to take joy and smile at things? It is important to bear in mind the correlation between smiling and joy. They seem to be linked like people and love; for without other people how could we love? So without joy how could we smile? As we were created for joy, so we are meant to smile at the experience of joy however faint. Accordingly that is the whole point of the game and the badass demons don't want us to do what we are created to do. I found it to be quite simple in that one moment of clarity while my saddle-sore arse was complaining and my lungs wanted more air: I played my trump card. I thought to the demon: do as you may, give it your best, but today I laugh at you, at your attempts to make me give up, for today I will smile back at you and chuckle as I keep peddling, I will die laughing if it comes to that. Yes, I know you have had your way with me before, but not today...not now. I laugh at whatever you bring, even a flat tire: I will carry this brand new bike over my shoulders and I shall run...today I smile back at you, today you have no sting that will bring me down.

Simple as it may seem I did laugh and smile all the way home.

So tomorrow I am going out again to face my demons on my blue two-wheeled stallion. Of course I know they will regroup and attack me differently...but can't I learn to laugh at the misfortune they may test me with on another beach head of my life? I shall see and I may fail indeed; but today I smiled at woe, even at death: there is only one cure for annoyances, things that irritate, depress you --- smile right back at them and refuse not to laugh. Remember the game and fight against those who would keep us from smiling. I will remember what I am made to do.

I will try to keep these things to mind during the rest of this particular part of the game called Lent.

Paschal Games

Peter Leithart wrote this following article, and it is useful to read such things during Lent, our biggest Orthodox 'game'.

The anonymous alliterative Middle English poem “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” is one of the gems of Western medieval literature. It gives a colorful portrait of court life, of heaped tables fringed with silk, knights and ladies in stately order, “velvet carpets, embroidered rugs, studded with jewels as rich as an emperor’s ransom.” Its attention to detail is remarkable. It is a rare poet who sees poetic possibilities in butchering a deer, but the Gawain poet lingers over the slaughter for thirty fascinating lines. Above all, as several of my students have emphasized to me recently, what marks the poem is its tone of utter and undiluted jollity. Everything in the poem is turned into sport, and friendly sport at that.

The sporting begins when Christmas festivities at Camelot are interrupted by the appearance of a strange knight, green from head to toe, who rides his green horse into Arthur’s hall and challenges the famed knights of the round table to join him in a bit of fun, “a Christmas sport for the season.” As it turns out, the game is a decapitation contest: one of Arthur’s knights is asked to swipe an axe at the Green Knight, and the Green Knight will have his chance to return the blow during the holiday season the following year, at his Green Chapel. Not surprisingly, the offer is greeted with stunned silence, until Arthur agrees to take up the gauntlet. Sir Gawain is unwilling to put his liege in danger, and quickly volunteers in his place. He chops off the Green Knight’s head, which rolls under the table where the knights kick it around like a football. But the greatest marvel is still to come: in a scene of bizarre comedy, the Green Knight picks up his head, mounts his horse, and then the head opens its eyes to say, in essence, “See you next year.”

When the next Christmas season draws near, Gawain sets out on his quest. He arrives at a castle, where he is immediately challenged to another game. While the lord hunts, Gawain stays behind at the castle, and they agree that at the end of each day, they will exchange their winnings. The lord returns each day with his kill-a fox pelt, a wild boar, the meat from a deer. Gawain, meanwhile, lolls around in bed and is visited by the lady of the house, who kisses him each day. In the evening, the lord hands over his goods, and Gawain kisses him. On the third day of his stay, the lady gives Gawain a green belt, which she claims will protect him from the Green Knight’s blow, but Gawain doesn’t turn the belt over to his host. This is the moral center of the poem: since Gawain breaks his word out of fear of death, he fails to live up to the code of a knight.

Yet the poem does not end tragically. When the fateful day arrives, Gawain faces the Green Knight (who, as the reader has suspected, is the lord of the castle). The Green Knight takes a few swipes, but takes only a nick from Gawain’s neck (the charming Middle English word is “nirt”), as punishment for keeping the green belt to himself. Though Gawain experiences some mild shame at his failure, the Green Knight dismisses it and lets Gawain return home. When Arthur’s knights hear the tale, they laugh off Gawain’s error, and all the knights agree that they will wear the green belt in turns as a sign of solidarity. Gawain may have acted in unknightly fashion, but it does not affect his standing or reputation at all. All is sport, and any violations of the rules are cheerfully forgiven.

Whether it’s decapitation, seduction, or a knight breaking his oath, the poem is pervaded by an air of light joviality and playfulness. Little is taken seriously, including the reality of sin and the probability of death. Not even the headless horseman is fearsome: as they watched the Green Knight ride away carrying his head, “Arthur and Gawain grinned at the joke, and laughed at the green man,” as if he were some harmless leprechaun. The same point can be made from the other direction: what’s missing from this poem of knights and ladies is precisely what you expect from a poem of knights and ladies-tournaments, jousts, damsels in distress, combat to the death, all that Walter-Scottish stuff and nonsense. The poet tells us briefly that Gawain encountered the standard adventures and adversities on his way to the Green Chapel, but he passes over them in a few lines, so eager is he to get Gawain to the castle and his next game.

“Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” is hardly typical of medieval romance, which can be as full of illicit sex and edge-of-the-seat adventure as any contemporary film. But the very existence of the poem is testimony to the achievement of Western Christendom. That a civilization should produce such a “hero” and such a “heroic” poem says something profound about the character of that civilization.

Comparison with the heroes of antiquity is especially striking. For Achilles and other Homeric heroes, life affords a few passing moments during which the hero has a chance to achieve immortality. Every hero knows he will die, and soon, and knows too that the world of shades holds no attraction. If he is going to survive, he must live and die so as to achieve an eternal reputation. Man-killing Achilles, as Auden said, “will not live long,” but if he leaves mountains of corpses on the battlefield during his brief life, at least his name will endure. Similarly, the worst fate that Odysseus can imagine is death, alone, without witnesses or glory, floating on a plank of his ship in the open sea. Lives of ancient heroes were infused with a palpable anxiety that life would not provide sufficient opportunity for immortality, and this heroic mentality did not die with the last of the ancient warriors. The “cosmic resignation” (Paul Tillich) of the Stoic was ultimately a Socratic resignation before death, and the apparent joy of the Epicurean “eat, drink, and be merry” was a philosophy of life only because it was followed by “for tomorrow we die.” Ancient warrior culture is a culture built on the fear of death.

In “Gawain,” by contrast, there is no fear of death, and the games, unlike the agonistic sports of the ancient heroes, are just games, without ultimate consequence. Something happened between the Iliad and “Sir Gawain,” something that left a profound mark on the Western soul, something that no amount of political or social change can account for. Somehow, sometime, a shadow lifted, and in the light of day, men and women began to play, and play joyfully, in the face of death. Somehow, somewhere, men (especially men) learned to smile and even, like Hamlet’s gravediggers, sing at the edge of their graves. This is more than a variation on Epicurean hedonism, with its frenetic efforts to cheat death. It is something new, something that allows men to admit the inevitability of death, and to relax.

From this angle, “Sir Gawain” is not only a classic of medieval poetry but has a role to play in a Christian apologetic. The central Christian event is the Resurrection, and the central Christian announcement is that by the events of Easter, death has been defeated, and because it has been, it will continue to be defeated. Noting Earthquakes, September 11th, African famines, AIDS, volcanoes, and floods, however, unbelievers naturally demand evidence that Easter did what Christians claim. And Christians cannot duck the question, or retreat into a noumenal gospel according to which death was defeated in some “spiritual” realm. If Life really did struggle with Death, there must be some traces of the battle in the historical record; if this battle really took place, we should expect to find not only splintered arrows, shattered spear points, and crushed bones littering the field; we should expect to find some relics of the victor.

Athanasius insisted that the Resurrection did leave traces everywhere, especially among those specifically Christian heroes, the martyrs, men, women, and children “who, before they believe in Christ, think death horrible and are afraid of it, [but] once they are converted despise it so completely that they go eagerly to meet it.” Hardened skeptics doubtless were unconvinced even by martyrs, and may not find a literary proof of the Resurrection much more compelling. Yet “Sir Gawain” remains a witness of some weight, a trace of Easter, an objective sign of the defeat of death embedded in Western literature. And it is a trace of peculiar value because it shows that the Easter message that “He is Risen” translates not only into a martyr’s taunt-“Death, I now decry you”-but into a festive invitation-“Let the games begin.”

Johnny Canuck on the Canuck's new uniform

According to numerous, perhaps false reports, the new Canucks uniform looks absolutely smashing! One can only hope that the Canucks get rid of the Orca and go back toward this retro-look. It is a good blend of the past and the present. Most fans of the Canucks prefer the original jerseys over any subsequent design. I concur with this thinking. The current orca is silly; it seemed to me more of a corporate logo for the company -- Orca Bay -- that owned the Canucks prior to the current local ownership. I love the Johnny Canuck logo that Luongo wears on his retro face mask; the Canucks should put it on the jersey itself as seen in this prototype. The orca has nothing whatsoever to do with the Canucks or hockey. It is high time for a change to what was better. I hope this view prevails; if it does, I would consider buying a jersey. The only remaining question would be which player number to stitch on it. There are a number of current candidates: Linden, Luongo, Naslund. Some of the older Canucks would be possibilities, too.

I am home from work today; my illness is nothing serious, and after another day of rest and recuperation my sore throat, sinus infection and accompanying headache should be tolerable enough to go to work with. I am so fatigued with the end of second term marking and reporting that my body has succumbed to the bugs. But I know the routine. I am very much awaiting the two week Spring Break after this Friday!

In other news I picked up my replacement Prophet. It rides well, though I say that having only gone on one very short ride. I am still wanting the blood of the thieves who stole my original Prophet. But over time I hope to get over it; isn't there a saying which runs something like this: "It is fruitless to become lachrymous over precipitately departed lacteal fluid?" So like Celine I will go on, trying to turn the other cheek, not thinking about the spilled milk.

///listening/// Bright Eyes: LIFTED or the Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground

canucks, bikes, and lenten hands

So the Canucks have a decent team this year; truly even my best friend doubted the grounds for my faith in this hard-working, defensively minded squad. GM Dave Nonis took my advice to heart and got a goalie. Luongo has been very solid for the Canucks; and the Canucks seem built to play close playoff-style games. We shall see as the schedule runs deeper into March...

In other news, I stopped in at Gregory's bike shop today and put a down payment on a replacement prophet. I am looking forward to sealing the deal once the insurance money comes through. The only downside is that I have no choice with regard to the frame colour; accordingly my bike will be blue. This colour difference doesn't really matter, though I do prefer black for a bike.

Still in other more important news, lent is fully upon us. I wish the time would pass more quickly; the lenten time period wears away a huge aspect of my joy in life. Yes, you guessed it: good hearty chow; food, glorious food. And by food I don't mean mere nutritional energy in any form: I mean glorious food, and that means meat, wine and cheese. During lent such joys are replaced by the clapping of lenten hands. Ah, the smack of contrition and the consolation of repentance. For me the tender mercy in this is the end of it. Pascha brings back all that is joyful and full of light; hence to that aim: tendebantque manus ripae ulterioris amore.

Stolen Prophet

Some unwiped a**holes came by and stole two bicycles from us. I am upset, frustrated and want venegance, even despite knowing to Whom venegance belongs. Thus sadly this sin against me has caused me to fall further into sin. My bike was a cannondale prophet. I will miss it; the other bicycle stolen was my stumpjumper -- a classic mountain bike. So long good prophet and stumpjumper, you guys served me well! If my insurance allows me, I will consider replacing my prophet with a good touring bike. But we shall see. For me the lamest part is that things are financially tight and paying the insurance deductible may not be possible now; and presently the weather is clearing and becoming suitable for after-work rides. Hence another of my frustrations.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: Over and over again

The lead singer in this group has yet to admit that he is David Byrne's son, but the admission seems imminent for those with ears to hear! Enjoy:>

TV On the Radio: Wolf Like Me

These guys absolutely rock! Here they are performing on Letterman:>

Leica Shots

I have decided to post some snapshots I have taken with my Leica M5 and IIIc over the last month. I am pleased with these results; I hope you will enjoy these images, too! They are available light shots, as I refuse to use any form of flash.


This is a copperbeech tree near our house. I shot this while out walking Echo, my husky. Below is a shot of the extremely heavy snowfall we endured and enjoyed in early January. I opened the aperature and slowed the shutterspeed down in order to retain a sense of the snow's falling motion. It was taken at night while the snow was piling up on our backyard patio.

6 word story

Write a six word story for this snapshot:>

Herzog Exhibition

On Saturday Ramone and I took our kids to view the Fred Herzog Photography Exhibit at the Vancouver Art Gallery.

Herzog was born in Germany and emigrated to Canada after WWII. During the 1950s he began to chronicle on film the life of Vancouver. Seeing the snaps brought back so many memories of the "ah, yeah, I remember that!" variety. The old buses, the prices of foods, the shape of cars, and the many coca cola images brought on some of the strongest recollections.

As a huge admirer of street photography, Herzog's work captured my imagination. One of the notable aspects of Fred Herzog's work is that he choose to work in colour Kodachrome.
Though my preference is usually for the subtly and suggestiveness of black and white film work, I found that Herzog's Kodachrome shots were somehow more full of vitality; the snapshots somehow show the time period more effectively. Yet I cannot say why.

The exhibit is on the third floor of the VAG and I highly recommend going. Especially interesting for those who have lived in Vancouver, it will still be full of wonder for those who haven't. My daughter found the old fashions interesting, whereas my son found the way the buildings looked in the photographs compared to now to be very interesting. The differences got him thinking.
That in itself is a good thing; as thoughtfulness is always to be preferred to being thoughtless. Another thing my kids found out about through Herzog's images concerns the concept of inflation. Take a peek at the prices at the Paris Cafe on Main Street. What would one pay now in 2007 for the same meal options?

I had to chuckle at the cheesy Santa items. That poor fake tree; how much more tinsel could it take?

How many of you remember the Pepsi-Santa advertising association? Through all of Herzog's work he does a fine job hazing out those aspects peripheral to the subject of his image. This is called 'bokeh'. And Fred Herzog's images use bokeh to great advantage.

Flies, Rivers and Bright Eyes

Starting to think about casting my flies. This wonderful shot of the Capilano R. does not indicate where I will head. It does indicate, however, why I will head out. Look more closely if you do not see my reason.

It is there.

In other news, a student of mine gave me a copy of Bright Eyes' album "Fevers & Mirrors"; I have given it a good listen while farting around during this evening. I enjoy the album as a whole but the tracks 'Something Vague' and 'Movement of a Hand' are the catchiest tunes initially. The album shows the perspicacious thoughts of the song writer for the band. 'When The Curious Girl Realizes She Is Under Glass' is a tune that has a haunting series of aural images which captured my attention and got me thinking. The harsh phone-off-the-hook sound initially bothered me, but I think I get the point. It plays into the 'fevers' motif of the album; those things which keep you up at night, calling your conscience, etc.. The Fiddler on the Roof inspired 'Sunrise, Sunset' is steadily growing on me; it has the notion of futility and the circularity of the day wrapped together in a most curious way.

Ramone is home. Time to chat.

kicking at the new blogger

So am I here at this converted kick.against.the.goads for now. I dig this new version of blogger and how it is tied to gmail; for gmail roxxers the boxxers!

Here is another beautiful photo of the camera and lens Hannah and Luke gave me for Christmas; take note of the sexy beast operating the all mechanical, precision instrument.

Well for now I will post this rather lame entry to be sure that this account works. My thoughts and prayers of late have been focussed on the numerous young families with babies and those expecting a newborn at my parish.

Leitz Elmar 5cm 3:5 lens

My son graciously gave me this pictured Elmar lens as well as a Leica Summitar lens for Christmas; and I love using both on the Leitz IIIc body Hannah gave me (which is pictured in my previous post below). Thanks heaps and heaps, Luke and Hannah!!! I am sure Ramone does not appreciate their generosity, but she will in time learn to forgive their lack of thrift and move on to other joys and worries.... :)

In other news I have slowly started to enjoy Sufjan Stevens' music; more specifically his song "Transfiguration" off of his album Seven Swans is such a beautiful tune. I maintain the oboe is what makes the song have a magical feel. But the story Sufjan has to work with is no slouch.

Today our house was entirely un-Christmased; all of our decorations are now wrapped, boxed and waiting to celebrate the glory of Christ's Nativity next December 25th. I will miss the lights of Christmas.

To make matters one bit harsher I just noticed that the Lenten pattern starts earlier than I am used to this year; Zaccheus Sunday is coming two weeks from now on Jan.21st! I know that is not the real beginning to Lent, but it serves as a huge kick in my spiritual arse; the upside being that Pascha comes so much sooner, too:)