another perfect morning

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

yesterday afternoon

I'm on a Polaroid kick. I have 9 boxes left, 10 photos per box, in my fridge. Polaroid film has been discontinued so I have 90 little pieces of photography treasure in my fridge. I've recently checked into the pricing of having some of my images made into giclee archival prints, beautiful saturated colour and printed on lovely heavy watercolour paper - the perfect paper for these already dreamy soft images. I think I'll have some single images printed and also a series of duos - I often take several shots of the same image from a different vantage point or with a different composition within that lovely Polaroid square frame. Still aiming for the end of the month - photographs for sale in my etsy shop.

It's a beautiful morning here this morning. The birds are all up and madly chattering and singing, beginning their days. The sky is soft and glowing with big pillowy clouds and the colour is still very pastel, sherbet like colours of pale pinks and oranges and turquoise. The air smells amazing ... of dew and green it's smells clean and fresh and salty. And there's not a breath of wind.

I overslept this morning, I was in the midst of one of those big dreams, epic dreaming- with a huge cast of characters, many locales, constantly shifting from scene to scene, never quite settling on any one theme, and really nothing of any major consequence ever seems to happen.

The village is perfectly quiet as I sit at my keyboard, coffee in hand, kittens (Oliver & Gus) happily watching morning arrive from their pillow topped window sill. All is good here at 29 Black Street. Always my favourite time of the day ... every new day, always with the promise of a new beginning.

I'd like a new beginning, subtly new, as so much in my life is already absolutely perfect. But there are themes that seem constant, that hang onto me, that I'd like to say goodbye to and new ones I'd welcome with open arms. I'm not completely sure how to make these changes, but I am sure being aware of them is a good first step.

We're nearing the half way point in this year ... a perfect time for a new plan, a next 6 months plan, a remainder of this 2008 year plan. 2008 a year that I know no matter what happens will always be the year I lost my best friend Jake, my love - my red retriever boy. A year that feels so spoiled and tainted with a heartache as deep as I've ever known. I want the next 6 months to be better, to be different. They say it's important to write your dreams down, to spend sometime visualizing them, all the fine details of a new & improved life. I think I'll make a new plan (you all know how I love to plan) with my dreams and goals and hopes for this next 6 months. I will spend sometime this evening, in my chair in the back garden, with the birds and my big glass of ice tea and Winnie Dixon nearby working on her big excavation and I'll begin to map out the details of my new plan.

Miss D. and a most perfect smooth stick


  1. Your photos are so great...I know they would be a big hit! :)

  2. thanks so much for the vote of confidence Willow !

  3. Your mornings sound prefecly lovely. I'm so sorry you've lost your beloved pet. I don't think everyone understands the pain in that loss.

    I think a plan sounds like a great idea. You'll certainly know which direction to place that first step.



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