Not as interesting as some wood I’ve seen, but nonetheless, it’s definitely wood. In various forms. Another cool challenge from Nancy Merrill!
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE ONE OR MORE PHOTOS WHERE THE SUBJECT IS SHOWN FROM THE BACK.
I shoot so much from the back that friends have finally stopped asking me why I do it. That probably proves something, but I’m not sure what.
In one way or another, every picture we take records history, capturing a moment that will never be repeated.
Garry’s parents wedding, 1941. Photographer unknown, moments caught forever.
This week, the Weekly Photo Challenge asks us to share a symbol and explain what it means to us.
Since we are using personal symbols — as opposed to universal, religious, or mathematical symbols — I’m using my old tractor.
My husband gave me the tractor for our tenth anniversary, just a couple of months after we moved into this house. I had admired them, lined up in front of the farm up the road and had noticed some of them were for sale.
I said “That would be so cool in the garden. Kids could play on it. We could climb it. It’s a reminder of our rural roots. An old farm tractor.”
About a week later, a flatbed truck showed up and dropped the tractor in our driveway. My son and a bunch of his friends pushed it into a better location. We found an old Model-T steering wheel and a long out-of-use license plate. Owen scored a seat on eBay.
We built a rock garden around it and planted the Japanese maple in front of it. The tractor can never be removed from the garden without completely deconstructing it.
For fifteen years, the old 1927 Fordson tractor has lived in the garden, surrounded by day lilies, rocks from the old stone fence in the woods. Roses trail over it. It’s part of the land, part of our garden, a symbol of our life here in the Blackstone Valley.
Some people think it’s rusty junk. They don’t have a clue.
My hunky husband waters the plants. It’s part of the joy of summer. And the rich purple and red of the fuchsia. Fuchsia is such a rich color, it has become a color of its own.
As the season reaches its peak, the fuchsia begin to grow long, with trailing branches dropping past the fence on the deck.
I see fewer new blossoms, fewer buds, but more seed pods. It is high summer for us, but rounding the corner to the end of the season for fuchsia.
The pictures were taken using the Olympus PEN PL-6 with an f2.8 60 mm macro lens or the Pentax Q7 using an f1.8 8.5 mm prime “normal.”
Fresh fruit. I’ve become phobic and afraid of it. So much of it has been genetically modified. It doesn’t look like it used to look.
Oranges bigger than grapefruit, but the orange skin is half an inch thick and there’s no juice in it. Strawberries the size of plums, mushy and oddly tasteless. Peaches that weigh a pound each, as sweet as cardboard with the same texture.
Those weird fruits also rot pretty much immediately, before a single day passes. So far, they’ve left a few things alone. As far as I can tell, grapefruit and tangerines are still safe. But I won’t buy most fruit except at local farm stands. It’s like consuming an alien invader. Who knows what that stuff will do to you?
None of these pictures are brand new, though some are quite recent, taken within the past few months or weeks.
Definitely action shots … and that’s the point, right?
Action — at our age — usually means walking and talking. At the same time! At each age, we redefine the basics.