A 360-degree sunset above the Housatonic River in Connecticut. If you stood on the dock and turned slowly in a circle, there would be a different color and formation of clouds in each bit of turning. I’ve never seen a sky like that before.
And then, there were clouds over the mountains in Arizona … and the mountains in Maine and Vermont. And sometimes, over the shore on Cape Cod, Massachusetts and Ogunquit, Maine.
Sunset through clouds on the road home in Massachusetts – February
On the Housatonic River in Connecticut – September
In Jackman, Maine – October
Rockport, Massachusetts – July
Ogunquit, Maine – September
The desert near Phoenix, Arizona – January
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Housatonic River marina with reflections – September
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Housatonic River – September
Photo: Garry Armstrong: Route 146 crossing Chocolog Road in Uxbridge. Golden trees in a February sunset
A strange golden sunset on the way home in Uxbridge – February
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Attean View, Jackman, Maine – October
Sunset over the Phoenix mountains, Arizona – January
Early morning – Vermont
Other than from the direction, you can’t tell if the sun is coming up or setting. I’ve done all the checking I can and in fact, the light is the same. It depends on the season of the year, but the coloring is identical otherwise.
Seagulls in Rockport
Sunset at home
And yet we are fascinated by the coming and going of the sun. Even when I was a child, I used to stand outside and watch the sky, sometimes for a full hour from late afternoon until final darkness, watching the delicate changes in the sky and the clouds and the way the light filtered through the trees.
I have not yet lost my wonder.
Sunset at the Marina
The rising sun in the mountains in October
A gull at sunrise
Sunset in Douglas
Sunset through clouds
WANDERING, BUT NOT LOST, IN
THE sOUTHWEST dESERT
Ironwood in the desert
Phoenix sunset – Photo: Garry Armstrong
For a woman raised in New York and living in Massachusetts, the desert is another world. The colors of the sky. The mountains jutting into the sky and giant cacti growing across the landscape. We have spent two vacations in Arizona and each has been glorious.
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Another sunset
Early in June, we went to the Blackstone River in Smithfield and met two kayakers. One was setting out in a blue kayak, the other in a red one.
The sun was bright and the blue of the kayak and the man’s blue lifevest reflected in the silky water.
It was a beautiful day and they decided to try paddling upriver. No one goes upriver, but we didn’t know why no one goes upriver. I’m assuming that there’s a falls up there or perhaps too many rocks.
We didn’t stay long enough to see how it went or how far they managed to paddle.
The blue Kayak
Blue sky, blue kayak and of course, blue water.
So. In the middle of June, we hopped down to the Curleys and hung out at the marina. It was a bit too rough to go out and to be fair, I’m just as happy in the marina as anywhere else. Being along the water is a treat, no matter what we are doing.
I took a bunch of pictures there and didn’t even get around to processing them. So here’s one … blue sky, blue canvas boat cover, blue water.
Blue skies on a bright day in June
Okay. I’m playing around a bit, but I took a lot of pictures of my garden today and there were so many pictures, one of them clearly needed to be blue.
After all, this IS a blue July, is it not? How could I pass up this magical opportunity to have a beautiful blue garden on this beautiful day in July?
This is my very blue garden full of daylilies of the normally orange kind.
A square, blue garden of daylilies
It has finally arrived and it’s going to be a blue, blue summer. Today, it’s the bright blue of the wild spiderwort in my garden.
Spiderwort is a strange plant and its blue color has a strong violet and pink undertone. So often, I take a picture of “blue spiderwort,” but when I post it on my computer, it’s bright violet-pink. No amount of color correction will fix it, either.
They come out blue if I take the picture in shade. Or — mostly shade. It’s something about the spectrum of sunshine that changes its color.
Spiderwort in its proper shade of deep blue.
I took more than 2000 pictures in May, but June, not so many. Part of that was taking down the bird feeders. I really miss the birds. I got a few bird pictures early in June before I emptied the feeders. I didn’t realize how much I counted on being able to take great pictures without driving somewhere or even trekking outside with the camera.
But on the other hand, Rich Paschall came to visit from Chicago and it was great. To finally meet someone you’ve known online for many years was a huge treat. Despite it raining the entire time he was here, we still managed to get outside to take some pictures.
Mostly, it has rained. We are hoping to paint our deck. Owen power washed it, but we need two days of dry weather and then a third to do the painting. We have yet to get three non-rainy days in a row. We live in hope.
The pictures which follow are mine and Garry’s, taken whenever and wherever it wasn’t raining. We tried to cover as much territory as we could. Not bad, all the wet weather considered!
Rich, Marilyn, and Garry by the Blackstone Canal
The stone bridge in the rain
More of a summer river
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Marilyn and Rich along the Canal
The big Canal locks and a couple of bloggers with cameras!
The Blackstone Canal
Rich and Garry
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Blackstone River
By the Blackstone in Smithfield, Rhode Island
Yellow flowers in the river
Kayaking in the summer
Tom and Ellin, Marilyn and Garry in the Marina, Connecticut
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Along the dock — Can you spot Tom?
Cleaning the boat
Photo Garry Armstrong
Queen Anne’s Lace again
Columbine along the picket fence
Still more buds than flowers, but a very quick movement
Field of flowers
Birds and Squirrels
Lady Cardinal on a branch
About The Changing Seasons
The Changing Seasons is a monthly challenge where bloggers around the world share what’s been happening in their month.
If you would like to join in, here are the guidelines:
The Changing Seasons Version One (photographic):
- Each month, post 5-20 photos in a gallery that you feel represent your month
- Don’t use photos from your archive. Only new shots.
- Tag your posts with #MonthlyPhotoChallenge and #TheChangingSeasons so that others can find them
The Changing Seasons Version Two (you choose the format):
- Each month, post a photo, recipe, painting, drawing, video, whatever that you feel says something about your month
- Don’t use archive stuff. Only new material!
- Tag your posts with #MonthlyPhotoChallenge and #TheChangingSeasons so others can find them.
If you do a ping-back to Su-Leslie’s post, she can update it with links to all of yours.
I’m glad for the open topic. I am feeling a bit over-structured lately. Been looking at older posts and realizing I’m losing my “zip.” Maybe life has just gotten too serious, but I definitely need my zippedy-doo-dah back!
Black & White Downy Woodpecker
Cold and icy!
Two TV persons. Guess which one is the weather guy?
With faded green by the stone bridge over the Blackstone River
Photo: Garry Armstrong
A lone Yellow-crowned Night Heron
Our house, while crumbling around the edges, is very comfortable. Years ago, we gave up fashion and went for soft furniture on which we can keep our (swelling) ankles up. The dogs like it too.
Comfort on the deck
It is not fashionable. It wasn’t fashionable 20 years ago and we are not fashionable either, so it works. The dogs don’t know about fashion. As long as they can find a soft spot on which to sleep, life is good.
It’s a rough life, but someone’s got to live it.
Bonnie and living room
Too many cushions
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Cold toes, but warm quilts!
This reminds me of a very (VERY) old joke I first heard as a little kid, maybe five or six.
“A big elephant is big and a little elephant is small. A big fly is big and a little fly is small. Therefore, a big fly is bigger than a small elephant.” This was the ultimate definition of a syllogism, at least for a first grader.
So small. How small?
These are Native American fetishes — very small ones. I do have bigger ones, but you asked for small and small you are getting!
ALL of these fetishes will fit comfortably in one of my hands. They are absolutely guaranteed — SMALL.
The healing bear and the ram
Black and white married wolves
“Like the Back of My Hand,” this has backs, fronts, and slightly sideways hands.
When we moved into this house, there was one bedraggled Azalea trying to stay alive in front of the house. It never got any sun and it was too close to the foundation, so it didn’t grow and never bloomed.
This year, for the first time, it actually bloomed with more than a single flower. It’s not brilliant, as Azaleas go, but it has come a long way since we transplanted it. It’s a full-sized bush, even if it doesn’t produce a lot of flowers.
A blooming white azalea! Ours! Golly!
These flowers used to grow on the other side of the driveway. In the garden, in a grouping with the daffodils. I don’t know how they wound up on the opposite side of the tarmac.
Wind? Birds? Bees? The driveway is too wide for any kind of natural spreading, so something moved them.
I was really surprised to see them. I thought they had died. I thought a lot of things had died. Some things did.
The old Rhododendrons died, but new ones popped up and are blooming. We have to cut down the dead ones and are planning to on Wednesday. We also need to cut down the Holly which isn’t a bush and has become more of a tree. A big, bushy tree.
We have about a thousand baby-sized maple trees trying to grow. And we have too many signs that the Gypsy moth caterpillars have come back.
NOW we need rain and a lot of it. Maybe a solid week of rain would kill them before they get their tiny fangs into our trees.
It’s the only thing that will stop them. I get totally depressed even thinking about them. The last time they showed up, I hid in the house for weeks while they killed off all our trees. I’m trying to not see it, pretending it isn’t happening, but I’m terribly afraid that it is. And this time, I simply can’t afford to bring in the spraying people.
The irony of this is that these caterpillars BLEW HERE FROM A CITY MORE THAN 50 MILES AWAY. All that windy weather? It brought the monstrous bugs back. Again.
I’m not thinking about it because maybe it won’t happen. Talk about positive thinking, I actually think I’m more afraid of the caterpillars than Trump. That’s serious fear.