BLACK & WHITE DOGS, SNOW, AND A HAZY MOON

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Open Topic


I haven’t been getting out lately, but fortunately, there always stuff going on inside. Dogs. Snow. Toys. I suppose these could just as easily be considered oddballs!

A hazy super-moon
Snow of the week through the window
Gibbs of the Long Nose
Sleepy Duke is growing up. Nice pair of jowls he’s got these days!

STUDIO STILLS – BLACK & WHITE SUNDAY

BLACK & WHITE SUNDAY: STILL LIFE – STUDIO SHOTS


Rubber ducks. Today, January 13th, was National Rubber Ducky Day, so I felt obliged to take some pictures of my rubber ducky collection. This is the Groucho Celebriduck with a background of the Loon Celebriduck.

Groucho and Loon Rubber Duckies
Yellow tinted candlelight

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ALL THOSE DUSTY CORNERS – CEE’S BLACK & WHITE CHALLENGE

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Corners


Standing in the corner wearing a tall pointy hat? Or was the tall pointy hat to prove you were a wizard? I have so much trouble remember these days.

Photo: Garry Armstrong – In the blizzard
A very squared-off room with plenty of corners that need dusting

One from Garry, three from me. There are a lot of corners in and out of the house!

Bonnie and Duke watching the falling snow
A square sign in the kitchen
Squared away picture window

 

BLACK & WHITE TOYS – CEE’S PHOTO CHALLENGE

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Toys for Children or Adults

Toys. What is a toy? Once you are past dolls, toy trucks, and blocks, what is a toy? The television? Kindle? Cell phone? I’m inclined to think that anything we don’t need for work, in or out of the house, is probably a toy.

Robby the Robot
Old dolls
My favorite toys
Flamingo!
Miniature steam engine
Dog toys — hey, they are almost kids, right?

ARCHES AND SEMI-CIRCULARITY

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Arches, Domes, Half Circles

Western fence — Photo: Garry Armstrong
The back door of the Massachusetts State House.

Reflections in Williamsburg, Virginia

THE WOODSTOVE – A BIT OF ECOLOGICAL FICTION

The woodstove had been in the family a long time. No one really knew how long, but a few of generations for sure. It had heated the family home for years.

Now the house had real central heating, so the woodstove had been relegated to a corner in the basement for a dozen years or more. It was unclear exactly when it was originally consigned to that odd dusty corner where unused but valued things end up.  The goodfers. Too good to throw away but maybe someday they’d have a new purpose.

For a while the family figured they’d put the stove in the parlor. Or maybe they’d get around to finishing the basement. It turned out the woodstove was too efficient to use like a fireplace. The amount of heat it pushed out its fat little belly was impressive. Log by log, it turned anything but a very large, open area into a sauna. It was much more efficient than oil heat and cheaper too, but oil heat was easy. No one had to split endless piles of logs, stack them in the woodshed, haul them into the house to feed the stove. It cost more money to heat with oil, but no one’s back got broken to keep the house warm.MaineCabinTXT

The woodshed still contained some wood. Enough to enjoy bright fires on cold evenings and keep the wood chopping skills of the men in the family up to snuff. But they didn’t need dozens of cords. It had taken a lot of wood to keep a family cozy through the long, bitter winter of northern Maine.

The year that Hank built the cabin, the woodstove found a new home and a purpose.

Hank built the cabin entirely by hand. It was to be a retreat, a place to get away from everything modern, from televisions and alarm clocks. Hank didn’t own the land, but the lumber company that owned it was willing to lease plots to families who wanted to build cabins by the lake. After the trees grew to maturity, the lumber companies would come and cut the trees, but it would be years before the trees were ready for harvesting.

The cabin was intended to be a warm weather retreat, just for the summer. It turned out to be so pleasant, despite it having no electricity or running water, family members and their friends liked going to it from early spring into the late autumn, sometimes even after the first snows had fallen.

The woodstove was ready and willing to keep the cabin toasty. It gave more than heat. The smell of the woodstove was friendly, familiar. The tang of smoke in the air reminded everyone how their houses used to smell of wood smoke. They recalled choosing wood for its scent. Apple, maple, sassafras, oak, even pine … each had special qualities.

It turned out you could cook on the stove too, though the technique of cooking on a woodstove was sufficiently different that each person who used it had to reinvent the process.

Over many years, many springs, summers and autumns spent by the lake, listening to the loons calling across the water, the woodstove came to symbolize a simple and peaceful life. It was the heart of a cabin deep in the woods, far from a paved road. Drinking water came directly from the lake, along with a goodly number of fresh water bass and trout, caught from the canoe and consumed with corn harvested from local farms, blueberries picked on nearby burns.

Even in cool weather, you could bathe in the lake, then warm your chilled body by the stove. It was where you hung your clothes to dry them after washing. The same place around which everyone gathered in the evening to tell stories. Once upon a special time, a quiet time, telling stories and laughing around a fire or an old woodstove was enough entertainment for any man or woman. Rowing on a crystal lake was fine. No one needed a speed boat. Friends were enough.

As the years rolled on, many people with cabins on the lake bought generators so they could have electricity. They installed washing machines. The lake water was no longer safe to drink. They brought televisions and at night, you couldn’t hear the calling loons. There were telephones, water pumps and plumbing.

It wasn’t the same and after a while, no one came to the little cabin. Hank passed away, the kids moved away. The cabin began to collapse.  Finally, it was gone, its contents including the woodstove, junk, rotting and rusting in the woods. It was as if it had never been.

It didn’t matter anyway, because enough years had passed. The trees were mature. The lumber companies came and clear-cut the woods. The rubble from the cutting washed into the lake and the fish died.  With the fish gone, the loons  didn’t have enough to eat and they flew off to nest on other lakes.

That world went away. Memories linger. I have pictures.

BLACK & WHITE HOUSES

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Houses