Day 62 – Buttons


The Button Tin

Memories of the cracker tin

My Mother kept her buttons in

Such treasures beautiful and bright

That brought my childish heart delight


I don’t know where the time has gone

My Mother’s race is nearly run

The buttons now seem so passe

Who’d want to use them anyway?


Red buttons, blue and green and white

Are seldom ever brought to light.

But I can still remember when

I loved my Mother’s button tin.


-Jeanne Hoadley

I borrowed my Mother’s button tin some time ago with the intent of photographing it’s contents. She never asked for it back so I thought I might just keep it since she doesn’t sew anymore. The weather finally drove me to find something inside to photograph so I finally opened the button tin and found the buttons not nearly as intriguing as I remembered them. But I went ahead and photographed them and then I spent quite a bit of time working it into an art piece. Then I went looking for a poem and could find nothing suitable. I couldn’t quite fit what I had to say into a Haiku so I had to write a full blown poem. Not that great I know and how gauche to actually rhyme the lines. But I like it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.


Day 61 – Mushrooms



Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot’s in the door.

-Sylvia Plath

One of the challenges of a project like this is finding something new and different to photograph. I found these mushrooms growing out of a stump yesterday on my photo walk. I was going to go out this afternoon until I realized it was too windy to get anything to hold still. So, I fell back on yesterday’s abundance. It is getting to be a real dance with the weather. I may have to grab a bouquet at the market tomorrow so I have something to shoot in the studio…though I suppose I could find something around here if I set my mind to it.  Hmmm….

Day 60 – Hay Rake

Hay Rake

Harvest Celebration

Completion of the harvest, is a time to celebrate,
Leaves on trees are yellowing, around the whole estate,
Barns and bins are full to bursting, for winter now is here,
In olden days it was the same, to grow still takes a year.
A lot more hand work then, more men worked upon the land,
Ploughed with horses and acre a day, seed was sown by hand,
Good rotation of all the crops, kept most weeds at bay,
At harvest stood sheaves up in stocks, for two church bells they must stay.
Into bays or ricks were built, threshed out as needed through the year,
Wheat went to the mill to be ground, flour for bread we do revere,
Oats to feed the cattle and horses, and some for porridge bound,
To feed the men and families who, work on the land all year round.
Mechanised now and fewer men, but crops still grow the same,
Sunshine and warmth in the spring, showers to grow good crops the aim,
In nature nothing really changes, seasons come and go,
To keep us on the land we all love, its food for everyone we grow.
-Diego Flammini
I spent the day at an event on an old farm. During my free time I went around photographing all the beautiful things, including some flowers still blooming. But it was this old hay rake that really captured by imagination, evoking how things were done in days gone by.  Which is also the subject of the poem which probably won’t win any prizes but which captured the same spirit of nostalgia I was going for.

Day 59 – White Rose


White Rose

White Rose

Blooming in November

Autumn Splendor

-Jeanne Hoadley

I’m taking a Haiku class at OLLI and we have been assigned to write one Haiku a day for the next week. So, I am afraid you are going to be subjected to my Haiku for a few days. I took the new lens out for a walk around the neighborhood and found a surprising number of flowers still blooming. But this white rose looked so elegant and played well with the velvety lens though I was plagued by too much wind (hence the ghosting around the edge of the flower.) I look forward to finding time to get back to the rose garden with my new toy.

Day 58 – Raindrops


There will come soft Rain

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

-Sara Teasdale

I have a new toy. For those in the know it is a Lensbaby Velvet 85 lens which is designed to give a rapid fall off in depth of field and a velvety feel to the out of focus areas. I could not wait to get outside to try it out this morning so I had to squeeze it in between rain showers. I have to say, I am very happy with my purchase so far. As for the poem, it is not really about Autumn but I really liked it anyway.

Day 57 – Utensils


My Wooden Spoon

When your soup comes to a boil
and starts frothing,
You should place a wooden spoon
atop the pot
to keep the contents
from spilling over.

Alas, i must leave you here,
as i’m going to the kitchen
to clean the stove.


Yep, I was getting desperate for something to photograph and for a poem to go with it. It wasn’t fit for woman or beast outside today so I decided to find something in the house to photograph. This jar of wooden spoons caught my eye but by the time I got around to photographing it I wasn’t really in the mood. But with a little help from my creative software I came up with something. The poem on the other had didn’t do too much for me until I thought it through and then it made me laugh so it got the nod even if the author apparently didn’t want to claim it.


Day 56 – Frosty Leaf



I wake at sunrise
And watch the world around me wake as well
The frosted tree tops remind me of the cold winter to come
The colorful leaves half fallen into the front yard
Reminding me to take in Autumn while I can
Because soon the snow that is falling will stick
Soon the remaining leaves in the trees will fall too
The cloudy skies with a bright pink background remind me that soon there will be no sun detected as the grey clouds will cover my little town for 4 months
The pesty mosquitos from humid summer nights have all died out
Beaches are closed for the winter
And those damn frosty tree tops reminding me of a long cold winter to come
In the beginning the new change will be blissful
But like everything else after time
It gets old

-Madeline Rose

We had our first good hard frost this morning. With another storm moving in tonight temperatures are forecast to stay above freezing for awhile but as Ms. Rose alludes, it is a harbinger of things to come. After looking at the pictures I got this morning with the mirrorless I can see that I need to get out the big girl camera with macro lens and tripod to capture the delicate patterns of the frost on the edges of the leaves. I’m sure the opportunity will arise in the next 44 days.

Day 55 – Tree Abstract


The Presence of Trees

I have always felt the living presence
of trees

the forest that calls to me as deeply
as I breathe,

as though the woods were marrow of my bone
as though

I myself were tree, a breathing, reaching
arc of the larger canopy

beside a brook bubbling to foam
like the one

deep in these woods,
that calls

that whispers home

-Michael S. Glaser

Not feeling quite up to par today so I decided to create art from the files. This started as an intentional blur shot in Lithia Park where there is a grove of trees all planted in neat rows. I layered on some textures to give it a little more interest and depth.

Day 54 – Rainbow


“Rainbows: The gift from heaven to us all.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

Well I did feel like I’d been given a gift when I looked out my office window on what promised to be a dreary gray day with not much to recommend it photographically. So, I grabbed the camera and ran outside getting just a couple of shots before it faded away. I can also tell you that there are many many bad poems about rainbows on the internet and no good ones that I could find.

Day 53 – Calico Corn



-Ronald Johnson

Flint corn, Calico corn, decorative corn, fall corn, there are lots of politically correct names for what we used to call Indian Corn. This poem was published in 1963 so let’s just give him a break. I wonder if the reason the only version I could find was an image from its original publication has anything to do with the title or the subject? Or maybe it is just too old and its author too obscure. In my experience European Americans are more offended by the word Indian than Native Americans. In New Mexico where I lived for eight years the aboriginals seemed to embrace the word Indian as an important part of their identity. Call it what you will, this corn is still beautiful and symbolic of fall in North America.