tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77728269642653378862024-03-05T04:00:45.247-08:00Drifting Down Moon RiverWherever you're going, I'm going your way .....Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-23051741714268400822014-07-06T08:05:00.001-07:002014-07-06T10:02:45.628-07:00Mississippi River Floods ~ July, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-68410892946740943572014-07-06T07:52:00.002-07:002014-07-06T10:02:31.450-07:00Mysterious Moon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: small;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></span><br />
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<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-69864131652654266642014-04-08T05:52:00.000-07:002014-07-06T08:06:35.754-07:00Inside Your Hope<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“The very least you can do in your
life is figure out what you hope for. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the most you can do is live inside
that hope. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">~ Barbara Kingsolver (born April 8, 1955)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span><br />
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Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-20018590902721300682014-04-07T09:14:00.003-07:002014-04-07T09:18:13.786-07:00Still Looking Up<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span id="goog_373876473"></span><span id="goog_373876474"></span><br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-91790295021412005742014-04-07T09:09:00.000-07:002014-04-08T05:58:51.118-07:00Bring Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's not what the world holds for you. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's what you bring to it." </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~ Lucy Maud Montgomery</span></div>
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<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-18765209203634188982013-06-04T17:19:00.000-07:002014-04-07T09:24:21.078-07:00Come Love Me Again<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">t was Saturday, and so
there was a wedding in the garden. But this one was a little different. As I
walked out the atrium doors and entered the garden, I met a middle-aged man,
with salt-and-pepper hair, whom I now believe to have been the groom. What tipped me off? He was dressed in a formal suit and was wearing a flower in his
lapel. It seemed a dead giveaway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">As I walked past him, I
asked what time the wedding would be. My<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>goal was to get in and out of the wedding garden before it started. Not
knowing this, he looked at me doubtfully, as if to say, "Who the heck are you?" </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Ten
o’clock,” he replied out loud, clearly puzzled as to why I wanted to know this. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Ah,” I said, lifting my
camera to reassure him as why I was in the garden. “Then I have lots of time.” Finally realizing that I was not paparazzi, he smiled, and I went on my way.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBtk7vQXdGn84AlWjfA1kkrFi-SWszECBLZHaY4Ruh3h_lwZN6HHxZm4Xp7yHSN83JHuq-d3SaMQYBJQNIBGcun-RLPXFtEf7k8aeVoeY7fDqX6FbgS3vKIgyEUlH1OKaDDO2Mj9_ZO8/s1600/DSC_0092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBtk7vQXdGn84AlWjfA1kkrFi-SWszECBLZHaY4Ruh3h_lwZN6HHxZm4Xp7yHSN83JHuq-d3SaMQYBJQNIBGcun-RLPXFtEf7k8aeVoeY7fDqX6FbgS3vKIgyEUlH1OKaDDO2Mj9_ZO8/s640/DSC_0092.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Allium "Star of Persia." By Divine Ms. Moon.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">After a few preliminary
stops among the allium and the dogwoods, I moved into the wedding garden, where
I began circling the outer perimeter to photograph the peonies. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Peony. By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">After a few minutes, the
wedding party began to assemble. The man with the salt-and-pepper hair seemed
to play a major role in getting things organized. A musician arrived soon afterwards. He was another middle-aged, but balding
man, in a blue shirt and khakis, wielding an electric guitar and a rather
powerful speaker system. After speaking for a few moments with the man I had originally encountered, he began to warm up.
His first selection was John Denver's "Annie’s Song." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">"You fill up my senses</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Like a night in the forest,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Like the mountains in spring time,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;">Like a walk in the rain ...."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;">While I certainly admired
the choice for a garden wedding, the music also clearly pegged the newlyweds as being
somewhere within my own generation. </span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">Sentimental tears began to overflow. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">I sat alone under an arbor at the edge of the wedding garden and just listened, a little embarrassed to be an intruder into someone else's happiness. I made my escape just as guests began to arrive. As I walked away, I heard that song again --</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #29303e;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">"Come let me love you,</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">Let me give my life to you,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">Let me drown in your laughter</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">Let me die in your arms ...."</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #29303e;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;">
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Sometime later, the wedding party
began to disperse into small groups that wandered around the garden. Standing in
front of a rugosa rose bush, I thought how appropriate that the most hardy
of roses should bloom for this wedding. </span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #29303e;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><br /></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #29303e; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2n5zhEFs_UPu3hDtlTTJJOYy9nc1vn_03cfxlFrfj8aV-vsnz118LJQT-m_4n5jhEM253jcIvA7KGR41AThF6VhDQkFJk71EReFhHIFpJTYOoaKe03X7YKIm-nvd4dW4xY1DxFfCVZok/s1600/DSC_0311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2n5zhEFs_UPu3hDtlTTJJOYy9nc1vn_03cfxlFrfj8aV-vsnz118LJQT-m_4n5jhEM253jcIvA7KGR41AThF6VhDQkFJk71EReFhHIFpJTYOoaKe03X7YKIm-nvd4dW4xY1DxFfCVZok/s640/DSC_0311.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Rugosa rose. By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">And I knew that, in the wedding garden, there were peonies, petunias, pansies, stocks,
and many other flowers to fill the senses with color and fragrance. F</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">or a brief moment, I
closed my eyes and imagined that it had been my wedding. It was simple, but it
was perfect.</span></span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I could almost feel their joy.</span></span></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">"Let me lay down beside you</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Let me always be with you,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Come let me love you</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Come love me again ...." </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/C21G2OkHEYo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #29303e; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">John Denver, "Annie's Song"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBAHrMGDqjdBGWEMUVuRpwomIiF8YUrz8_RtushRt-fmp_YhpWL49udA6k8g5y_w_iaK9YqhwLIa_BBprbwmzaUwyfATAqtbBVC2A6aOqALFjZBl9Xsx_hhQJJ1bwBDh4A5Dun_OcCbQ/s1600/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBAHrMGDqjdBGWEMUVuRpwomIiF8YUrz8_RtushRt-fmp_YhpWL49udA6k8g5y_w_iaK9YqhwLIa_BBprbwmzaUwyfATAqtbBVC2A6aOqALFjZBl9Xsx_hhQJJ1bwBDh4A5Dun_OcCbQ/s1600/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 17px;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303e; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;">
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px;"><!--EndFragment--></span></span><br />
<!--EndFragment--></div>
</div>
</div>
Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-17183876073934498722012-11-13T05:29:00.002-08:002014-04-07T09:27:11.856-07:00A Friend<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"A friend is a present you give yourself."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">~ Robert Louis Stevenson (born November 13, 1850)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqy40jFAJ8oR-WozVSbzWnF9bWRJ2hNngfyver632kXWA5bU8DVMpHsQkjVrBQCuBmC5Btpe9-c4CJXCbpTxTTibJnam9NC3dwBUck1wHmTqlDgLOsrs8NgVHv36Qz6ImfftfeVvyZZ9c/s1600/DSC_0979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqy40jFAJ8oR-WozVSbzWnF9bWRJ2hNngfyver632kXWA5bU8DVMpHsQkjVrBQCuBmC5Btpe9-c4CJXCbpTxTTibJnam9NC3dwBUck1wHmTqlDgLOsrs8NgVHv36Qz6ImfftfeVvyZZ9c/s640/DSC_0979.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-21320865679920454772012-09-23T21:34:00.001-07:002014-04-07T10:10:57.647-07:00Blue Gardens<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvBjVPLcucTrg0IqGmyfJYPi8AR3J5bxxfQbozC4g49kOpfpSmWt8kUsTasjJvCtWoKWNitU-pB5gjQnMahZREwaB0xjB-ujr_GWn0f7WrRuqBt_y1V-v3ypqNdt0lRcngZtsH1N2BmY/s1600/DSC_0701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvBjVPLcucTrg0IqGmyfJYPi8AR3J5bxxfQbozC4g49kOpfpSmWt8kUsTasjJvCtWoKWNitU-pB5gjQnMahZREwaB0xjB-ujr_GWn0f7WrRuqBt_y1V-v3ypqNdt0lRcngZtsH1N2BmY/s640/DSC_0701.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.” </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">~ F. Scott Fitzgerald (born September 24, 1896)</span></span><br />
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<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-52138012052652215702012-09-23T12:23:00.000-07:002014-04-08T06:04:49.578-07:00Unexpected Roses<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">I didn’t go looking for roses today. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">We had a hard frost in the area last night, and it seemed unlikely that I would find any. So I never went near the rose garden. Instead, I decided to concentrate on photographing the interplay of September light on trees and foliage. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">It was so cold this morning that I expected there to be no one else in the garden. So, when I pulled into the parking lot, I was surprised to find that there was already quite a bit of activity. I snapped a few shots outside, disappointed that the beautiful trumpet flowers I had photographed last week had already been cleared out, and then went into the atrium to make my way out to the main gardens. I knew immediately that something was up. Staff and volunteers were bustling around, and two people were setting up a long L-shaped table to sell something. Uh, oh. I said in my mind. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">As I walked on, I encountered a staff member who recognizes me whenever I come. She smiled and said cheerfully, “Planning to take photos of the quilts today?” Aha. The annual fall quilt show. “<i>And</i>,” she continued enthusiastically, “We’re having a Thai festival.” This time, I said “oh” out loud. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Well, I said to myself, somewhat relieved, that means that it will still be quiet outside. So, after chatting with this lady for another few moments, out the double-doors to the gardens I went.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">And, for the most part, quiet it was. Bright and crisp and quiet. But it was still very cold, especially in the shade. After forty-five minutes, a hundred photos or so, and a moderate chill, I suddenly had an irresistible urge to see the quilts. So, I went back inside, paid the admission donation, and went down the long runway into the old atrium where about 60 intricate and gayly-hued quilts were on full display, surrounded by flowers. This is, after all, a botanical garden. I didn’t photograph them all, by any means, only those that seemed unusually intricate, unusually beautiful, or just plain unusual. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">As I did so, I was following the guide and jotting notes of which quilts I had photographed for later use in attributions. I stopped for a few minutes in front of the quilt pictured below, contemplating. In the background, I could hear a group of Thai worshippers chanting in an adjoining room, lulling me into quiet serenity. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">The guide said the name of the quilt was “Grand Central.” Huh? When did they build Grand Central Orientale? I shook my head and began taking photos. The quilt had a dramatic black border not visible here. To me, in overall effect, it was by far the most beautiful quilt in the show. So I wanted to make sure I captured it. In the end, I don’t think I really did.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvGTjTtsLOxEONU5nkAVBhUCbxfrABiT08TLT6_MFO699DTERIVUME1lLRq5Pvyap8BDVtJcRYRsGZ6GcAj9wWU5YvrtcRwc-U8qbaVNbBtWT-IVii7h5a0SS7xG3HeFWy4EBUCHhyphenhyphen7Y/s1600/DSC_0829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvGTjTtsLOxEONU5nkAVBhUCbxfrABiT08TLT6_MFO699DTERIVUME1lLRq5Pvyap8BDVtJcRYRsGZ6GcAj9wWU5YvrtcRwc-U8qbaVNbBtWT-IVii7h5a0SS7xG3HeFWy4EBUCHhyphenhyphen7Y/s640/DSC_0829.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Detail from "Grand Central" by Joanne Cripps<br />(Quilting by Cindy Haas)<br />Photographed by Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">Anyway, as I was standing there, three people came up behind me and stood quietly discussing the quilts in this group. They seemed fairly knowledgeable about quilts, so I turned my head back and asked, “Can you think why on earth this quilt might have been called “Grand Central”? The three people looked at each other, seemingly puzzled. Then one of them, a small elderly lady with a lovely smile, said in total deadpan, “’Grand Central’ is the name of the pattern." “Oh,” I said, brightly. “Now it makes sense. For the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. It seems a rather undistinguished name for such a beautiful quilt. I mean, all those peonies and wild roses. I wonder what she was thinking.” I turned back to what I was doing, still somewhat perplexed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">The same lady said quietly to the back of my head, “Well, why don’t YOU name it?” Immediately, alarm bells began going off. I stopped still in the middle of framing a shot. Without turning around, I said, “You made it, didn’t you?” “Yes,” she replied. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Needless to say, I turned almost as red as the peonies in the quilt. But when I turned around again, she was still smiling, and she proved to be extremely gracious, as were her companions. We continued to talk casually as we walked around the show. She taught me a few things about quilting and something about grace. When I commented that other people were likely to wonder why she had named the quilt as she had, and joked that I was just lucky enough to have said it out loud in front of her, she replied, “That’s quite all right. There were many worse things that you could have said.” </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Not likely. Despite my inability to capture its full essence, “Grand Central” was the most beautiful quilt in the show, and its maker was even more beautiful. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I didn’t go looking for roses in the garden today, but I found them.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRKJTNaV4vkyU5z4bklZGEy-5etNSbMBH6GG00SNGd8TFUwyQhTcSI51i2l-kDlBdiK4InvC6Vy3tgIZCybUdTA2yduU4iZ70U6aynUwtCztYgbG2deLKt8_zahdaoPy3hGVvhUTlWu8/s1600/DSC_0849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRKJTNaV4vkyU5z4bklZGEy-5etNSbMBH6GG00SNGd8TFUwyQhTcSI51i2l-kDlBdiK4InvC6Vy3tgIZCybUdTA2yduU4iZ70U6aynUwtCztYgbG2deLKt8_zahdaoPy3hGVvhUTlWu8/s400/DSC_0849.jpg" height="350" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Detail from "Grand Central" by Joanne Cripps<br />Photographed by Divine Ms. Moon</span><br />
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Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-42647166439376420312012-08-11T13:34:00.003-07:002014-04-07T10:09:46.426-07:00Garden Adventures ~ What I Thought I Knew<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBs23J_C5o6YNy0laZPxe9fA03wNYYGyXJCzDLSNjaz0KVxSWgw1soMzaiCeh3srHKgoIAK-jAcQ_C1v90-XQDyNEHW9PR5cQzA4gVIpqVLgiqUYbaL5oHld9VZQXZITa4JXCXUOvYQUg/s1600/DSC_0157+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBs23J_C5o6YNy0laZPxe9fA03wNYYGyXJCzDLSNjaz0KVxSWgw1soMzaiCeh3srHKgoIAK-jAcQ_C1v90-XQDyNEHW9PR5cQzA4gVIpqVLgiqUYbaL5oHld9VZQXZITa4JXCXUOvYQUg/s640/DSC_0157+2.jpg" height="640" width="406" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was sitting on a bench in the shade in the botanical
garden today when a busload of tourists arrived. "Oh, lordy," I said,
much to the amusement of the man who was walking through the shade garden at
the time. "If you move quickly," he said encouragingly, a sly look in his eyes, "maybe you can beat
them." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And maybe not. They caught up to me right outside the
kitchen garden. To be fair, they cheated and went both ways around the old
house. I tried to concentrate on the hosta flowers ahead of me and braced
myself for the onslaught of ooh-ing and ah-ing. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Ooh," said one of two women who approached where
I was standing, "those are tall." "They certainly are," I
replied genially, although inside I was flinching, "I have never seen
hosta flowers tall enough to look in the eye." "Oh," responded
the second woman, "those are just Krossa Regal. I have a ton of them in my
garden, but I hate those flowers, so I cut them all off." "The other
woman said, "Krossa Regal, yes, that's right." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As turned to watch them continue their way down the path, I began to
wonder just who these tourists might be. After a while, I met another group,
ooh-ing and ahh-ing over a mass of short blue flowers along the path in the
wedding garden. "Periwinkle," one said. "Nope," said
another, confidently. "Geranium -- probably Himalyan." Oh, really, I
said, quietly to myself, and a bit skeptically. But on the other side of the garden, I found the marker
near another mass of the same flower. "Geranium himalayense," it
read. I realized then, I was in the presence of some not-so-ordinary, elderly
garden tourists. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I paused for a while on the bench overlooking the knot
garden to review the photos I had already taken. When I looked up, I noticed an
obvious shot in front of me that I had, nevertheless, never seen before. The focus was tricky,
so I had to fiddle with it for a while, and when I had finally gotten what I
thought I wanted, I picked up again and walked toward the pergola overlooking
the lily pond, where two of the tourists were now sitting, eating their lunch.
They invited me to sit and continued to eat. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked where they were from. They named a city about 80
miles from here. "Ah. Garden club?" I asked cautiously. "Well,
yes," said one of the women quietly, "Master gardener club." And
then I knew exactly why they weren't behaving like the ordinary, casual garden
visitor. I was impressed and appropriately humbled.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Getting any interesting shots?" asked the other
woman after we had talked for a while about the house and the garden and what
gardens there were to see in their city. "Actually, yes," I said,
pointing vaguely back toward the place from which I had just come. "I
found that if you sit on that bench and look down toward the knot garden
through the fence, you can get a pretty interesting shot." "May we
see?" one of the ladies asked. "Of course," I replied, and
turned on my viewfinder, dialing to the photo above. They both looked at if for
a moment, and then both glanced around the garden, seemingly puzzled. After another moment, one of the women said, "That's beautiful, but where did you find
the stained glass?" </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Exactly, I said to myself. And I was so relieved to learn
that I knew at least one thing that those master gardeners didn't. I hope to be
one of those myself, someday, and then I will know for sure what now I just think I know.</span><br />
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<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-79503276368186896262012-08-05T14:13:00.003-07:002014-07-06T10:05:43.367-07:00Joy in the Garden<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">One of my favorite garden plants is the stargazer lily, a spectacular variety of the oriental lily. Not only are they beautiful, but they remind many people of weddings, and thus, they produce joyful, romantic associations. I have one colleague, however, who hates the scent of stargazers, claiming they remind him of funerals. I tend to ignore him, as he also thinks global warming is a good thing because it improves his golf game.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42ZCx1wP0TpNB1KMYBfGh2aeEJpJeCo3iwKNB8B1_3gIzhz67SvKU6DYt15mn_iyY0CcMmIJW5F13X7nDmnKXybBu98DT-p7O7G7yaSOOXdpJfxO7diIjOX16prnShPGwCJrndWksRAI/s1600/DSC_1124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42ZCx1wP0TpNB1KMYBfGh2aeEJpJeCo3iwKNB8B1_3gIzhz67SvKU6DYt15mn_iyY0CcMmIJW5F13X7nDmnKXybBu98DT-p7O7G7yaSOOXdpJfxO7diIjOX16prnShPGwCJrndWksRAI/s640/DSC_1124.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-size: small;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">In other times, I had stargazers in my own garden, along with many other lilies of oriental, Asiatic, and daylily persuasions. This is what the stargazers looked like in my local botanical garden this morning. No matter what my colleague says, my associations with stargazer lilies will always be joyful. </span><br />
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Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-18858694276608781212012-08-05T11:59:00.001-07:002012-08-05T12:08:31.148-07:00Coming To Be<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">I met another photographer in the garden today, and we compared stories. She is a stay-home mom who picked up a camera one day and found that it fulfills something within her that needed filling. I have a similar story about something that needed filling, but we don't need to canvass it here. When this lady asked me what kind of photos I like to take, I struggled to explain how I am interested in impressionist, or watercolor, photography. She looked at me curiously, obviously not grasping what I was saying. She is interested in portraits of children. I can understand why she did not seem to relate to what I was saying. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">We parted company and I went back to taking pictures. I called back to her that she really would be interested in the stargazer lilies, which were putting on quite a show in the wedding garden. She responded politely, but she never did come back that way. I believe she was chasing butterflies, and I hope she had great success. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">A short time later, I was sitting on a bench, contemplating an arched doorway a few feet away. A single branch of a climbing rose was trailing down into the open arch, drifting gently back and forth with the soft, cool breeze. It knew it was calling me, but several shots later, foiled by a very fickle sun, I still had taken not a single shot with which I was satisfied. And so, a little frustrated, I stood up, composed myself to go on my way, and walked ahead, under the branch, and through the arch toward the formal rose garden beyond.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><br />The reason we're here right now is that I have tried to train myself to always stop and look back because, sometimes, the best shots are the last shots. And so it was today. The light looking back was perfect. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBdtg-lLaLU89MWhcIGJQ70bdbcdsVGFE8qp3Xl7e3_9njQc9CCN2U1iJ3yaECRvt6VzjE0MR-mpyPe-1E6uvaCFJYO_ai7d4XX7SqkRTWQFtECMONsYZL1v6dyeCAC08IR-9nGW4vhs/s1600/DSC_1268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBdtg-lLaLU89MWhcIGJQ70bdbcdsVGFE8qp3Xl7e3_9njQc9CCN2U1iJ3yaECRvt6VzjE0MR-mpyPe-1E6uvaCFJYO_ai7d4XX7SqkRTWQFtECMONsYZL1v6dyeCAC08IR-9nGW4vhs/s640/DSC_1268.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">I stood there for a while after I finished taking photos in that spot, wishing the lady I met could have been there in that moment, so I could have shown her the photographer that I am coming to be.</span><br />
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I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"> think she would have understood.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-66525571737337507372012-07-18T16:05:00.002-07:002012-09-18T20:44:10.348-07:00Along the Way I've Learned<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8uThyHdyZYBlqv11a4OsL2Rm-4-ZK_VEbjNVzPR2myi-6LaKIGXhTfdzb9_Z10egv3gv3n7xF27hbOCrMVXtdtZp4GSP272uKQbXMk5eRU4DOBcwcMubn9_Drrd0nAZBXOAyYkChpWzM/s1600/CIMG9029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8uThyHdyZYBlqv11a4OsL2Rm-4-ZK_VEbjNVzPR2myi-6LaKIGXhTfdzb9_Z10egv3gv3n7xF27hbOCrMVXtdtZp4GSP272uKQbXMk5eRU4DOBcwcMubn9_Drrd0nAZBXOAyYkChpWzM/s640/CIMG9029.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px;">Clouds are not the cheeks of angels, you know</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px;">They’re only clouds.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px;">Friendly sometimes, but you can never be sure.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px;">If I had longer arms I’d push the clouds away</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px;">or I’d make them hang above the water</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">somewhere else,</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I’m just a man who needs and wants,<br />mostly things he’ll never have.<br />Looking for that thing thats hardest to find:<br />himself.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve been going a long time now<br />along the way I’ve learned some things.<br />You have to make the good times yourself,<br />take the little times and make them big times,<br />and save the times that are all right<br />for the ones that aren’t so good.<br />I’ve never been able to push<br />the clouds away by myself.<br />Help me.<br />Please?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ~ Rod McKuen</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkj40B_CeCVMVF9dZddkzZnf1oO-lMo0lCATI1rW4NQ956dTXGSxpaA_6GlQRUTGQjjo_aJdBU_E1osOkFropgajt7_Z8GImo5HwtXNzqHVxeVvd5ZOUI1VwmIlF0zMIxQgt-cWmpd8M/s1600/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkj40B_CeCVMVF9dZddkzZnf1oO-lMo0lCATI1rW4NQ956dTXGSxpaA_6GlQRUTGQjjo_aJdBU_E1osOkFropgajt7_Z8GImo5HwtXNzqHVxeVvd5ZOUI1VwmIlF0zMIxQgt-cWmpd8M/s200/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-74304973628119565742012-07-08T16:46:00.002-07:002012-07-08T17:51:04.860-07:00Life Imitating Art<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"To create one's own world takes courage."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~ Georgia O'Keeffe</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_AKpPxfyiYmY7yG2eebLbsjdEhcPzrGvoAebsZxofGo9AhCM7EgTMzb-l2fvIBnXmBj_496MpI5zSYFUv3UUzCoRRF7gMGOia5qiVc3MX6T7XPUu9pL7f7eJOWhuu8aSegqDuODrml4/s1600/DSC_0443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_AKpPxfyiYmY7yG2eebLbsjdEhcPzrGvoAebsZxofGo9AhCM7EgTMzb-l2fvIBnXmBj_496MpI5zSYFUv3UUzCoRRF7gMGOia5qiVc3MX6T7XPUu9pL7f7eJOWhuu8aSegqDuODrml4/s640/DSC_0443.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">A couple of posts down, I posted a trumpet flower painted by Georgia O'Keeffe. This is my photographic interpretation of her flower. Slowly, but surely, I am creating my own photography style. The risk of sharing that style with the world is what takes courage. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br />As O'Keeffe observed, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm frightened all the time. But I never let it stop me. Never!"</span></span><br />
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</div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-28108947083962419512012-07-07T19:14:00.001-07:002012-07-26T06:07:41.350-07:00Photographing Light<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Give light and the darkness</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">will disappear of itself.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">~ Desiderius Erasmus</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Whenever I visit the Twin Cities, I always try to stay at
the same hotel. It’s not the best hotel in the world, or even in the Twin
Cities, but it has easy access on and off the Interstate, and I can park my car
for however long I am there. My daughter is more than happy to chauffeur us,
and I am more than happy to let her. Notwithstanding that I cut my driving
chops in the large urban area where I grew up, the freeway maze that is the Twin
Cities completely baffles me. But the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">principal reason I love to stay at this particular hotel
is not parking, nor is it the restaurant, which is awful. And it’s not the rooms, which are
adequate, but nothing special. On hockey-game nights, private security guards patrol
the hallways. In short, it’s not the Ritz. I’ve stayed at a Ritz Carlton, and
believe me, I can tell the difference. No, what I really love about this hotel
is the view.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">But, you ask, how can this be, if it’s right on the
Interstate? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Well, this is how –</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv49IH4SCpOuMkW8Qe_JfVGoLMD0IVo0KM5dPYqYJdftsH38-VzOYhyphenhyphenn4cm6-X9PlLmBOzKnZJCODlyR1UW0ajsU5BX9wx2lsJxzEN6jmO-aVIM00aboQ2s3_9hfwC2rR_DqhIbDJiR-4/s1600/IMG_0817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv49IH4SCpOuMkW8Qe_JfVGoLMD0IVo0KM5dPYqYJdftsH38-VzOYhyphenhyphenn4cm6-X9PlLmBOzKnZJCODlyR1UW0ajsU5BX9wx2lsJxzEN6jmO-aVIM00aboQ2s3_9hfwC2rR_DqhIbDJiR-4/s640/IMG_0817.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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From the front of the hotel, the view is full on to the
South – and right smack in the middle of the view, across about 10 lanes of freeway,
is the exquisite Cathedral of St. Paul, the signature landmark of the City of
St. Paul. There is an urban myth -- not true -- that F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda Sayre were
married in this church many years ago. In other words, there’s history here. </div>
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Although I am not at all religious, church architecture
fascinates me. The Cathedral of St. Paul, being of somewhat indeterminate style, has everything -- domes, and
cupolas, bell towers, “rose” windows, and all the dental molding that anyone
could wish for. I love to photograph the Cathedral in varying light conditions.
In this way, I am trying to imitate what Claude Monet did with his “series”
paintings in the 1890s. The photo above is perhaps my favorite. It was taken at
sunrise from my seventh floor hotel room window. I managed to capture the
warmth of the morning light without getting any glare or reflection from the
glass. In short, I got lucky.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRDDyRuAmLWezFxdNoZyg3GrkL1__ubmLuCB-VrHnQU-uOfffPd7aMdtT9AminrEoUlY12LzDnK_ef08ZRDHNz-pcSKcgHF2-OLIQJL1lO-4drzAmyW5vivFSAYFNdX8pkRlZ1ED7kwg/s1600/IMG_0765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRDDyRuAmLWezFxdNoZyg3GrkL1__ubmLuCB-VrHnQU-uOfffPd7aMdtT9AminrEoUlY12LzDnK_ef08ZRDHNz-pcSKcgHF2-OLIQJL1lO-4drzAmyW5vivFSAYFNdX8pkRlZ1ED7kwg/s640/IMG_0765.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The above photo was taken from pretty much the same spot
in my hotel room, but at night. It’s not the perfect photo, as it suffers from
a bit of low-light wobble, but I really liked the illusion that the Cathedral is floating
in a luminous pool. </div>
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On other evenings, my daughter and I have explored the Cathedral
from different angles. The photo below was taken this spring, at dusk, from a
street that runs behind the Cathedral. The sapphire evening glow was pretty
much as seen here. But to me, the most interesting thing about this
photo is the cross at the top of the cupola, which appears to be in front of
the branch of the tree. But that was not so -- rather, I was standing hundreds of feet
away from the Cathedral, and that tree was planted into the sidewalk, just a few feet to my right. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxygdkFTjRgK6INLZ94gD2xt5pFVbVwwwDJ6x0miYhBBMfUsSbT3njNQsaeo9IAXz6Xt6gkR8gbEuknj5E52jYpVlcTvD0_Sm_juDOrulw327yKmaP1y8ANVeLfYopSJteB31PkWoRSZ8/s1600/IMG_0972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxygdkFTjRgK6INLZ94gD2xt5pFVbVwwwDJ6x0miYhBBMfUsSbT3njNQsaeo9IAXz6Xt6gkR8gbEuknj5E52jYpVlcTvD0_Sm_juDOrulw327yKmaP1y8ANVeLfYopSJteB31PkWoRSZ8/s640/IMG_0972.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have no ready explanation for this phenomenon, except that it reminds me a little of how clouds sometimes appear to disappear behind the Moon.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Musical Interlude</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Norah Jones, "The Nearness of You"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/8We0SwZHd9A?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">The next photo was taken the same evening as the one above, but
a little later, and much closer, looking up. I’m not very religious, but I was
awestruck by how the camera interpreted that tower light as gleaming out like a
beacon. That’s not exactly how it appeared to the eye. I remember wondering
whether the Cathedral’s architect ever saw the light in this particular way. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBIv9ahrp6jfqWy3j3bBkkXJpBDQ4mTJWmtlLb8G9GGoJxyJCvERgVD2aD7z0mD4JsX-OZVf1D4Td2bsXa1hr25im3LqmpwMOBw0870u9I9F7doybOfUYhY85zlinSWosek4qH6v2zx0/s1600/IMG_0989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBIv9ahrp6jfqWy3j3bBkkXJpBDQ4mTJWmtlLb8G9GGoJxyJCvERgVD2aD7z0mD4JsX-OZVf1D4Td2bsXa1hr25im3LqmpwMOBw0870u9I9F7doybOfUYhY85zlinSWosek4qH6v2zx0/s640/IMG_0989.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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Below<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"> is one last look at the Cathedral, captured in the pale,
cold light of a late fall morning, Other than light, what distinguishes this
photograph from the two photographs at the beginning of this post? Simply
stated, the streetlight that appears in this photo, which was taken from ground
level, vanishes like magic when the Cathedral is photographed from the seventh
floor. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkz0Lu5BQXCucTD97R0GaftiQcocmHIbM4g_625dqoBiwYOHa7iggNR_D59pMS6fBW2F19LNahZ6BVWPRXIyFKrnVlbOG_UY7KrBktGfxoI2yxl8UQEALE-7sehdW261aAmDIbf0aIhg/s1600/CIMG7470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkz0Lu5BQXCucTD97R0GaftiQcocmHIbM4g_625dqoBiwYOHa7iggNR_D59pMS6fBW2F19LNahZ6BVWPRXIyFKrnVlbOG_UY7KrBktGfxoI2yxl8UQEALE-7sehdW261aAmDIbf0aIhg/s640/CIMG7470.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, finally, just as every Cracker Jack box has a surprise inside, this
post also has a surprise inside. The photo below shows the view from the other
side of my hotel, taken from the parking lot one evening after my daughter and
I returned from dinner. What is that big building that dominates this photo?
It’s the Minnesota Capitol building, which has been undergoing renovations for
the past several years, explaining the scaffolding.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwsOEXc61XlYAEbNlCInTu-0c7lfqVLhJLRWItNpmP0plTDGfSE7yEGOS7182Zv7c-FGzA1DSMm5o4iWB0mWHAgJl-b6CWFnt-VhRMMe-bR-MTqmeQVVt1ykMjozS-8deZe-RKZG3cHI/s1600/IMG_1022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwsOEXc61XlYAEbNlCInTu-0c7lfqVLhJLRWItNpmP0plTDGfSE7yEGOS7182Zv7c-FGzA1DSMm5o4iWB0mWHAgJl-b6CWFnt-VhRMMe-bR-MTqmeQVVt1ykMjozS-8deZe-RKZG3cHI/s640/IMG_1022.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Divine Ms. Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Pretty impressive, huh? And this is only the second-best view. I hope you can see why I
really love to stay at this hotel, and always will, although it’s absolutely not the Ritz. </span></div>
</div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-57788674904853626992012-07-05T12:57:00.000-07:002012-07-05T13:04:18.975-07:00My World for a Moment<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRF8TQbbsHHSYbc2_NNSIS_1Zbm73hW-KfiaZ4BIDcfbu4doO6E52uxRBYAUW8SBlY2yW3s1bh4lsavGieWHf3L4oBjW28Lf0tMl4_4hsiux6mLx2n7Y3jMqGnVIBGwsqrXzQOASu6Oyg/s1600/466321377_d97e6c3d9c_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRF8TQbbsHHSYbc2_NNSIS_1Zbm73hW-KfiaZ4BIDcfbu4doO6E52uxRBYAUW8SBlY2yW3s1bh4lsavGieWHf3L4oBjW28Lf0tMl4_4hsiux6mLx2n7Y3jMqGnVIBGwsqrXzQOASu6Oyg/s640/466321377_d97e6c3d9c_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Georgia O'Keeffe<br />White Trumpet Flower (1932)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;">"When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;">to someone else. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;">Most people in the city rush around so, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;">they have no time to look at a flower. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;">I want them to see it </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;">whether they want to or not."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;">~ Georgia O'Keeffe</span></span></span></span></div>
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</span></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-42374214416136857912012-07-05T09:56:00.002-07:002012-07-05T12:25:50.239-07:00Urban Adventures ~ A Mother/Daughter Moment<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Wait,” I said to my daughter, as we
were driving along the Cedar Avenue Bridge over I-94 on a chilly Sunday morning in late October. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“There
has to be <i>some</i> way to get that skyline shot.” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000056; font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMzLnEKS08WsfhZMyNsf0lxlZabHDimkIL67LSFzOTLxHZUdHzjFHYi7nFwGcn35-hZdNWLE8-VeMt5IJnL2GNNzo1HQugrERJRWsf1JcRov3-ofKUY5mDefmbWk4LfJM97MhTRgPe2o/s1600/CIMG7832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMzLnEKS08WsfhZMyNsf0lxlZabHDimkIL67LSFzOTLxHZUdHzjFHYi7nFwGcn35-hZdNWLE8-VeMt5IJnL2GNNzo1HQugrERJRWsf1JcRov3-ofKUY5mDefmbWk4LfJM97MhTRgPe2o/s640/CIMG7832.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">A view of downtown Minneapolis, looking west<br />By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Mom, I can’t stop in the middle of
the bridge,” my daughter replied testily. Somehow, I sensed she might be losing
patience with me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“No, you’re right.” I tried to sound
conciliatory. For two seconds. “But maybe there’s a place over there where we
can pull over and I can get it.” I waved my hand vaguely to my right --<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">-- and immediately I heard a sigh to my left. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“You know there won’t be any place to park, and I can’t just pull over
or I’ll get a ticket.” That wasn’t the first time I heard my daughter say the
same thing during the course of the weekend. She evidently has a little experience with the
Minneapolis parking police.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Oh, please,” I said in my best
wheedling voice. “How about over there – it looks like there’s a parking lot
right past that huge apartment building.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Skeptical, but familiar with her
mother’s wheedling, my daughter dutifully turned right at the light and then
delivered the mail, “We can’t park in that lot. We don’t have a permit.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Well,” I replied, in a quietly triumphant tone. “What
about those <i>parking meters</i>?” And sure enough, to our right was a row of
unoccupied parking meters stretching half a block or so, almost to the end of
the street, where it turned abruptly to the left. The street turned left
because the Interstate, in all its glorious hubbub, was just beyond. As I
gloated, my daughter pulled over and parked next to the last meter, which was
only about 25 feet from the chain link barrier that separated us from the big
road. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Sure enough, it was my lucky day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">And I was duly ecstatic. My daughter, however,
was still skeptical, especially given that the top of the chain link barrier
was at about chin level for me, and was also draped with vines, meaning I would
have to hold the camera up beyond my comfort zone to get any kind of shot. She
hates to see me suffer, and it was admittedly cold outside, so she stayed in
the car. I got out and plugged the meter optimistically.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">After watching me struggle for a few minutes,
my daughter joined me at the fence, but despite the fact that she is nearly ten inches taller than I am, she didn’t offer to take pictures for
me. Which is just as well because that was not the point of this exercise.
Whether she was trying to hurry me along or merely amused by the sight is
difficult to say. Or maybe she was just there to commune with the squirrel that
was hissing at me loudly from the scraggly tree immediately to my right. As a
vegetarian, my daughter no doubt saw that squirrel as another child of the
universe. I saw the tree it was sitting in as yet another barrier between
me and my shot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Anyway, despite all these impediments, I managed to get a few reasonably decent photos. I remained frustrated, however, because they still weren’t exactly what I wanted. Finally, I lowered my camera and told my daughter I’d had enough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">She agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">But … as we turned and began walking
back to the car, I happened to look back. I often do this because sometimes
I’ll see a shot I missed. Sure enough. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Aha,” I said. “What a fool I’ve
been.” My daughter took no issue with that. “I can <i>use</i> those vines, rather than
fighting against them.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial;">"Aha," I said again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">My daughter said, “Mom, it’s cold out
here.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">And sure enough, it was.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic;">Reblogged, with editing changes, from another place and time, this is an account of an actual conversation with my daughter that occurred in the Fall of 2010. My daughter has never openly taken issue with the accuracy of my narrative. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><i>But then again, my daughter is familiar with my wheedling. In fact, this account is generally consistent with </i>all<i> of our conversations. </i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><i>What I never </i>have<i> understood is exactly what the expression "sure enough" means.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></i></span></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-68613952098431918182012-07-04T22:14:00.000-07:002012-07-04T22:14:24.931-07:00A Fine Night for Looking Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus8Cm9Uaay6obbyrqQHU8YIQYt2m0RhmueFOcQsPmYgstVzNiS2qwkAPWrj2BMKBXIr-kyXx83UBMCES5gc9kRUBZSnfh4opphPOVAxKccUYdv2e4pB0H4DATAYse7AlEU5GrUz1ztXE/s1600/LawrenceTree3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus8Cm9Uaay6obbyrqQHU8YIQYt2m0RhmueFOcQsPmYgstVzNiS2qwkAPWrj2BMKBXIr-kyXx83UBMCES5gc9kRUBZSnfh4opphPOVAxKccUYdv2e4pB0H4DATAYse7AlEU5GrUz1ztXE/s640/LawrenceTree3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Georgia O'Keeffe<br />"The Lawrence Tree" (1929)</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyo0yvNGESJVhijr-Q39Xwtb6Y82ipyW6SEvaSF_n34fGz2a2uoNASTS494cm8TGuGQ7ks21OAMwwGq17QTdlLCfdcDJmOippPxKxBO21Bnl5JKztBxXr9QGkT36hPnmoLak35hlyrxB8/s1600/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyo0yvNGESJVhijr-Q39Xwtb6Y82ipyW6SEvaSF_n34fGz2a2uoNASTS494cm8TGuGQ7ks21OAMwwGq17QTdlLCfdcDJmOippPxKxBO21Bnl5JKztBxXr9QGkT36hPnmoLak35hlyrxB8/s1600/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" /></a></div>
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<span class="huge" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">"I often lay on that bench looking up into the tree, </span></span></div>
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<span class="huge" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">past the trunk and up into the branches. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">It was particularly fine at night with the stars above the tree."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">~ Georgia O'Keeffe</span></span></div>
<span style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br /></span>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-41810921931751280572012-07-04T21:24:00.001-07:002012-07-04T21:26:55.325-07:00Finding Serenity<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtS2ocS3QDGMy00HgluKChB1LocEHq62KLdNsOWfgZABNDmBKkVspPYPOfta3lqzrNABZxDGvgUlxoB6vK1oOcu10RDiM8yGa129fWHdEP4T2FhpSLaJzQrpkkFc2XoQ2xFsctKXS9hg8/s1600/DSC_0306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtS2ocS3QDGMy00HgluKChB1LocEHq62KLdNsOWfgZABNDmBKkVspPYPOfta3lqzrNABZxDGvgUlxoB6vK1oOcu10RDiM8yGa129fWHdEP4T2FhpSLaJzQrpkkFc2XoQ2xFsctKXS9hg8/s640/DSC_0306.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YrXSNnxh6oSEWaXHuDK_RoxhjvmIkwiMfbdgtQTASV3IK_zMTY8y5NFsioR1sy35LlrkHBK3r2WBiBFhW9mUcR5da-sCGW_m7xfyYkv4xqOstfalZRrLiMzMbYzI5h2thhT6uGkefeg/s1600/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YrXSNnxh6oSEWaXHuDK_RoxhjvmIkwiMfbdgtQTASV3IK_zMTY8y5NFsioR1sy35LlrkHBK3r2WBiBFhW9mUcR5da-sCGW_m7xfyYkv4xqOstfalZRrLiMzMbYzI5h2thhT6uGkefeg/s200/zeimusu_Swash_ornament-1.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">"A garden must combine the poetic and the mysterious</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">with a feeling of serenity and joy."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">~ Luis Barragan</span></div>
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<br /></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-16183554152054938512012-07-04T11:22:00.001-07:002012-07-06T19:52:32.636-07:00Travelogue ~ Chasing Geological History (Part 1)<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Ever since college, the geographical and geological history of my home state has been of some interest to me. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Most of Wisconsin was, at one time, covered with glaciers. Nowadays, I
happen to live in the southwestern corner of the state, where the physical
geography was such that the glaciers never came here. The topography of this “driftless” area is different from the rest of the state in several ways. In general, this
area is hillier than those areas that were ground down by the power of giant moving slabs of ice. On the other hand, while there are hills and ridges and valleys, there are no familiar glacial
features such as drumlins, kames, and glacial pothole lakes. Glaciers are
partly why Wisconsin has more than 12,000 lakes, about half of which are named either “Round” or “Trout” or “Long.” Almost none of these otherwise
ubiquitous pothole lakes are located in my corner of the state. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;"><br />Store this information away because its importance will eventually become apparent -- with any luck that will occur sometime before the glaciers come again.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1MUfGJ0XNQg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Musical Interlude</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">"Terror at Trout Lake"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">My daughter Moonbeam (not her real name) is 28, and ever since we got over the
rocky teenage years, she has been in many ways the best friend that a mother
could have. She is a wonderful companion, and she is, fortunately, interested
in many of the same things I am. One
of these is history. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Beam attended college in the Twin Cities, and earned a fine
arts degree. She is an aspiring artist with a pretty responsible day job and a
nice apartment in a beautiful, upscale area of St. Paul. Since I have been living alone, I have visited Moonbeam in the Cities several times. We have had a few
urban adventures, most of which have involved Beam’s indulgence of my fledgling
photography hobby. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">During one such visit last fall, we decided to venture
outside the urban environment and explore some place that neither of us had
seen before. We chose a day trip to Stillwater, a small, touristy town
located just north of the Interstate, about 15 miles east of the Cities, along
the St. Croix River. Stillwater is
a very old town, with many quaint shops and restaurants lining its main
thoroughfare.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmpwcI3-zGRqw9rWRzFLSmWNTxd32ka1_tkj1olxmF9juZrjIVmjjXbxpuXWcPxzb_ZNyo_8YLw-GVV1Jrf7YVbk1tvcyiw_nPJYH9p4NLJglorhBFcJJUrTBDIKi_kIdnELW1k2LbEM/s1600/CIMG7747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmpwcI3-zGRqw9rWRzFLSmWNTxd32ka1_tkj1olxmF9juZrjIVmjjXbxpuXWcPxzb_ZNyo_8YLw-GVV1Jrf7YVbk1tvcyiw_nPJYH9p4NLJglorhBFcJJUrTBDIKi_kIdnELW1k2LbEM/s640/CIMG7747.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">After some obligatory shopping for vintage items and a much-needed coffee break, we stopped briefly at the edge of the river so I could take a few photos before heading north
to find out what else there might be to see. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">This photo was taken from the river walkway and shows a
rather unusual “vertical lift” bridge that connects Stillwater on the Minnesota side with Wisconsin on the
other side.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BUh452C-fAUsjS3K6Ztbl8ER0V4yFuj3r1BzCogxRp4ByrkrPgtGHBQbbejEmfROwwmxNLCzmZoGZG1xQ6sL_SSATTdG1YWW3LY3dooTkxmQ3t0aZ-qgpcFsONIUObCFYsZ6ciXJ_E8/s1600/CIMG7677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BUh452C-fAUsjS3K6Ztbl8ER0V4yFuj3r1BzCogxRp4ByrkrPgtGHBQbbejEmfROwwmxNLCzmZoGZG1xQ6sL_SSATTdG1YWW3LY3dooTkxmQ3t0aZ-qgpcFsONIUObCFYsZ6ciXJ_E8/s640/CIMG7677.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Turning in the other direction, we observed several riverboats, some modern, and some more traditional, that had been parked at the end of the walkway, presumably bedded down for the season.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXoZrj4SrUmU4Ma9q628LOHLRfeZRA6iHl_8vVie9L3i3a0QQa5k_uvbvR0B9gmI8KQOi9SsxPr6wWJyk0i-glZ6m4X_JwIDeNeZMAVI_x9cqb8kV2CLZFkKkIki5V61Mx3SKxdCEYW8/s1600/CIMG7680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXoZrj4SrUmU4Ma9q628LOHLRfeZRA6iHl_8vVie9L3i3a0QQa5k_uvbvR0B9gmI8KQOi9SsxPr6wWJyk0i-glZ6m4X_JwIDeNeZMAVI_x9cqb8kV2CLZFkKkIki5V61Mx3SKxdCEYW8/s640/CIMG7680.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">The St. Croix is a substantial
river that divides the northern part of Wisconsin from Minnesota and ultimately joins the Mississippi just south of Hudson, Wisconsin. We anticipated having a chance to get some good views of it, but the ride north from Stillwater proved somewhat disappointing as lookouts over
the water are surprisingly few and far between. Fortunately, it was early autumn, which
meant that the early colors were beginning to appear.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAXlOodjw9n4PCY_BYGPT_YPoU3eCT4-oQ4MQ0zvFivBLpYRaD_1Xj1-e-K8MRrftOqgq4_VIoXwJIPOQF5Y1__HAkk5YkclcLyOewEC8qZPbtC-kXz6RUydMQNNKWuK-Aw-sDryfdM4/s1600/CIMG7704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAXlOodjw9n4PCY_BYGPT_YPoU3eCT4-oQ4MQ0zvFivBLpYRaD_1Xj1-e-K8MRrftOqgq4_VIoXwJIPOQF5Y1__HAkk5YkclcLyOewEC8qZPbtC-kXz6RUydMQNNKWuK-Aw-sDryfdM4/s640/CIMG7704.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Looking back from the same spot that I was standing to take the above photo revealed
a delightful panorama view of Stillwater, now to the south, with sunlight dancing across the water. The city was actually much farther away than it appears here, owing to the power of the zoom camera. In
some ways, Stillwater reminded me of the little tourist towns in Door County,
Wisconsin, and in particular the harbor at Ephraim, which is similarly
picturesque.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBClXFbPIU4H_Xq4LOClis45kNnSQAImzVF1CRmvQVbWzGXrt0txk5kDNPE1888vbf5RZvvs2FcmH9J65rtmyy0jljP9xo1l_W0N_R-EMvcBNc707cBQ8vDZRwF-ffFzus3xtwOcNHKlI/s1600/CIMG7711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBClXFbPIU4H_Xq4LOClis45kNnSQAImzVF1CRmvQVbWzGXrt0txk5kDNPE1888vbf5RZvvs2FcmH9J65rtmyy0jljP9xo1l_W0N_R-EMvcBNc707cBQ8vDZRwF-ffFzus3xtwOcNHKlI/s640/CIMG7711.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">And that was about it for our day last fall. We drove north for a while longer without finding another vista of the river. When we
reached Highway 8, we decided it was time to turn back and head for home. Along the
way, we came across a quirky little sculpture garden that contained such fine objets
d’art as this.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;"> You might not be surprised to learn that w</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">e didn’t stay
here long. Moonbeam astutely characterized it as "creepy."</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBQAmrtf4CA5MBme_r8i1gMlt_90-Y-_XSlYGygkXr-b-G3mc2nhgEo-61pmTsoYdmVDG4Uxv9UqU6yIDYJC3V0eu3VDKQAFiPIK_zJkpKKbGl4Zs_LQBNfKZwv1M7aXw7ZOnj478ldI/s1600/CIMG7722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBQAmrtf4CA5MBme_r8i1gMlt_90-Y-_XSlYGygkXr-b-G3mc2nhgEo-61pmTsoYdmVDG4Uxv9UqU6yIDYJC3V0eu3VDKQAFiPIK_zJkpKKbGl4Zs_LQBNfKZwv1M7aXw7ZOnj478ldI/s640/CIMG7722.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">As we traveled south, I amused myself by snapping a few sky
photos from the car, as shown below. The light was interesting that afternoon, changeable without being threatening. Despite appearances, there was no rain in those clouds.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW24chCfgBAWgulmvLyit_tAtXbnQWHv4aWMi7hYkMeBdBtZ7VY9xAljCTJR2gOpoXhuwM37I8EHIGe-z-C5gkvy2t2XMc6LZcvuPHBo6QrG-lp1wemu-JrD-tBfjnoF52c8S5K_BYBfU/s1600/CIMG7731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW24chCfgBAWgulmvLyit_tAtXbnQWHv4aWMi7hYkMeBdBtZ7VY9xAljCTJR2gOpoXhuwM37I8EHIGe-z-C5gkvy2t2XMc6LZcvuPHBo6QrG-lp1wemu-JrD-tBfjnoF52c8S5K_BYBfU/s640/CIMG7731.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">When we got back to Stillwater, the clouds had cleared off, and we stopped briefly to take a
few pictures looking down the river. This is the same lift bridge shown above, viewed from the opposite side, as it opened to let a small boat pass through.</span><o:p>
</o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDKlWyi0WscRS9Vh4wbPpvsbGk0NW_dEGUE_pYaBnBjyOfxnADkfyl5DCdtCGUak30Hrnl2yPb7g7UmtOIe5C6QKK_J7fWCaCqSiHmiLqZSgnxNJaQY8XtPWmZa84xldxyNB_ei7nTQg/s1600/CIMG7737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDKlWyi0WscRS9Vh4wbPpvsbGk0NW_dEGUE_pYaBnBjyOfxnADkfyl5DCdtCGUak30Hrnl2yPb7g7UmtOIe5C6QKK_J7fWCaCqSiHmiLqZSgnxNJaQY8XtPWmZa84xldxyNB_ei7nTQg/s640/CIMG7737.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">For the active mind, it is always a full day when you are exploring things you have never seen before. But we didn't learn much about geology that day, or even much about the St. Croix River. It took another trip, this past spring, to accomplish that. </span></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-85158627524062123522012-07-04T10:55:00.002-07:002012-07-04T10:55:32.776-07:00My Kind of Fireworks<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tZtAz0neoEFilkDOWV_Sa8zLdD2j4AcOPCnjzBqPXFISSsRnmLYi9iS4gj6jvEdQS7RTYZK-Pr1nXEcJyuYd-aWRLnz7LVyyXUaepJMzjPPsGryKY6Jgfih-UU1gINUF63TGZuC_kGA/s1600/DSC_0189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tZtAz0neoEFilkDOWV_Sa8zLdD2j4AcOPCnjzBqPXFISSsRnmLYi9iS4gj6jvEdQS7RTYZK-Pr1nXEcJyuYd-aWRLnz7LVyyXUaepJMzjPPsGryKY6Jgfih-UU1gINUF63TGZuC_kGA/s640/DSC_0189.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-14063474084215217722012-07-03T13:34:00.001-07:002012-07-03T21:16:33.655-07:00Sometimes a Flower ....<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">I aspire to be a photographer. Three years after re-engaging in this once-and-future, late-life hobby, I now have two fancy cameras, two less-fancy cameras, several custom lenses, a
tripod and a flash attachment that I’ve never used, several books I’ve never
read, myriad batteries and chargers and memory cards, and a couple of camera bags that seemed like good ideas at the time, but
no longer have a lot of practical utility.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Mostly I photograph flowers. One reason for this is that,
being alone, I don’t travel very much, and landscape and architectural photography – which I also
love -- are less available to me. But the main reason is simply that I love
flowers. I used to be a gardener, and my mother before me was a really great
gardener. But I no longer maintain a garden, and so photography gives me a
chance to get out into other gardens and recapture at least in part that same
feeling. Today it is nearly 100 degrees outside, and so, in order to indulge my
photography addiction, I bought my own flowers.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">My ultimate goal is to become a sort of impressionist
photographer of flowers. I believe my best photos are like the one of heavenly blue plumbago in the post
immediately below, where the flowers take on an ethereal, water color quality.
This photo of gerbera daisies purchased at the grocery store has a little
bit of that same charm.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OeA7WiOwliSstSbQsTAbZ8nK1vL_dbXW5N8aYExQz2XUilI_TB6EPPrFs31jxsjwEG0Mr18ah_M9bn0XqY7G_rjxuQ3d0TxBUlxl11k60HpcDmch0Ye_Cf2Y3vEmFVIxS4HuH689RPY/s1600/DSC_0066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OeA7WiOwliSstSbQsTAbZ8nK1vL_dbXW5N8aYExQz2XUilI_TB6EPPrFs31jxsjwEG0Mr18ah_M9bn0XqY7G_rjxuQ3d0TxBUlxl11k60HpcDmch0Ye_Cf2Y3vEmFVIxS4HuH689RPY/s640/DSC_0066.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-size: small;">Another thing I love to do with flower photography is to play around with backgrounds. The photograph immediately below was taken on a relatively bright late winter afternoon on a small table in front of a window that was not shuttered. The backdrop was a black table mat. I think it took on a sort of Rembrandt light quality, which is appropriate given that the tulip itself looks like something straight out of the Seventeenth Century Dutch "tulip mania" scandal.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8uUCcsB-wTeNMqGXc-xHgANanNX0xQn4rBdqgdVZcySjQWj0r2YLlzWR89mVUzOH4YcBRCMS8KU02gZ2ZOEjElYTQ0s81GJWAQ2OeucZ8gzTF6v-NT720ZmZXjI-Fvzy41cNvaXCVMM/s1600/CIMG6295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8uUCcsB-wTeNMqGXc-xHgANanNX0xQn4rBdqgdVZcySjQWj0r2YLlzWR89mVUzOH4YcBRCMS8KU02gZ2ZOEjElYTQ0s81GJWAQ2OeucZ8gzTF6v-NT720ZmZXjI-Fvzy41cNvaXCVMM/s640/CIMG6295.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Flowers can be metaphorical for many things in life, and
sometimes I enjoy using my photos in that way as well. I confess
to having a little Georgia O’Keeffe in me. I admired Georgia O’Keeffe and her
amazing flower paintings long before I ever realized that she grew up not 30
miles from where I am now sitting as I write this. O’Keeffe’s flower paintings have often been characterized as
highly sexual in nature. As I once observed to a friend of mine, who wondered
why I chose to take so many photographs of a particularly phallic tropical
flowering plant, this is only natural because flowers are in fact the sex
organs of plants. It is indeed very hard to look at flowers for long without seeing
the sexuality in them. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVazsbuSTluCXAC8KEw9KaocoQZoJbCXu4-YU5SJyFawG_tS7JvXlelckm_p0SGMd0iGtLrqSmmlc-fvLNFGEIEpqrVp21D_VdWONWy3Qka8qGiQprdVCTV8y98cu1YeIOULvJgCG62aE/s1600/CIMG9142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVazsbuSTluCXAC8KEw9KaocoQZoJbCXu4-YU5SJyFawG_tS7JvXlelckm_p0SGMd0iGtLrqSmmlc-fvLNFGEIEpqrVp21D_VdWONWy3Qka8qGiQprdVCTV8y98cu1YeIOULvJgCG62aE/s640/CIMG9142.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Ironically, however, when Georgia O’Keeffe was asked why she
painted flowers more than anything else, she responded that they were less
expensive than human models, by which I believe she meant nude models. With a
smile on my face, I often think that she was either pulling someone’s leg, or that
she -- consciously or subconsciously -- made up for the lack of models in her sometimes highly erotic characterizations
of the flowers that she painted.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">Sometimes, however, flowers are just flowers. And yet, even
as such, flowers can tell a story. This photo of the same gerbera daisies shown
above, for example, tells the story of my kitchen counter in language only a
D-SLR camera can speak. In that way, although it is highly representational,
the photograph does take on something of an impressionistic quality. I am
particularly pleased to have gotten these effects without using flash given the poor light
levels in my apartment most of the time. It shows that, while I still have a long way to go, I'm learning. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9OBr1qHqxw47L_U1yWMxbARW6bUnKlU7RaHeSLs3FIBjJ5HNIpeTvd2B24mWzQnUpVrLWG9KghsUcC9G_QkSmLU8WUrrzm_OCjvo3wAGIiDkXvy4kjGbNiIvhNCr3IhsNrXc63QfgT7g/s1600/DSC_0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9OBr1qHqxw47L_U1yWMxbARW6bUnKlU7RaHeSLs3FIBjJ5HNIpeTvd2B24mWzQnUpVrLWG9KghsUcC9G_QkSmLU8WUrrzm_OCjvo3wAGIiDkXvy4kjGbNiIvhNCr3IhsNrXc63QfgT7g/s640/DSC_0030.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">The golden objects at the left are nothing more than a few
small glass jars that I haven’t found a use for yet. At the right, near the top,
is my Kitchenaid mixer. Although tromp l’oeil effects like this are fun to
achieve, they’re just not as satisfying for me as the watercolor, or in
particular, the metaphor.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">And I make no apologies for that. Oh, no, I don't.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-62004500257236307712012-07-02T12:33:00.002-07:002012-07-02T12:51:07.005-07:00Only a Heart Will Know<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihApRYeZPVcMDiADoTycamqgr6XpwVEjT5SHTHDiiC3OzDhmLkACILc2T2ILHwFdWFh-QdYbNQE6V6_ZqosyHFKWt-BijJgP9bdXW8t3EzSthXH2J8VdafD0mbT4nEXIS9Our9CvZP_-4/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihApRYeZPVcMDiADoTycamqgr6XpwVEjT5SHTHDiiC3OzDhmLkACILc2T2ILHwFdWFh-QdYbNQE6V6_ZqosyHFKWt-BijJgP9bdXW8t3EzSthXH2J8VdafD0mbT4nEXIS9Our9CvZP_-4/s640/DSC_0036.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">The human <em style="font-style: normal;">heart</em>, at whatever age, </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">opens <em style="font-style: normal;">only </em>to the <em style="font-style: normal;">heart</em> that opens in return. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">~ Maria Edgeworth</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tone Aanderaas, Ricky Bendix</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Melancholy of an Odalisque"</span></div>Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-6023010375943078872012-06-12T05:19:00.000-07:002012-06-12T05:19:06.651-07:00Photo Gallery<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfrSP30pm1eRViR6Qh23uiZxKOrB8VYdYoS9uGgKRVEnGGy9RLCqw97gxusOtYM3vlZctAqxp-N-ervHdAtOGd6MmYMOFwGXc5jWFRIm6nMMokn0ZVs_no4XwSR9WBy3m1JrgxykeGRg/s1600/DSC_0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfrSP30pm1eRViR6Qh23uiZxKOrB8VYdYoS9uGgKRVEnGGy9RLCqw97gxusOtYM3vlZctAqxp-N-ervHdAtOGd6MmYMOFwGXc5jWFRIm6nMMokn0ZVs_no4XwSR9WBy3m1JrgxykeGRg/s640/DSC_0045.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;">By Divine Ms. Moon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772826964265337886.post-11231287784606038402012-06-10T14:31:00.003-07:002012-06-10T14:31:59.379-07:00Time Unfolds<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">"Time does not change us. It just unfolds us."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"> ~ Max Frisch</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Gibbous moon, photographed by crew<br />of International Space Station<br />from <a href="http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/gallery/images/station/crew-7/hires/iss007e12046.jpg">NASA</a></span></td></tr>
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<!--EndFragment-->Divine Ms. Moonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00517336425661233719noreply@blogger.com0