 One of the delights of the Saturday Farmers' Market is buying flowers from White Yarrow Farm. For the past several weeks, I've enjoyed putting together a bouquet with the theme and variation of colors and shapes that these zinnias offer -- a multitude of combinations of yellow, orange, pink, green, and petals, stars, curlicues, feathers, and scrolls.     
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 More caterpillars, this time five swallowtails, at different stages, feasting on my parsley. I left them there, checking on them a couple times a day. They kept chomping and apparently thriving. I found one in the oregano, leaning into its silk sling just before entering the chrysalis stage, and then again just afterwards. Chances are it will stay in the chrysalis all winter. Right now it is well camouflaged -- even though I know exactly where it is, it still takes me a couple minutes of looking before I pick it out, so I am not surprised that I haven't found the other chrysalis. See if you can find this one in the last photo.  Two swallowtails, two different instars (stages of growth between times of shedding their skin).  This one has just shed its skin.  Hanging by a thread, awaiting transformation.  A few hours later  Same chrysalis, a little further away. Can you find him?  This spring we planted two morning glory starts, hoping for early blooms. Sure enough, the vines went twining up our trellis and soon we had two or three blooms. Then the local baby bunnies nipped each vine near the root. Sigh. But now, months later, they have sprung to life again. Or perhaps these are from seeds sown last year. In any case, each morning there are luminous blooms trumpeting a welcome to the day. Then on a recent morning walk near the dam, we spotted a heron perched on a branch, watching the water. A different kind of morning glory! He was still there a half-hour later when we returned. While I was taking the second set of photos, a kingfisher flew in, perched on the other end of that cement wall, and peered down. He was too small to record well, but I enjoyed watching the two watchers.       A few days ago we had a gray, foggy morning -- but there was color if you took the time to look. And foggy water droplets revealed the invisible, like the spider web near my morning glories, or the one appearing to float in mid-air below the crabapple tree. (There is a video of this spiderweb at the end of the blog, but it is easy to miss -- look for the triangle/arrow to start it. You may need to come to the site itself to see it.)       
     We arrived in Edmonton to haze from forest fires in BC. The last couple days of our visit were spent in Canmore, near Banff and we wondered whether we'd even be able to see the mountains. The air quality varied, so that sometimes the mountains might have more appropriately been called the Smokies than the Rockies, but we did get to enjoy them.       Sunrise through smoke.   In mid-August, we traveled up to Alberta for a 90th birthday celebration for my father-in-law, Ike Glick. It was a weekend of family gatherings, with generations catching up with each other, game playing, storytelling and the sharing of good food, laughter and conversation.  The nearly nine-weeks old and the nearly nine-decades old exchanging tall tales.  Grandson Trevor won the "who looks the most like Ike's old pilot's license photo" contest.  Lighting the birthday candles.  Ike and Millie |
My approach to contemplative photography --
"Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." Mary Oliver in "Sometimes" Categories
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