At the farm, you don’t need to go far to find something that catches your attention. You might say that being a spectator is a regular activity. Sometimes fairly big crowds of 25 or more people will be looking on. Other times, just a quiet pair observing a quiet activity.
What do you think has caught the attention of these two? Let me know in the comments.
Tonight, I sit here with a migraine wreaking havoc in my head. The pain is behind my eyes, swirling around until it reaches the top of my skull like an explosive ready to go off. On days like these, I try to think calm soothing thoughts. Clear my mind and close my eyes. A dark cool room and as little noise as possible often help, but not always.
I can’t always determine the trigger for one of my migraines, but today, I know it was the nine hours I spent with my face in a computer screen. Other triggers include yeasty foods and stress. Still, most of the time, I have no idea.
Some migraines come on quickly and surprise me. Others, I can feel coming on long before they hit. Those slow rolling migraines allow me to take medication, so that I can head them off or lessen their impact.
My migraines definitely have an impact on my life. There are times when I can push on, in spite of the pain, but other times I can’t really function. I have to lay down and hope that I can sleep and awake without pain.
That said, I am heading to bed.
Jim and I snuck in a fast trip into the Cincinnati Museum of Art this past weekend. We were in a hurry because I had a wedding too shoot starting in the mid afternoon and there was a lot of windshield time in-between. The excuse was to see a collection of Samurai weapons and armor that was closing the next day. However, it was a side gallery that proved to be the highlight to the outing for me. A collection of Tiffany windows and lamps.
Gorgeous subtle colors. See for yourself.
The main gallery at the Springfield Museum of Art during an exhibition on the artwork, photography and stories behind Norman Rockwell’s iconic Saturday Evening Post covers.
This small museum has one of my favorite galleries, full of gorgeous natural light filtered in through the windows high on the exterior walls.
Eva Went to the Ball
I’m really not the best at Photoshop. So, on rainy days like this one, I sometimes pick out a photo that had potential but didn’t quite make the grade. I give them a go in Lightroom first and then port them on to Photoshop for the heavy lifting.
So it was with this photo of Eva. In the before, you can see that there is quite a bit wrong with the photo from exposure to those ugly metal chairs. The event is a Civil War ball in a historic building. Why fill it with modern metal chairs?
In the after, I’ve used the clone tool and paint brushes to remove the offending chairs and added adjustment layers with masks to make tonal and color corrections.
Now, the rain has passed and it’s time to go out and play…or take a nap. I could go either way.
Have a great Saturday, folks.
The Fine Art of Visiting
Perhaps as a result of my semi-southern upbringing, I enjoy visiting. No special occasion is required. You only need the desire to stop by and spend some time with friends and family. It’s a time to catch up on the week. Talk about the events of the day or share information on common acquaintances.
It’s understood that visiting is not a formal occasion. No one is going to wait on you, though visiting often involves food. To underscore that point, the best kind of visiting takes place in the kitchen.
At the farm, visiting often involves sitting near the wood stove, enjoying its warmth. Debbie and the farmer will be there. So will Sarah, the farm’s official ambassador and mouser.
As the wood pops in the stove’s woodbox, the kettle steams and the conversation ebbs and flows. Laughter punctuates the stories told and comfortable silence gives time for thought and reflection.
Visiting may be an art, but it is not pretentious. It’s democratic. Anyone can participate, even you. Go visit with someone you know and polish up those conversation skills you’ve let become rusty.