a magical secret chair

yesterday, i took a walk down around the lake after work. i needed to get outside and get some fresh air, so i donned my rubber boots and headed down there. i walked closer to the lake than usual, thinking that the mama swan was on a nest somewhere along the edge. i wanted to find her and see the nest. the papa swan was out on the lake and didn't flee as usual when he saw me. he actually seemed a bit aggressive, so maybe the nest was on our side of the lake and i was looking in the wrong spot. but, in looking, i happened upon an amazing handmade lounge chair. it was made of sticks and held together by fishing line. it looked like it had been there for a few years, so it wasn't newly constructed. i didn't try sitting in it, i just photographed it. but i might want to go out there and try it out. i wasn't sure it was strong enough to hold me anymore, but i will try it this weekend. i rather want to sit there and look out on the lake. it was quite idyllic and in such a peaceful spot. it felt a bit like happening upon a secret magic haven. if it's nice this weekend, i want to go down and feel the magic.

magical photo

the magical thing about photography is that you never know what you're going to get. as i contorted myself amongst the stinging nettles to try to catch the right ray of light during the golden hour, i didn't imagine this photograph. but due to the magic of very shallow depth of field (thanks to the 50mm fixed lens, at 1.4 aperture) and the perfect (read: low) light, this was my result. and i think it's magical, even if i do say so myself. and even more, i love that despite it being a digital photo, it has a film-like quality. and it's straight out of my camera, no processing at all, aside from a slight crop on the left. it's a photo you could fall into and get lost.

winter's last gasp

when i looked out the window this morning at a world covered in white, i exclaimed, "that is total crap!" but i couldn't hold onto that feeling when i stepped outside to do animal chores. the landscape is transformed, clean, beautiful, softer somehow. the air was still, sounds dampened, it was magical.

the chickens run around, lifting their feet as if they're trying out monty python's silly walks.

this little hen is taking a break from sitting on her nest of 16 eggs to bathe in the fresh, clean snow and survey the world.

she's queen of the little rabbit houses husband built so there could eventually be a little rabbit street (oddly, we've never put them into use).

lurking below the fluffy, white surfaces, fat buds, waiting to burst forth.

despite the snow, spring is in the air and the air is full of freshness and that pre-coital bird chatter that happens only in the spring.

even frankie frolicked and attacked falling bits of snow here and there, enjoying himself before coming in to warm his feet and have a morning nap.

the fruit bushes and the garden may be covered with snow right now, but it's fleeting and it won't be long before the bushes burst forth with leaves and blossoms and we begin to work in the garden. the green hope hangs in the very air, still, breathless, waiting quietly beneath the snow, secure that its moment is coming.

the bees are still tucked in, but their work will begin soon as well.

it may be winter's last gasp, but spring is definitely in the air.

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map lovers, check out this.

70 years of luck

i bought a stack of old books at the flea market the other day. among them was a little almanac for northern norway for 1942. i grabbed it because it had quaint handwriting in the back and interesting charts of things like animal prints in the snow and old norwegian measurements and how they compared to the metric system.  i was paging through it today and found this perfect four-leaf clover.  tho' my family helpfully, immediately and most unromantically suggested that it could have been put there anytime since, i choose to believe it was tucked in here in 1942.

that's 70 years of good luck.

i imagine it has such stories to tell and that if i listen very carefully, it will whisper them to me. (possibly in norwegian.)