Wednesday, July 23, 2014

goodbye, bag

I've had this bag a long time - probably since the early 90s.  I can't claim any notable provenance for it: I didn't lug it back from the Peruvian Andes (curiously, I don't know, and don't deeply care, what happened to a rather similar bag which had those very roots).  Rather, it came from a store in Little Clarendon Street, Oxford, called Tumi - a very reliable emporium of South American folksy stuff, including, undoubtedly, nasty cassettes of people playing pan pipes.  It's been to a number of Bread Loaf summer schools; it's acted as a camera bag; I've just been very fond of it, even if, for years now, it's effectively been no more than an art supplies storage bag.

Until last winter, when it was one of the random objects in this house to succumb to moth.  Not Moth, the cat, but those small flying things with fabric-hungry larvae.  So out it went into the frost, to get eggs and larvae killed by the cold (I think it has that effect - at least, I hope so - we're always putting suspicious looking fabric in the freezer).  And there it has stayed.  I think mice may have been nesting in it.  It really is beyond use.  But it's hard to say goodbye.  Alice - gently, tactfully, sensibly - has suggested that maybe I can take a photograph, and let it go.  So, bag: thank you, and good bye.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

feline fustration

Really, it's too bad - they think - why can't they be allowed out to catch the little lizard that's on the table covering out there?  Mind you, batting the window in a frenzied fashion is tolerable at breakfast time: in the middle of the night, it's not - and last night mice were using the outside bedroom window sill as a super-highway, given the pounding that the window itself was receiving at the end of Walter and Moth's paws.

Monday, July 21, 2014

ophelia selfie

Well you may ask ... Penultimate class today, on Photography, the World, and the Internet, and once the presenters had taken us through the serious stuff, like twitter images of the downed airliner, it was on to selfies ... and they sent us off, of course, to take a selfie and send it to them with a tag (in a very small time span).  So back to the fishpond for me, given that Ophelia had figured in various ways earlier in the course (Bellocq, Tom Hunter), and that, well, fish have been featuring in my photographic consciousness.  I look more suntanned than wan and drowning, but then, my attempt using a different filter, even if pallid, makes me look as though I'm heading off to a nunnery to try and seduce all the nuns.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

summer colleagues

I'll miss you guys!  L to R, Bruce Smith (not that he actually counts as a summer colleague), Jeff Nunokawa, Patricia Powell, Jesse Aleman, and Simon Ortiz;

Carol MacVey, and Jeff again;

our fearless leader, Cheryl Glenn;

my friend and general Bread Loaf supremo for the last twenty years (looking curiously soulful), Alfredo Lujan;

a better picture of Simon;

and a pin-up picture of Jeff.  One more week!

Saturday, July 19, 2014

new mexican onions

I disrupted this Santa Fe Farmers Market display just a few minutes later, and came home with some of the red onions.  Set out like this, they look as though they belong at the County Fair.  By this stage in the summer the market is in full swing: I bought a lot of different colored and very knobbly carrots; new potatoes; leeks; chives - and more - all bounty to add to yesterday's Eldorado haul.  But there weren't any baby alpacas ...

Friday, July 18, 2014

the adorableness of baby alpacas

Look who I found in the Eldorado Farmers' Market this afternoon!  I think I was so excited that most of the photos of the two alpacalets were slightly blurred - hence the two delightful images of one of the young mothers, below.  I certainly moved round the market in a state of rapture, and feel quite lucky that I managed to come away with some perfectly rational purchases, like Siberian Kale.

Note how they've been clipped for summer, giving them a rather fetching corduroy effect.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

we don't like thunderstorms

[this is for Barry, marooned by the weather in Dallas].  Poor Walter Gomez.  Every time there's a thunderstorm, or even a thunderstorm in the offing (for this evening's effort suddenly veered off to Pecos, leaving only a rainbow), he takes refuge.  Usually, as here, it's on the top shelf of the shoe rack in my closet.  All the other kitties decide that they're going to be as macho as possible about extreme weather, but not our Walt ...