It took me a few days to come around to this photo because it’s kind of awkward to look at.  It’s disorienting and the parts that are in focus don’t seem to make sense.  But the light is good and the parts that are in focus are super sharp.  And anyway, photography is subjective and sometimes it’s the weird stuff that breaks boundaries.  I’m just trying to do my part.  By being weird.

380 degrees hot!  Proceed with caution.  Aren’t I hilarious?  I think so.

Shockingly, I’ve retained my sense of humor on a Monday.  Not that there is any reason not to be in good spirits every day of the week, but this particular weekend was an unexpected mix of productive, relaxing, and fun.  I’m hoping for many more weekends of the same.  This may cure my pre-winter blues.

This was taken in the backyard of my childhood home in Watertown, NY.  The entire time I was growing up I was under the impression that this was a crab apple tree.  One of many that my dad would pay me, my brother, and any willing friends 10 cents an apple to pick up off the ground so as to not get stuck in the lawnmower.  I always tried to negotiate up to a dollar an apple, but to no avail.  It wasn’t until I was home recently that my aunt picked one off the tree, declared that it looked like a Red Delicious, and took a bite.  Only to find out that these were NOT in fact crab apples.  It’s slightly disappointing that I had no idea I could eat fruit straight from my yard all those years.  I never understood why my dad wanted to cut down those trees in the first place.  They had prime locations for hanging upside down and climbing up pretty damn high so no one knew you were spying.  Ah well.  Life goes on.

Since I keep writing about my awesome father, and I know he doesn’t read my blog so I know he won’t get mad about me posting this photo (and even if he does, my brother already threatened to put it as his Facebook photo), I figured this was only appropriate.

Unlike his garden where he just throws the seeds in the ground and out shoots James’ giant peach, my father takes pristine care of his pool.  Not only does he vacuum it when there are but two bugs to be seen floating around, but he also has placed plastic owls, that started as one and have grown to four, around the deck to scare away the birds so that they don’t shit in the crystal clear waters.

I must say, though, that this makes visiting my childhood home quite spectacular.  Now if only I wasn’t subjected to the golf/football/wrestling conversation that makes me want to rip out my eardrums with a steaknife.  However, I did manage to make him sit through an entire episode of Project Runway with me.  He only asked once if those guys were gay.

I believe I’ve mentioned it before, but my Dad is one badass gardener.  When I showed up a couple weeks ago the fridge was full of fresh tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumbers.  And that was just about the last of it for the summer.  There were still a few tomatoes left on the vines in the backyard which is where I got this shot.  When I was growing up I always ate green beans straight from the garden and we always had homegrown pumpkins for Halloween.  Now, living in a huge ass city where you’re lucky if you have a basil plant growing in your window, I have a much deeper appreciation for the fresh picked stuff that I grew up with.

I apparently have a thing for white, flowery bikinis.  Because I now have three.  All with pink and green flowery patterns.  This one I bought in Italy at Calzedonia, which is this crazy chain that sells swimwear and tights.  Oh, Italy.  Sometimes you are very strange (stamps at the post office?  I don’t think so.  Try the tobacco shop!), but sometimes you get it very, very right.

The pendant was an earring and I lost its twin sister.  The chain was a super long necklace that I’d grown bored with.  Together they make me a sexy new piece for fall.  Is recrafted jewelry making in my future?

I couldn’t believe it when I stepped out on my deck and the first thing that caught my eye were these 10 foot sunflowers in the garden.  There were only two of them, but the diameter of each head had to be over a foot long.  It was too bad that I came so late in the summer as most of the petals had already fallen off and the seeds had been eaten by birds.  And my dad had already torn up the rest of the garden, save for a couple of tomato plants.  Doesn’t he know his daughter wants to photograph everything?  And that she doesn’t ever even see gardens anymore??  You can certainly take the girl out of the country, but I guess there will always be a little country left in her.

When I took this photo outside of a Buddhist temple in Vinegar Hill, I had no idea what significance these cloths held until I posted this photo on Flickr and someone left a comment saying they are Tibetan prayer flags.  Naturally that led me to looking it up on Wikipedia and now I know all about Buddhist prayer flags.  Textbooks may be a dying breed; you really can get any information on the beautiful thing that is the Internet.

What I love about Buddhism is that prayer is not directed toward gods or any specific divine figure.  These flags, in their varying colors, represent the five elements and are meant “to promote peace, compassion, strength, and wisdom.”  The focus is on worldly qualities that any mortal figure can aspire to understand and acquire.

Buddhism also embraces change and acknowledges that life is an ongoing cycle.  This is something that is hard for most of us to recognize as we get stuck in the same routine of our life and become comfortable within it.  I know I certainly feel a little too cozy in my world sometimes.  And though it’s difficult, that’s when I usually dive off of a metaphorical to cliff to see what else is out there.  Oftentimes, it’s totally worth it.

It’s how I feel sometimes.  When I catch it, I take a big breath and tell myself to relax.  When I don’t, well, that’s when I head to the bar.  Both methods work in their own ways.