dusk comes early

Dusk is falling earlier, and with it comes cooler temperatures and candles.

It's turning to a cozier time of year.

Joining Mary's Little Red House for Monday Mosaics.

mantle for fall

 It's time for a fall mantle. It's starting to feel a bit like fall outside; 

I even found myself looking for a sweater!

I seemed to find brassy-looking things for the mantle, including a 100+ year-old family heirloom. 

My challenge is always the brick wall behind the mantle which absorbs dark colors. 

But I decided to go with the fall tones just for awhile since I enjoy a change.

The mantle showed off a lot of silver and white over the spring and summer.

Joining the mantle "party" today at Thrifty Decor Chick.

kegs and pans

I took a trip to GW the other day. In my trunk was this amazing 60 year old roasting pan. It was a painful trip, reminding me of the time I took my dad's clothes to GW.  I am impossibly sentimental and all I could think about were the many, many turkeys my mom had made in that pan. I just can't keep it anymore, and probably will never make another turkey big enough to warrant keeping it. I tried to find someone of the younger generation to take it, but there was no interest. It's a true work horse and hopefully someone will see it's value and take it home to use for many more family meals. One of the things I think of when I remember my parents is the wonderful cook my mother was. She was a nurturer extraordinaire and cooking for her family was part of that. So I said goodbye to a piece of my life and tried not to look back.

I was much happier about this old nail keg. The story goes that it was my grandfather's, 

and ended up at my father's house. My dad was a builder-turned-preacher, 

but my grandfather was a builder all his life. If you were to travel around the Philadelphia 

area you would see many wonderful stone houses, banks and churches built by his company. 

So the nail keg meant a lot to me. I was delighted when my nephew's wife expressed 

interest in it. It's now an umbrella stand in her front hall!

I'm struck by this attic scene: the old nail keg next to the pack n play,

used for the builder's great-great grandchildren.

the color of food

Doesn't color enhance our enjoyment of food?

I can see why dogs don't mind dog food. 

Don't they see in black and white?

Please visit Mary's Little Red House to see more Mosaics!

sharp pencils

My sister wrote this at the end of a chatty email the other day.

 I decided to make her my guest blogger today! She wrote:

"I meant to write you a 'blog thought' which if I was a blogger I would write 

about. It has to do with the back-to-school time of year, and in particular 

school supplies for sale at a big box store. It always brings a surge of feelings, 

and quite a mix of them, actually.  The sight of them all lined up and 

sparkling new brings back the excitement/anticipation/anxiety of starting a

 new school year as a kid, and it reminds me of my kids' schooling, 

our years of homeschooling, etc.  

"Also I flat out love office/school supplies, and remember the fresh feeling 

of a new notebook, new pencils, new folders at the beginning of a new year. 

I am drawn in to look at the school supply aisles. And of course that reminds 

me of getting a couple--not many, of course--new outfits, and perhaps 

making some new clothes in the extra bedroom upstairs where we 

had the sewing machine. [And going to 

buy our one new pair of sturdy shoes for the new year of school.]

"And, overall, a feeling of "wistful" relief that none of this concerns me anymore!  

going home notecards

 It's almost a year ago that my sister and I traveled back to the hometown of our childhood. 

 We went to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the church our father pastored for 20 of those 100 years. 

 It was a time we will never forget, rich with new memories stamped upon old ones.

And it seemed appropriate to make this month's notecards remembering that special time.

Please visit Vee's blog to see other notecards in this fun monthly "party."

framed

Windows and doors are my favorite things to photograph. For me they are sort of framed anticipation, either looking in or looking out . . . .  Or even a pretty frame in itself.  This amazing door is in a leprosarium built-to-last in the 1920s. The building stands strong though a little paint

 is needed. It now appears to be mainly used for storage as part of a larger 

TB and leprosy (Hanson's Disease) center (Addis Ababa, Ethiopia).

I used several cameras while I was photographing our time in Addis Ababa. Ethiopia so 

I can't tell you what camera this was, but most likely my little Canon "point and shoot." 

It was the rainy season so we rarely saw the sun. When you see a window up high you love, 

don't you wish you had some scaffolding for a moment? This window is over the door shown above.

From a little bathroom in the guest house where we stayed, looking out 

on the tin roof, shanty houses, and sky scrapers.

I loved all the wood in this guest house built in 1950, and this door in particular,

 opening out to a pretty yard filled with flowers.

A door opens to a whole new world inside, or closes it to the world outside.

And you never know what all you'll catch in a photo as you "reflect" on it

later. In this case you can see the tall Gardener reflected in conversation.

A beautiful church in Addis Ababa, with wood imported from New Zealand.

Linking with Donna's Personal Photo Challenge today!

skypartee

All of us gathered around the table on this particular morning have been friends for many years ... from back in the days when our children were young. As the years went by and the children left our nests, we started gathering to celebrate our birthdays, mostly with tea or lunch in our homes. We've missed our friend who moved to Germany, though we often Skype with her for our book clubs.

I had the idea to give her a virtual birthday party. Why not? We gathered for tea as we always do, and she "sat" at the head of the table. I had asked her husband to be sure she was there, and at least the birthday part of it was a surprise.

It worked so well. We almost forgot B. wasn't really right at the table with us.

 These pictures look like we are having a "working tea," 

with papers and books spread around. Well indeed we were, of sorts. 

For we each brought a "virtual" gift to give her.

And words to share to encourage her.

I "gave" her a children's book for her to read to her grandchildren when she skypes with them. 

For when I visited her this summer, I was so taken by a chest in her living room where she has

toys for her little granddaughters and takes them out "to play" when they Skype. 

She even showed us where she has little mice hiding 

around her house that her grands look for when they "visit."

After we finished the gifts she took us on a tour of their flat. I was a little nervous 

when she held her computer outside the window to show us the busy street. 

As icing on the non-existent cake, we enjoyed blueberry tea and jam fresh 

from Lydia Grace's trip to visit lighthouses in Maine and thereabouts. 

A fine morning indeed!

to market, to market

The vibrancy and color of the markets in Germany and France this summer were a treat for the eyes!

Visit Mary's Little Red House for other Monday Mosaics!

almost stillness

A quiet morning, peeking through some trees down

 at the lake and a solitary motorboat. 

Almost stillness.

Linking to Katie's Photo Friday.

my views

Our friends moved to Europe a few years ago and B. would frequently tell me about the "Podso views" she saw everywhere and that we should hurry up and come visit. These were scenes she could imagine me photographing. We did go see B. and B. this summer on our way home from Africa, and I saw "my views." And yes, I took too many pictures.

This one window I find so interesting close up, and it is a house next to where B. and B. used to live. B. took me to their former residence so I could get some pictures of what was her "classic" Podso "view."

And below are a few more "Podso views." No words needed.

And last (for now!) but not least: