Kicking the sticks

Is it -- is it working? Yes? Ha! *happy dance*

This, my friends, may look like one of my average photos, but I tell you it's not!
 "How?" you ask, rolling your eyes upward a little even. {"Besides the watermark. That might be new."}
 Well, once upon a time - last week to be exact - I was relaxing on a dreary afternoon day, enjoying a cup of lemon-ginger tea {well, not really. Turns out I don't like lemon-ginger.} while browsing the vast Interwebs. Grown bored with that, I decided to check my email before signing off for the day. When lo, I had received a missive from Picnik, my favorite and frequently used online photo editor warning me of its imminent closure on April the 19th! Shock and horror! The scum Google has bought them out and reduced them to an app on Google+. Disgusted at having the rug pulled out from under me {Or having the bomb dropped, if you like} in such a manner, I vowed right then and there to bite the bullet and learn Photoshop.
 I had always planned to learn the ins and outs of Photoshop photo editing, but as long as Picnik preformed as I wanted it to, I never tried that hard. Well, my crutch is being taken away so I might do well to learn to walk before it is. As this photo proves, I've already got some of the basics; contrast, cropping, text, hue, saturation, etc.

So with Photoshop 4 Dummies in one hand and camera in the other, I must bid you all good night.

-Gwyn

p.s. I am planning a post featuring animals, hay, and ice soon. Sound interesting? It may well be. So keep your ears pricked.

The horns of elfland

"Yes, I know what you mean," said Tom. "That's why I threw a stick in Dozmary Pool. I knew it was a silly thing to do. But I didn't want to just imagine the Lady of the Lake; I wanted to enter the story myself. There's a kind of yearning that comes over you that is also an ache. It's as if you've found the gate to Eden, but you're not allowed to go in."
    "That is it precisely!" boomed Lewis enthusiastically. I've been having that experience ever since I was a child. I call it 'Sweet Desire', or sometimes just 'Joy'. It's an ache for the infinite, a sense of some lost paradise calling out to us. Sometimes I hear the horns of 'elfland' in the call of birds flying overhead. Sometimes it can just be a phrase in a book -- 'the well at the world's end'."
  "Don't those experiences make more sense if you think of them as a kind of homesickness for Heaven? As Augustine said, 'Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.' If the Christian view is right, we are all exiles from paradise."

Excerpt from David C. Downing's Looking for the King

Whimsy

whimsy |ˈ(h)wimzē|(also whimsey )noun ( pl. whimsies or whimseys )playfully quaint or fanciful behavior or humor• a whim.• a thing that is fanciful or odd: the stone carvings and whimsies.

+ Cool
- The fact that I'm only 50buckaroos away from photography bliss - le Canon T3
- Learning French phrases like je ris de vous {I laugh at you} and vous chèvre {you goat}. I'm excited to use them in some public place :)
- Endeavoring to learn viola. That's right. I'm willingly taking temporary leave of violin {lessons} and taking up viola.
- Impressing my violin teacher yesterday with my awesome shifting and transposing skills {ha}
- Finding Ken Burns' Civil War documentary on Netflix
- Drawing a semi-amazing Sherlock cartoon tattoo on myself. Ah, the sadness when it washed away!

+ Between
- Wishing I could time travel. Or just fall into books. That would be great, too.
- Starting another story. Mid-19th century farmstead this time. Largely inspired by my infatuation with the Civil War era.

+ Not so cool
- Me. Not writing. The shame.
- This weather. It's seriously a million degrees below zero with a major wind factor.
- Having to pick through moldy hay while freezing in said weather.
- Walmart's people-goers. I don't care how punk or emo or whatever-the-heck you are - leggings are not pants.
- Grandma drivers. Once you reach a certain age road laws must no longer apply.
- Shyanne being a cow; rearing and bucking and the like. I'd thought she'd grown out of it by now. I mean, she's 17!

all pictures via Pinterest.com

Psalm 8

Psalm 8 has always had a special place when it comes to my list of very-best-favorite verses; ever since first I read it alone in the empty sanctuary before service in my little church. Perhaps it is because I have a curious nature and it voices one of the questions I ponder most: Why?
 What can He possibly see in Mankind worth sending His only Son to die for us? Certainly not because of anything we have ever done.
  It is, I think, a question to which there is no humanly comprehensible answer. But that doesn't stop me from wondering.

 Lord, our Lord, 

   how majestic is your name in all the earth!

   You have set your glory 

   in the heavens. 

 Through the praise of children and infants 

   you have established a stronghold against your enemies, 

   to silence the foe and the avenger. 

 When I consider your heavens, 

   the work of your fingers, 

the moon and the stars, 

   which you have set in place, 

what is mankind that you are mindful of them, 

   human beings that you care for them?

 You have made them a little lower than the angels

   and crowned them with glory and honor. 

 You made them rulers over the works of your hands; 

   you put everything under their feet: 

 all flocks and herds, 

   and the animals of the wild, 

 the birds in the sky, 

   and the fish in the sea, 

   all that swim the paths of the seas.

  Lord, our Lord, 

   how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Makes you think, doesn't it?

-Gwyn