around home

We spent most of last week making jellies and jams and juices from apples, peaches, and a heap of grapes from a generous friend. We also 'started' school... a little unofficially because, lets face it, we had nothing together. The end of August was a sneaky little bugger. So we did a few lesson in this, cracked open a new binder for that... Then along came Tuesday with our Hunger Games special edition dvd in the mail. Wednesday was automatically declared Possible Future (If-the-World-really-goes-down-the-Tubes) Studies Day. Because, hey, we're homeschooled. And these informal days during the first week of school are kinda to make up for the fact that snow days for us mean extra school ('cause there's no escaping.)

-Gwyn

water feature

The best advice I'd ever heard given about photography was really simple: the time-honored 'think in thirds'.
 The best advice I can give as a young photographer? That I would have to say is really know your camera.

But who among us has time to actually read the manual? Who among us would actually read the manual, given the time? Not I, for certain. Oh, sure, I might give it a glance or two when I first open the box to make sure I got the lens on straight, but after that? I'm defiantly a more trial-and-error kind of learner. That being said, lets talk about shutter speed....

If you've got any sort of camera at all you have to try this. Just take an hour or two and find yourself a river or fast flowing creek and just play with all your features; ISO, aperture, manual focus, and of course shutter speed. I guarantee you'll be jumping up and down with each discovery.

Then come home with a thousand and one edits to make, and hundreds of uploads to infest your friends' Facebook home pages. So worth it.
 Ah, but speaking of a thousand-and-one edits, yesterday I realized I hadn't uploaded any photos from my camera to the computer in almost a month so.... I'll be scheduling a few posts so as not to drown you in pixels in one fell swoop of a post.

-Gwyn

I never claimed I could cook

Some people have great gifts when it comes to baking and cooking and making pretty things to eat.

 I am not one of those people.

*

If I ever do get married {excuse me while I go and laugh hysterically for a moment. [which, I might add, would be a lot easier if this suit's arms didn't tie in the back. How am I typing? with my nose.] The padded walls are nice, though.} ANYway, if I ever do get married and try a new recipe or something it won't be all "Oh, dearest! You're home! Look at this delightful creme de le creme I whipped up in my spare time!"

 No. It will probably be more like this: "Don't judge."

On this day, the recipe I tried was for moist red velvet cake. The recipe is absolutely sound, so if you'd like to give it a go you can find it here.
 Yes, the problem lies with me. It all started out pretty promising, I got all my ingredients and measuring devices out and lined up neatly on the counter. Pulled out my mum's big mixing bowl, turned up the Irish tunes, and tied my apron strings.
 It started to go pear-shaped about the time I realized my round cake pans are an inch larger than the ones called for. Well, I say to myself, an inch isn't much. and carry on greasing and flouring. This is where I usually get into trouble: Improvising & Estimating.
 Recipes, to me, are more like ideas than actual facts. Not because I'm experienced enough to do my own thing like Julia Child, but more because I have this subconscious {deranged & misplaced} hope that, whatever terrible and misbegotten things happen, somehow the outcome will be just like the picture.

*

Well, I'm always right about one part: misbegotten and terrible things do happen. After battling with dye shortages and exploding confectioner's sugar sacks, angry beaters that spewed butter and cream cheese across the walls, stove top, and myself, I got everything reined in enough to pour the pink batter and commence baking. Because I finished the frosting earlier I stuck it in the fridge while the cake baked. Or at least that's what the cake should have been doing. It took nearly 45 minutes to get it to where it wasn't sticky in the middle, and by that time I had opened and closed the oven door so often to check, that they fell and got dry on the outsides and looked like very sad red pink velvets.

 Feeling a little deflated, I must admit, I set the sad things out to cool and got out the frosting. It being chilled was not in the least spreadable, so feeling exasperated, I must admit, I shoved the works into the oven to soften. I then opened Photoshop and promptly forgot about it, resulting in the thin mush you see above.

 And that, really, is the end of my baking adventure for today. It definitely isn't the worst thing I've accomplished, but nor is it a shining success. It is simply me being eternally optimistic. Don't judge.

....Enjoy the following....

My radishes poking up at last.

We had an extraordinary thunderstorm pass through the other day, and I had fun capturing it as it formed, when it broke, and the amazing farewell it gave us. But I couldn't fit them all into this post so I rebooted my Big Sky blog because I have a lot of overflow now that I have Jack. Click here.

And speaking of rebooted blogs, I think I'm going to start writing for Bristé again, those of you that are interested.

 {To learn about Bristé and how you can read it, check out The Writing Desk page.}

Til next time,

-Gwyn

Do you take crazy in your tea?

"One lump or two?" asks the Voice Inside My Head.
"Ooh you know me, I'll take all the crazy you've got!" says Brain. "And I know I really shouldn't, but I think I can squeeze in one more slice of loony pie."

 Heaven's to Betsy, it's been a long time! I shan't bore you with the usual rot: 'I apologize for leaving you without notice! I've been so[insert a thousand more o's] busy!'
 First of all, I am quite sure you all can cope a week or two without hearing from yours truly {it might even be good for your health}. If you've found that you can't, however, and that you find yourself wondering why you even bother to go on in my absence, all unkempt hair and yesterday's tea cups; here is what I say: Get a life.
All that being said, we shall move on.

Oh what things have happened while Eldest Sister is here! So many things. Like shopping...
 Summer clothes for me. I cannot believe how hard it is to find decent jeans anymore. They're either all mangled with holes or they make your legs feel like Polish sausage. Thinking of this analogy I start to snicker at myself in that tiny little dressing room. Then I catch the reflection in the mirror of myself not-laughing while struggling to extricate myself from the ridiculous things and suddenly Getting Out of These Jeans Alive has gone to level Two. Feeling fit to burst {not helping my escape any}, I give up trying to hold the chuckles in and try and focus on getting out of these...dratted...pants! By this time I'm laughing pretty hard and not all that silently when my fingers decide they think this is funny too so they'll just take the day off and go all wobbly and useless. I imagine what my neighbors must be thinking which doesn't help my situation at all. Just when I'm beginning to think I'm going to die in this little corner of Kohl's; that they'll one day find me, my body wasted away but the skinny jeans a-size-too-small remaining, when there's a sinister knock on the door. "Are you alright, ma'am?"
 That sobers me up, right quick.
After assuring the kindly matron of the store that I am just trying to kick these wretched pants off and not in fact having a seizure, {aaaand declining her offer to help}, the pants, as though feeling they've had me suffer enough, release their hold.
 It is with triumph that I march out of the dressing rooms and fling the too-smalls on the To Put Back {aka Everyone Hated Themselves In These Things} counter.
 "There you are!" calls Mum. "Did those not work?" No, Mum, no they did not. "Well then, try these," She hands me a stack several feet high of blue. And it is in this moment that I realized something profound: I hate shopping.

We also did other things. Big things. Like planting all our gardens. This is the first year I finally got to use my kitchen garden boxes -- or raised beds might be a better term. They're 4'x12'. So that's a lot of dirt to shift to fill them, too. With a shovel. Just so you know, my arms and back survived. In fact they did more than that -- they conquered! *tribal whoop*
 I planted my boxes with cherry tomatoes, lots strawberries, peas, carrots, radishes, lettuce and other leafy roughage.
 The big garden on the hill got much of the same treatment with tomatoes, a huge patch of squashes {squashi?}, cucumbers, beans, and four rows of corn. We also got herbs and things for pots, and a lovely flower arrangement for the new barrel-halves planter things for our deck.
 Little Brother got his pumpkin patch again this year, and is already making plans for a giant pumpkin fest this Fall.

{This is LB robing up to acolyte {light the candles} at church, by the way.}

So those are some of the highlights of this month. Not so glam is that Double Stuff {the little black & white pony} foundered last week. On a scale of one to ten I'm not sure how bad he rated, but the poor little bugger could barely stump around the first few days, and his feet were on fire. Because Da was leaving for a few days...aaaand because I wanted to play vet, Stuffy became my patient. We put him on Bute right away. Bute is a NSAID, a pain killer/blood thinner. Basically Ibuprofen for horses. And that's all I really have to do: Once a day give him a bit of mash of apples and karo syrup to hide the taste of the Bute powder. And make sure he doesn't get any worse, which, as of yesterday he's doing great. He even ran around for a while.

 I did learn more about founder, though, thanks to my awesome book The Horse Doctor Is In by Brent Kelly [DVM], I highly recommend it to all you horse peoples. I love it to pieces.

 For example, geldings are much more likely to founder than mares or stallions, and ponies more than horses. So if you have a gelding pony {like ol' Stuffy} they have a saying, "There are two kinds: those that have foundered, and those that will."

 Founder is an ailment of the feet caused by too much rich pasture or feed. In fact, if your horses get into the grain barn and gorge themselves, vets say you should be more worried about founder than colic. In any case, call your vet as both can be and often are serious.

You've probably noticed by now that none of these photos follow any sort of theme either with each other or the post itself. Well, let me say this: I love my camera. I love my Jack. And we have been snapping pictures and just having the best times. I take my little Rebel everywhere.
 I've been looking for projects to do {A Day In the World: check} but so far haven't found any to my liking. Most are competitions, which are okay, but I take better pictures when I know they aren't going to be judged. So I've been turning over in my mind to just have weekly project on this blog. A theme. Something to give me direction. Anyone want to join me? I suppose I could add a link tool and it could be like a blog hop for all us camera-crazies. Si? Well, comment if you're interested and we'll see where it goes from there.

-Gwyn

A day in the world

A shout-out to all me photog friends! Have you heard? May 15 {that's tomorrow, already} is A Day In The World...day. Never heard of it? Neither had I until last month when I got the latest issue of Popular Photography; a mag I highly recommend to all those truly interested in lens-crafting, by the way.

Anyway, A Day in the World is basically this:
 Tomorrow you go out and document your day -- where you are, what you do -- to the best of you ability. Next, register at www.aday.org {I'd actually recommend signing up asap}, and upload your day in pictures [up to 10 photos]. Thousands of people around the world will be doing the same, and the results are absolutely amazing, for....

 "All images will be displayed online for you and everyone to explore. Some of them will be selected for a book, A Day In the World, to be published in October 2012, others shown in   exhibitions, either printed or digital. Every single one will be saved for future research and inspiration. The photos will never be used for commercial purposes. They will always be treated with care and respect. Should your photo be selected to feature in a book, we will try to contact you beforehand."

You can learn more about the project here.

 Should be lotsa fun!

-Gwyn

And she was singing 'Five green speckled frogs...'

Five green speckled frogs

Sitting on a hollow log

Eating the most delicious bugs

(Yum-Yum!)

One jumps into the pool

Down where it's nice and cool

Now there's four green speckled frogs

Sitting on a hollow log.....

Imagine me waltzing barefoot along a country road belting out this round at the top of my lungs {punctuated with a few 'ow!'s here and there; my feet are still soft}, camera swinging with every step at my side, and you have a pretty good idea of my yesterday evening. And while we were out, Jack and I discovered something...

It was the smell that alerted me at first... or rather it descended on me with all the grace of a tidal wave. A big wall of scent buffeting against the old sniffer. A honey-sugar smell so sweet it near turns the stomach. It could mean only one thing, so I followed my nose, and sure as the whiskers on your face...
  The chokecherry bush-tree-things are in bloom.

I ambushed My Kitty while she was napping and proceeded to annoy her with the snapping of my shutter. But we have hardly any photos of her and she really does deserve to be remembered as the best barn cat ever. She may look not-very-nice in the pictures but that's just because she's cheesed off at me. She's really quite friendly, and never scratches. {Unless you try giving her a tractor ride, to which she says "No, thank you!"}

At this point you are probably asking yourself if this whole post was just an excuse for me to post some of my latest photos.... Well, yes it was. Is. {Should that be past- or present-tense?} But not entirely, I suppose. You see, I have been experimenting with fonts for my watermarks and I can't quite decide on one. These are a few that I've pared it down to. Is there one you like best?

I've got to go now -- once again my smell-sense it tipping me off, this time that supper might be burning. I think I was supposed to take it out when the timer went off. Wondered what it was going off for at the time.

Dia,

-Gwyn

O'joy! O'rapture!

Happiness is...

+ A Canon Rebel T3 at last arriving on my doorstep. Three years of scrounging and saving all income but for church offerings. Playing grueling hours for gigs, doing odd jobs, raiding old piggy banks... and at last Jackson {just 'Jack' for short} is home. Yes, I did name it. Why Jackson? 'cause it's a Rebel. 

+ God sending a brief and refreshing rain right after Jack arrived, providing stunning first photo opportunities for me! The sky was beyond gorgeous. I snapped pictures like a maniac, delighting in the satisfactory snap of the shutters and squealing out "Jack's got a little voice!" as it dutifully endeavored to focus on each new object presented. Jack and I shall be great pals.

+ Petrichor: The smell of earth after rain.
+ My sister coming home between semesters. It's her birthdays today so, HOPPY BIFDOG! When you finally get here I will have to show you everything I've learned so far about Jack! So, be warned. I'm about as crazy happy over this camera as Little Brother is over his fish. I'll remember to restock the tea, too, before you get here, 'cause last time at Christmas we plowed through at least four boxes of that stuff. I know you are really fit and healthy running all those marathons down there in the sunny south and you want the whole fam to run a 5k while you're up here, but seriously... please don't make me. I'll be puffing like a punctured blowfish by the 1/2 mile marker.
 Aside from that and Mum nagging us kids to get trotting so we can be all primed for your arrival {Pass the Easter clearance jelly beans, would'ya}, your coming is greatly anticipated. xoxo

+ A totally spiffing couple of rides today with my Pink Horse{my Roanie} and Porkpie{The Black Pony}.  Porky could have been sweeter, but really I don't think she enjoyed being all softened up with a nice curry and then getting thrown into the real Tabasco, i.e. getting a saddle slapped on her and being generally worked into a lather. Ah, but it was good for her. We learned things.

 Roanie was her usual amazing self for me, which seems to disappoint Da, for when he used to take her out he thought her leaning toward the wrong side of the scatter-brain/dump-the-rider-and-bolt scale. I think she just doesn't at all enjoy the hackamore Da likes so well.

+ Happiness is very much the relief of finishing the piano recital alive and in one piece. After weeks and weeks of working on Farewell to Ireland, a song a grade or two higher than my playing ability, hacking and arranging it almost out of recognition in order to have it memorized by the concert date, wigging out the last couple of days, and generally wearing my fingers down to nubs on my brother's keyboard {which has earphone jacks so I could practice well past 10pm} -- at last all trials are past, for it is over. Apart from a few stumblings and the time my foot slipped off the peddle making a noise like the gates of YouKnowWhere slamming shut, it all went rather well. It was with a sigh and a grin that I stepped off the stage and back into the anonymity of the audience, to continue watching similar terror-stricken fish waltz up and do the same, likewise relieved and amazed that it had gone as well as it did and they were yet alive.

So that is happiness for today.Turns out I'm quite jovial. If jovial is in fact the word I'm looking for....

 Well, anyway...

Toodles, my good friends!

-Gwyn

I shall regale you with my exploits

Well, if it isn't our little pilgrim returned. 

Hello, everyone, it's been a million years! You didn't know that? Well, then you obviously didn't give up anything for Lent, otherwise you'd join me in the refrain. That being said, it's time to get down to the bean.

little brother & i up in the mountains of steamboat, co

Lent, I think is a time for self-examination, a sort of maintenance check. Where are the areas I need to work on?
 Lent was forty days of trials for our Savior, forty days of tests probing for weaknesses. He didn't have any, but I have several (surprise!). None of them, once revealed, really shocked me out of my shoes -- it's just the regular run-of-the-mill vices like selfishness, temper, negligence that people struggle with every day. What Lent truly revealed to me is the need to try harder not to be these things. For example, one conscious 'good work' doesn't necessarily cancel out the evil thoughts and muttered words said when the horses refuse to be put away and have the almighty gall to actually toss their heads challengingly in your direction as they sprint away.
  Don't Take It Personally has be come my mantra.
{But I'm serious, people, my horses have minds like no others. They're organizing, plotting -- call it what you will -- against yours truly. I know it.}

steamboat valley

Near the beginning of last month, the Parental Figures, LB, and I went road tripping... er, sort of.... down to Colorado for a family reunion, a distant cousin's funeral, a visit to my mum's mother, and then to Denver to send off my Uncle, two aunts, and a cousin who all had flown (?) up for the funeral. Sound exhausting? Because it was. Horribly. In the course five days we traveled over 1,500 miles, spending close to 42 hours in cramped quarters. Plus I was {food} poisoned twice. Not a very glam trip. But, good news for you readers, that is all I'm going to say about that.

my only, pitiful skyline

moon jellies

One bright spot in the halo of doom that was that trip, we had time the second day we were in Denver to stop off at the Down Town Aquarium. I've mentioned before, I think, that Little Brother is obsessed with fish? Yes, well, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven when we walked through those doors. He might actually have seen them as pearly gates of splendor, but I saw photo-ops.

This fish I named Dorian, because his mouth was agape. He followed the red light on my camera preventing the shot I wanted to get of the anemone (right).

I'll admit it, I'm pretty proud of this shot. I mean, straight-out-of-camera goodness -- no editing required -- what more can a Snap-Happy ask for? Plus lion fish are pretty interesting dudes, even if they are an invasive species. Oh, yes I did learn some facts at this aquarium.... promptly forgot them again, but it still counts. Or should.

black canyon, co

Returning at last to our haven on the prairie, away from those formidable mountains, scrubby mesas, and dirty cities, I had a week to recuperate before the Spring Strings concert at the University hall. Big Brother chose this time to announce that we weren't going to play the song I had picked out and had been practicing since before Christmas, because he didn't like his cello part. I blinked and tried to take this in stride. "Okay, then," I said, "What are we playing?" He handed me a sheet of music with two short slip jigs entitled Brose & Butter & Catherine Haye's Delight. They didn't look too hard, but... "So, where's my part? This is in bass clef."
  "Well, yeah. It doesn't have a violin part. But you can transpose."
  "But I can't read bass that well."
  "You could play it on viola, then."
 Panic starts to rise in me. "I can't read C clef at all."
 "Oh."
I have seven days to learn this and preform it: "Oh." Is that all you can SAY?!
 That's what I wanted to say. Scream, actually. But instead I determined right then and there that I was going to learn this song so well that if anyone messed up it wasn't going to be me. Desperately, I ran to my amazing and tremendously patient teacher and within one lesson we had sorted it out well enough that with a few {thousand} listens to the CD, I had it down pretty well. And in the end, when we stepped out into the lights, heels clicking on the pine wood stage, it went well enough. However, it has been decided that hence forth there must be a discussion before either of us inflicts a heart attack on the other.

Meet my fur-babies. I dissolve into into a puddle of mush when they come scampering up to meet me.
  I should explain that technically they don't belong to me, but rather, my sister. She hopped off to San Padre Island for a week so LB and I got to take care of these guys and her horses. Hard to say who had the better deal.

I personally didn't care for their names all that much, so I hatched a plan that we would change them before Sister got back. They're only a few months old so they're still very impressionable. Joker became Loki, and Cope -- Munchkin. Or sometimes Munchymunchymunchy!
 Both of them are from the same litter, and they are Corgi-Blue Heeler-Border Collie mixes. Munchkin has the giant Corgi feet, and slightly boxy face of a Heeler. Loki on the other hand is much more Border Collie, with small feet and a habit of ambushing her unsuspecting brother from the bushes. Both are the sweetest, cutest things..! I miss waking up at the crack of dawn and driving for twenty minutes to have them greet me like they didn't think I was ever coming back. *sigh* I think I'm going to have to sue for custody.

Well, there it is. My return post. A week late.
  Ah, well.

Other mentionables:

• Spring has definitely sprung already! Whooo!
• I scrapped TLOS again. Began outlining for the first time. Am at last happy with the opening chapter.
• {I cannot believe I'm about to say this...} I've become a fan of Doctor Who. {The later seasons, anyway.} I believe you veterans have a term for this.
• ....Aaaaand my brain just went dead.

See thee later, then.

-Gwyn