As midnight approaches on the 16th day of National Blog Posting Month, I find I’m at a loss for words. I’m likely to do something wild and unpredictable.
Well, this blog is supposed to be inspired by my camera, and I do have a photo or two in my collection. Let’s see what I can come up with.
(Pause while I pull up my photo app …)
Ahh. Okay. Fortunately, I’ve found something: a portrait in vibrant purples and golds. It shimmers. It moves. It practically jumps off the page! The model reminds me of a graceful Flamenco dancer. Her dress is as soft as a petal.
Unfortunately for you, the model is a slug. A literal slug.
Introducing: Señorita Iris Maria Ariana Slug! (I.M.A. Slug, for short)!
I told you I was likely to do something wild and unpredictable. And I did!
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This is post #16 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.
My photography critique group’s assignment last month was to submit three photos inspired by song or book titles. I’ve already shared one of those photos in my post, “Secrets Revealed” — the one called “Chelsea Morning,” which was inspired by a song by Joni Mitchell. Today I’ll show you my photo titled “Souvenirs,” inspired by the song and cd by John Prine.
If you’ve never heard of John Prine, I highly suggest you listen to him singing “Hello in There,” and then listen to Brandi Carlile sing it, too (with an amazing introduction by Stephen Colbert). Don’t be put off by Prine’s voice, which I’ll admit isn’t the best. It’s his honest, down-to-earth persona and absolutely devastating lyrics that get me.
Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about him:
John Edward Prine … was an American singer-songwriter of country-folk music. He was active as a composer, recording artist, live performer, and occasional actor from the early 1970s until his death. He was known for an often humorous style of original music that has elements of protest and social commentary.
… Widely cited as one of the most influential songwriters of his generation, Prine was known for humorous lyrics about love, life, and current events, as well as serious songs with social commentary and songs that recollect sometimes melancholy tales from his life.”
Wikipedia, Nov. 9, 2022
Sadly, I never got to see him perform live. He passed away from COVID-19 on April 7, 2020. But before he died, I’d listened to his “Souvenirs” cd many times. I’d sung along to it in the car so often that I’d memorized all of the lyrics and most of the little inflections in his voice.
I decided to use the song, “Souvenirs,” for my photo assignment. I knew I had a stash of memorabilia in my guest room closet (I’d recently been in there looking for something), so I went back in and retrieved a handful of ticket stubs. Here are just a few of them:
These ticket stubs really brought back some good memories. For example:
The Kinks at Melody Fair, 1995
I remember Ray Davies entering the stage wrapped in a British flag, and the excitement of hearing him and, I believe, his brother Dave, performing all their greatest hits from the 60s. I particularly remember his energy. And now, every time I listen to “The Kinks Choral Collection,” an album of Kinks songs Ray sings with a symphonic orchestra and full chorus of backup singers, I feel that energy.
No, not that kind of chorus.
It’s this kind of chorus:
And, believe it or not, they blow the roof off of “All Day and All of the Night” and “You Really Got Me.”
Rent, Nederlander Theatre, NYC Theater District, May 27, 2001
In 2001, my daughters (ages 17 and 21 at the time) and I took an all-girls vacation to New York City. I’m not from the BIG city, so it’s always a thrill for me to go there. We had fun and saw lots of Big Yellow Taxis, the kind Joni Mitchell wrote about.
It was my 17-year-old who suggested we see the musical “Rent,” and we managed to nab cheap tickets that very day. The production was great. My favorite song was “Seasons of Love” (“525,600 Minutes”). Seeing “Rent” had a major impact on my daughter’s decision to become a social worker, which she still is to this day.
In the next installment of “Souvenirs,” I’ll share more memories jarred loose by seeing these ticket stubs. Which ones do you want to hear about next?
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This is post #9 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.
In my Nov. 2 post, Secrets Revealed!, I shared the story of how I came to write a little ditty called “Home Alone.” Today, I’d like to talk about another song I’ve written for my new songwriting club.
Our prompt for this song was “inspiration.” We were supposed to try and write songs having to do with a quote that means something to us. I bent the rules a bit and used the title of one of my photos for inspiration. Here’s the photo, which also can be seen in my Nov. 1 post:
The stillness and vulnerability of the trees, and the way they seemed to be listening to and supporting each other, made me want to write something quiet and reflective to support them, something that would say “I hear you.” I grabbed my guitar and played one of my favorite chords, A-major-seventh (Amaj7). Here’s a photo of an Amaj7 chord that I found online. It’s one of the easier chords to make!
Photo by sweetlouise at pixabay.com
Major chords, or major triads, are often described as happy. The notes are bright and positive-sounding. Minor chords can be described as sad. The second note of the triad (third note of the scale) is dropped by a half-step (one fret on the guitar). For some reason, this brings out sad emotions. But major SEVENTH chords are really different. They add an unexpected fourth note – a half-step below the octave – and the result is a little bit dissonant and melancholy, but at the same time warm, sweet, and hopeful. At least that’s how I hear major seventh chords.
After I played that Amaj7 on the guitar, my hands drifted up the neck a bit and sort of accidentally landed on the strings in places that, when strummed, sounded good to my ear. Turns out it was a chord called Cadd9. (I had to look it up.)
My new song, “Listen to the Trees,” ended up with ten different chords altogether, and it all started with that Amaj7. It has a bossa nova beat which makes me think of the great Brazilian jazz composer Antonio Carlos Jobim, who used a lot of major seventh chords in his own songs.
Here are the lyrics to my song:
LISTEN TO THE TREES
Whispers in the forest, carried on a breeze
hear the quiet chorus of the trees
branches are bending, roots move underground
messages that barely make a sound.
Telling their troubles, each in their own way
helping each other through the day
around them only silence, actions too few –
and the trees, they know this is true.
Take the time to listen, listen to the trees
know what they are saying, get down on our knees
tell them we hear them, do what they need
and give a word of thanks to the trees.
Inhale the essence of treasures we can lose
be mindful of the things we choose
learn nature’s lessons from branches above
wrap our arms around the ones we love.
I’ll try to record it and post a link, if I can remember how to use Garage Band. That could take me until next November, though!
Have you ever written a song, poem, or story about trees? Post a link in the comments below if you have!
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This is post #5 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.
Featured image at top of post by Gordon Johnson at pixabay.com
My sister Lisa recently suggested I join her songwriting club. The group is given a prompt and then meets once a month to perform their new songs for each other (followed by polite applause and short critiques). Even though I get nervous performing in public, I decided to give it a whirl.
What’s the worst that can happen, I asked myself. I’ll be on Zoom, and if I can tell by their faces that my song really sucks, I’ll just mute myself and blame it on my computer!
This month’s prompt is Home. That’s a pretty broad topic. Maybe a little too broad, I thought. And for an entire day or two, I wracked my brain trying to come up with a clever idea. I even made this list of phrases using the word “home,” hoping it would lead me somewhere:
But that list just led me in circles. In desperation, I sat down at my piano keyboard. Now, mind you, my piano skills are somewhere between beginner and advanced beginner. But sometimes my fingers accidentally land on notes that lead me to a song idea. This time, it worked.
I played a couple of simple chords, and – lo and behold – some words popped into my head. I hate to admit it, though: they were pretty dumb words. The words were:
“Since my baby left me.”
Yeah, I know, that’s been done before (in the song “Heartbreak Hotel”). But what good is a good song lyric if you can’t steal it, I asked myself.
Just so I wouldn’t be sued by the estate of Thomas Durden, who wrote Heartbreak Hotel, I decided to give my song a more positive twist. Somehow, I’d turn heartbreak into happiness.
Writing a song about heartbreak turned on its head was difficult. The struggle was real, as these pictures will demonstrate:
In the end, I DID manage to come up with something positive, and, I think, positively funny. Here’s what I’ve got so far for my new song, “Home Alone”:
So now you know a few of my songwriting secrets, and also what happened “since my baby left me.”
P.S. The song above is a work of FICTION. My baby didn’t leave me, and I don’t like being home alone!
This is post #3 in this year’s #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
Welcome back for the fifth and final installment of “Lucky to Live in the ROC.” After Part 4‘s mad-dash adventures in pizza tasting, coffee drinking, and mural gazing, I’ll bet you’re ready for a nice relaxing drive through the autumn hills of upstate New York.
But first, a note: November is National Blog Post Month (#NaBloPoMo), when dedicated bloggers everywhere try to post a little something every day. Throughout the month, I’ll be writing daily posts until I run out of ideas – which could be tomorrow. 🙂 Luckily, I’m part of a Facebook group (NanoPoblano) that cheers each other on by reading and commenting on each others’ posts. To read NanoPoblano posts, just join the NanoPoblano Facebook group or type NanoPoblano in the WordPress search field.
Now for those autumn hills:
Letchworth State Park
A beautiful upstate New York destination – especially in the fall – is Letchworth State Park, 40 miles south of Rochester. Due to its scenic gorge carved out by the Genesee River, the park is known as the “Grand Canyon of the East.” The photo below was taken at Inspiration Point, where you can take in the view of both Upper Falls in the distance and Middle Falls. (Lower Falls can’t be seen in this photo.) It’s just a short drive (or fairly easy round-trip hike) from one waterfall to the next, with plenty of parking areas, and even a snack bar close by. I visited the park on a Sunday, and even though it was a weekend, it wasn’t crowded at all.
After admiring the view, I turned around and looked up at the trees. They seemed to be communicating with each other (which, according to Peter Wohlleben in “The Hidden Life of Trees,” they actually do). These trees literally inspired me to go home and write a song about them. I call it “Listen to the Trees.”
Trees at Inspiration Point
Here’s a closer look at Upper Falls:
Upper Falls
The photo at the top of this post (above the title) is Middle Falls.
Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area
About 35 miles south of Rochester, you can hike through Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area and get a lovely view of Honeoye Lake, one of the eleven Finger Lakes.
Honeoye Lake
Look around and you’ll see even more to admire there: leaves, park buildings, a hornet nest (yikes!), and even a gray squirrel or two. Full disclosure: the squirrel was perched on a fence in nearby Dansville, which I visited later in the day, but somehow he jumped into this scene. I’ll forgive him for acting so squirrely.
Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area
This sure was a good year for fall colors. The hills seemed to be alive with brilliant reds, oranges, and golds, especially when the sun hit them just right. I’m glad I got outside with my camera in October, because the leaves are dropping quickly now.
Speaking of which, I have a new camera! Although the above photos were taken with my older one (a Nikon D3200, considered “entry level” among DSLR cameras), future posts will show my attempts at learning to use my new Nikon Z5 in “manual” mode. Stay tuned!
If you’d like to follow me to see how long I last in the #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
Welcome back for another installment of “Lucky to Live in the ROC,” the ongoing series in which I write about upstate New York attractions in and around Rochester. In the last episode, I promised you an epic road trip in search of the perfect pizza, and some unexpected artwork, so here goes:
The Pizza
On a recent road trip through upstate New York, I stopped in Geneseo, a quaint college town thirty miles south of Rochester, and discovered “Mama Mia’s Pizza.” The pizza was so amazing – thin and crispy, with great-tasting sauce – that I returned a few weeks later with a friend for another slice. This time, I didn’t just get great pizza, I got a great cup of coffee, too.
When I ordered my coffee, the woman behind the counter said they’d make a fresh pot. “Okay,” I replied, wondering if I was causing them too much trouble as I began to eat my pizza at a table outside. Pretty soon, a young man came out. “I’m going to make you a cup of Costa Rican coffee.” “That’s fine,” I said.” About ten minutes later, I’d finished my pizza and was wondering if I’d ever get my coffee. Suddenly, the coffee man came out with a steaming cup.
“I ran home and got some beans,” he explained. “I bought them at the Rochester Public Market, they’re great.” And he’d come back to the shop and ground them just for me. Wow. It was the BEST cup of coffee I’ve had in a long time.
I didn’t take a picture of my pizza because it disappeared too quickly, but it looked something like this:
This is NOT Mama Mia’s pizza. This image is from neciodesalida @ Pixabay.com.
And here’s a sign I saw in a Geneseo shop window.
Store owners were encouraged to put inspirational signs up during a mural festival. Keep reading to learn more about that.
The Unexpected Artwork
In 1914, Robert Frost wrote “Mending Wall,” a poem about a wall that divided his orchard from his neighbor’s forest. “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” he wrote. But in Livingston County, New York, the residents love their walls so much that, last July, they commissioned some artists to paint murals on them, and then they held the Livingston County Mural Festival to show them off.
The colorful walls are actually the sides of buildings, one for each of the nine villages in Livingston County. I hadn’t heard about the murals, but on our way home from Mama Mia’s Pizza, my friend pointed out of his window.
“Cool,” he said. “I’d like to photograph that.” We parked on Main Street and gaped at the mural for a while.
Geneseo, NY. Artist: Key Detail (Andrei Krautsou & Julia Yu-Baba)
Soon, a woman approached us. I thought she might have been the mural’s artist, eager to talk about her work. But she was just a helpful citizen who wanted to tell us all about the festival.
Like the friendly coffee man, she momentarily ran off and returned bearing a gift: a small booklet detailing everything you ever wanted to know about the festival, including maps and the painters’ names. That day, we made it our mission to visit each and every one of the Murals of Livingston County.
I know that sounds like “The Bridges of Madison County,” but please do NOT mistake this essay for that book. If you’ve ever been forced to read “The Bridges of Madison County,” or if, like me, you were just curious to see how bad it was, I’m sorry to bring it up.
But hey, who am I to judge? I just binge-watched eleven episodes of “Virgin River,” where almost every scene ends with a warm embrace and this stunning dialogue:
“I love you.” “I love you, too.”
I can’t wait for Season Five! And no, I’m not being sarcastic!
But I digress. Here are two more murals of Livingston County. I’ve actually been to four others to date (Avon, Caledonia, Leicester, and Lima), but I lost the photos! It’s the first time a memory chip has failed on me (besides the one in my brain, that is). It’s disheartening, but I can always go back and take more photos. I think the murals will be there for a while.
Dansville, NY, my birthplace! Artist: Arlin GraffNunda, NY. Artist: Matthew Mederer
Next time, I’ll post recent photos of Mother Nature’s artwork: the colorful autumn leaves I’m seeing everywhere. Stay tuned!
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Inspired by a recent post by my friend Mary (“A Bridge Too … High!”), I’ve decided to post something about bridges, too.
While Mary’s article is about a bridge in Ireland; mine is about two bridges in Italy.
And, while hers is witty and thoroughly entertaining, mine is more along the lines of “here are some photos of bridges, and here is all I can think of to say about them at the moment.” Oh well. One can’t always be witty and entertaining!
I hope you enjoy the photos, and that you’ll check out Mary’s blog as well.
Ponte Vecchio, Florence, Italy, 2017:
Ponte Vecchio (“Old Bridge”) is aptly named; it’s over 1,000 years old! (The first written record of it is from the year 996.) These days, it’s lined with shops, and tons of tourists. I just noticed that there are at least six bridges in this photo!
Gazing at this picture brings me back to the moment when I captured it. I’d just toured the nearby Uffizi Gallery. In fact, I was standing inside the gallery when I took the photo, looking down at the Arno River. It was my first trip to Italy (first time in Europe, too). I’d flown there from Tucson, Arizona with a small travel group (only eight of us). Together, in just one week, we visited several interesting and beautiful sites around Tuscany, including Florence, Pisa, San Gimignano, Lucca, and Siena.
On my last day of the trip, I took a 20-minute bus ride from the outskirts of Florence, where we were staying, into the city, all by myself, just so I could absorb some of the local culture and language on my own time. It was an amazing experience. I could barely speak a full sentence in Italian, yet the people on the bus (who barely spoke English) helped me out when I wasn’t sure which was my stop.
My day of solo museum-hopping (which included a delicious three-course lunch – meat, pasta, tiramisu, and of course vino) went by much too quickly. At about 5 p.m., after standing at the wrong bus stop for ten minutes, I discovered my error just in time to catch the last bus back to the hotel. I wasn’t the least bit nervous. It was a friendly, warm, and welcoming place, and gorgeous, too.
Ponte Sisto, Rome, Italy, 2019:
Two years after my first trip to Italy, I had the chance to go again with the same tour group. This time there were only four of us, and we were going to study Italian in Sicily for a week! After the week was up, rather than flying home directly from Sicily, two of us opted to spend two extra days in Rome. I mean, how could I possibly skip seeing Rome when I had the chance? (I LOVED Rome and hope to return some day.)
Ponte Sisto (the bridge pictured above) has a long history. From what I can gather from my online search, there was a bridge on this site in the 4th century known as Pons Aurelius. It was partially destroyed in 772 when Rome was attacked and taken over by a Lombard king, Desiderius. In 1473, Pope Sixtus IV commissioned the rebuilding of the bridge. It is now only for pedestrians and spans the Tiber River in Rome’s historic district. I didn’t realize it when I took this photo, but that’s the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica (in Vatican City) in the background!
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This isn’t the first time I’ve written about bridges. My post, “Bridges in Literature,” will bring you up to speed on the many appearances of bridges (or lack thereof?) in books, songs, and movies. Here’s a sneak peek at the photo I used in that article. It’s a bridge somewhere in southern Arizona:
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One last thought: The “featured image” at the top of this post is a blue and yellow banner in honor of Ukraine. These days, I’ve been thinking a lot about the bridges there, and about how so many thousands of innocent victims of the Russian invasion are trying to cross them to safety.
This post is dedicated to the brave people of Ukraine.
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If you haven’t already done so, please check out my brand new book, “Wordle Poems: A Poem a Day for Wordle Nerds,” on Amazon. It contains 30 original poems inspired by the daily act of Wordling. No spoilers! Reviews are greatly appreciated!
For more of my writing, visit my author page over at Bardsy, as well as my book, “Standing in the Surf,” on Amazon. It’s a photo journal about the Pacific Northwest area known as the Salish Sea, which includes Whidbey Island, Vancouver Island, Stanley Park, Butchart Gardens, and more.
Today’s date, according to the Gregorian (western) calendar, is 2/22/22. And it happens to fall on a Tuesday! How cool is that?
Even cooler is the fact that TWO people pointed out the date to me today.
A date like that happens only TWICE every century! It took me a while to come to this conclusion. I had to write it out, like this:
21st century: 1/11/2011 and 2/22/2022
20th century: 1/11/1911 and 2/22/1922
19th century: 1/11/1811 and 2/22/1822
etc.
No sooner had I written this, than I began to wonder how far back the pattern would go. When was our calendar invented, I asked myself. And so, of course, I traveled down the proverbial rabbit hole and discovered that the history of the calendar is (a) fascinating, and (b) confusing!
What I can tell you, though, is that it has to do with the cycles of the sun and the moon that ancient peoples observed. You probably already knew that, but what might be news to you is the actual very first conversations by cave people in the process of inventing the calendar, which I’ve reconstructed here for the first time:
Cave Woman to Cave Man: Hey! Come here! Stop hunt! Look at sky! Light! Dark! Light again! Dark again! I make mark on cave wall each time! Okay, you make mark, I hold baby. Let us call marks “days.” … Just do it! Me no know why! Me just like sound.
Later, Cave Man to Cave Woman: Hey! Stop cook! Look up! Yesterday moon little! Now moon bigger! Other day moon very big! Me make more marks on cave wall! Oh, okay, I hold baby, you make moon marks. You make pretty marks. You pretty. You … okay, me go sleep now.
Much later, Cave Baby to Cave Parents: Mom, Dad! Look! Moon get big every time we have this many marks on cave wall! (Holds up both hands and flashes all ten fingers three times.) Let us call this many marks “month!” … Me no know why! Me just like sound.
Much, much later, Cave Grandkid to other Cave Grandkids: Hey! Come to my cave! We have many cool marks on my cave walls! (Flashes all ten fingers 30 times.) Marks in color! Come see marks, then play games!
Outside of cave, Grandkids playing rock, rock, rock (paper and scissors not invented yet): Winner make up funny word for 300 marks on cave wall! Okay, how about … “year?” (Howls of laughter)
And now for a photo I took last summer in the Adirondacks, in honor of Two’s Day:
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If you haven’t already done so, please check out my brand new book, “Wordle Poems: A Poem a Day for Wordle Nerds,” on Amazon. It contains 30 original poems inspired by the daily act of Wordling. No spoilers! Reviews are greatly appreciated!
For more of my writing, visit my author page over at Bardsy, as well as my book, “Standing in the Surf,” on Amazon. It’s a photo journal about the Pacific Northwest area known as the Salish Sea, which includes Whidbey Island, Vancouver Island, Stanley Park, Butchart Gardens, and more.
Quick: What ancient Chinese tree is known for its reputation as a memory-enhancing supplement?
If you guessed “GINKO,” you’d be just partially right, because you misspelled it. The word is “GINKGO,” but I’ll forgive you for using only five letters, because you’ve probably been playing too much Wordle.
I’m writing about the ginkgo tree today for three reasons:
Their leaves are gorgeous.
They’ve managed to survive for thousands of years.
I have some photos of ginkgo trees to share with you.
But on a deeper level, my reasons are more complicated. As you may remember if you’ve been taking your ginkgo supplements (just kidding!), my dog Maya and I packed up and moved cross-country last year. You can read about our journey in my previous blog series, “New Latitude.” I stopped blogging temporarily, but now that I’m all settled in, I want to get back to my mission: writing stories inspired by my camera.
Yesterday, I uploaded 24 new photos, and I’ll be writing about each one, starting with GINKGO LEAVES:
And now for some Fascinating Facts about the Ginkgo tree:
Its scientific name is Ginkgo biloba.
It’s native to China.
Although its natural range is a small area of China, it has been cultivated in other parts of the world. (My photos were taken at Highland Park in Rochester, New York.)
Fossils in the Ginkgo genus date back to the Middle Jurassic period (about 170 million years ago). It was cultivated early in human history.
Its DNA genome is about three times as large as our human genome, which is thought to be why the ginkgo tree has many natural defenses against bacteria and chemicals. In fact, it’s so resistant to environmental assaults that six specimens growing in close proximity to the 1945 atomic blast at Hiroshima, Japan survived and continued to grow as healthy plants. They are still alive today.
According to an article by the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, its use as a dietary supplement for the treatment of various diseases is mixed, and more study is needed.
It originally was two separate Japanese words pronounced “gin kyo.” Its current spelling dates back to a probable spelling error by a German, Engelbert Kaempfer.
It can grow to over 100 feet tall.
It’s considered a “living fossil.” Some living specimens are reported to be over 2,500 years old.
The ginkgo leaf is the symbol of Tokyo.
I’m glad I thought to take pictures of those pretty ginkgo leaves in Highland Park last summer. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been so inspired to learn more about this admirable tree. I’d love to read about what inspires you. Please leave a note in the Comments section if you’re so inclined.
Before I go, I just want to say it’s (gink)GOOD to be back!
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If you haven’t already done so, please check out my brand new book, “Wordle Poems: A Poem a Day for Wordle Nerds,” on Amazon. It contains 30 original poems inspired by the daily act of Wordling. No spoilers! Reviews are greatly appreciated!
For more of my writing, visit my author page over at Bardsy, as well as my book, “Standing in the Surf,” on Amazon. It’s a photo journal about the Pacific Northwest area known as the Salish Sea, which includes Whidbey Island, Vancouver Island, Stanley Park, Butchart Gardens, and more.
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