Category Archives: Photography

The garden of Dr. Evil

Aunt Jacquie’s house is wonderful, unique, thoughtfully decorated. We’ve already talked about her elegant but unloungeworthy living room, and we will be doing a tour of the secret staircase and castle wonderland that is the attic, but today I wanted to revel with y’all in her garden.

Here’s the front of the house with its lush green grass and hosts of plants.

The front of the yard has this marvellous old tree . . .

. . . where aunt Jacquie has thoughtfully installed a little door for the gnomes to go in and out. This will go a long way in improving the crumbling state of human/gnome relations, I’m sure.

But that’s just the beginning of the garden dynasty she is building–let’s go around to the back of the house:

The patio area is brand new, and was the perfect setting for a grilling post, manned by Martin for approximately 12 hours straight.

I dub thee Martin of the Grilled Bacon.

The patio area is also perfect for toenail painting (and the refurbishing of waning pedicures):

And adult conversation under the shade of the umbrella.

Do you remember that time (in your early days on this planet) when adult conversation was a mystery? Why would anyone just want to sit around and talk all day? I would ask myself. Surely there were more interesting things to do–like making paperdolls. Or going swimming. Or jumping over towels. Or pretending that the grass is a pit of quicksand, and you have walk along its edge in perfect balance and not set a single toe on it–or else you’ll fall in and be swallowed whole.

As you can see, the patio is not the end of the back yard.

There is an expanse of open space in which any children at hand can completely exhaust themselves running around.

Go Snugs go!

The adults can also migrate to the shade under the tree and continue their boring conversational endeavors.

While the kids were blowing bubbles, my cousin Eleanor and her friend Summer chatted away on some blankets.

I don’t have any landscaping skills or any reason to do landscaping, being ferreted away in an apartment building far away from things called ‘yards’ or ‘lawns,’ but if I did have some such yard or lawn, I would certainly find inspiration in what aunt Jacquie has done with the place.

Hmmm–that was a convoluted way of saying ‘way to go aunt Jacquie!’

She has some mad skillz.

Yes, I just said ‘skillz’–and I’m not taking it back. Nope.

Let’s venture around to the side of the house, where there is another patio area nestled in.

June and aunt Jacquie did me the courtesy of posing. I think I’ll call this area the ‘breakfast nook.’ Or maybe the ‘afternoon tea nook.’ Or maybe the ‘movie star nook.’

Yes, June is looking like a movie star.

Something about those sun glasses screams ‘glamour!’ to me.

And the flowers . . . oh the flowers. Is there anything more photogenic in the world?

I mean, besides movie star June?

So I’m curious–who out there has yards? And how much design have you put into them? And do you mow your lawn with great joy or with great gloom? Or do you just hire the neighbor boy to do it?

Something about Indiana

There’s just something about Indiana.

I can’t put it into words exactly–but it has something to do with the fields and the sky, the crumbling barns that line the roads, the McDonalds perched right on the edge of a cornfield. A feeling grips me as we’re driving through, watching the scattered farmhouses grow closer, loom, and then flash by. What are their lives like? I wonder. Could I live here, in the peace and quiet of the country?

These pictures move me. Not because they’re stellar pieces of photography, but because of the blue tones of the late evening light. The grass and the fences. And the silos. And the telephone wires strung across the sky, criss-crossing with the airplane trails.

Maybe I feel this way because I was born here. Came back to go to college. Fell in love here. Got married here.

I can do the East coast, and spent three happy but hard years in Newark, Delaware. I loved visiting the West coast and tramping about rainy Seattle. I love my surrogate home country of Spain, and cried the last time I saw its dry landscape rise up under me as the plane landed. And I adored my time studying abroad in Paris, with whole days spent wandering through its streets, half-lost but completely unconcerned, knowing that I would stumble across a Metro stop at some point.

But Midwestern America . . . it has me by the heartstrings.

I don’t know what the future holds, and I’ve learned that I can be happy anywhere–but I do know that this landscape stirs my heart and always will.