Colours

As we are about to don our winter whites,  the colours of my world  are calling. 

They beg to be remembered, and so they shall be.

Midnight  Grackle Blue

Meets Blueberry Thrill...

Powderpuff melon... 

Beckons Cinammon Poulet... 

 Bright Shiny Spring

 Greets the Last Apple Red...

And Bountiful Pumpkin adds spice

To White Winter Trails.

These are my colours.

What colour are you?

It's Looking Up

This is my busiest week of the year, and today we're  putting the final touches on the site for the annual summer music festival. It's a crazy, hectic, detail day looking for what could possibly go wrong, what have we missed ,

what was forgotten, and what should we do if and in case.

In the midst of it all, I looked up and saw the silver lining.

Tonight's going to be a good night.

Filled with energy and expectations riding high...just like this little guy must have felt when he watched

and then copied his friend the Hummingbird...

There are no hard and fast rules. Whatever works, works.

Just take time to notice.

for more world views, visit http://skyley.blogspot.com/

Anticipation

Yesterday the rain fell softly on the roof, drumming gently in the sweet rhythm of spring. At one point, I walked outside, and although still a tad chilly, I could smell it.

Just faintly…an echo of last year’s warmth and a tease of tomorrow. Nudging my memory and whispering, “spring smells like this.” An earthy, wet and lush scent that wafts in slowly and surely.

It doesn’t smell like summer.

Summer is completely different. More complex. It has history in its dewdrops and dust around its edges. Summer is a lily. Strong, colourful, ribald. Sure and ripe.

It’s cared for and documented, lest we forget.

It’s eye achingly beautiful, so we won’t.

It’s urgent, and come hither. And it’s stop, don’t you dare.

It’s love me, leave me…

and I’ll be back, right behind my pale sister, Spring.
Wait for me.

Remembering Summer.

Summer is a place where the view is so lovely, it gets its own frame.

The colours are so vivid, your breath gets caught in between blue and orange,

and the blue poppies take your breath completely away.

Summer is a place where magic surrounds you.

And the sky consumes you.

Winter is not summer.

to see more magic, go to http://skyley.blogspot.com/

City Hall

Looking through some files this morning, I came across these photos of City Hall that I've taken in the past year or so...

and it occurs to me that City Hall has as many faces and moods as the people who visit it.

Visit more places by visiting

http://www.skyley.blogspot.com/

Defining Summer ...

Some things say "Summer" more than others.
Soaking up the sun on a kayak in the middle of the river is definitely
a summer thing I long to do (just like my daughter's doing in this shot)...
especially when it's 40 below, and the wind's howling and it's the middle of January!

Daisies say "Summer" too. They're so bright and cheerful, and compliant! They're pretty and perky, and bend with the breezes, and they're not overpowering, like uh... Begonias.

I never knew 'til I planted some this summer that I'm not really all that fussy about Begonias. In fact, they're too much really! They remind me of someone's old Aunty Flo, who's a little gin fizzled, her hair's awry, her lipstick is smeared, and she's about to start crying. I'd never even given Begonia's a thought before this summer but there you have it. I prefer the pert and sassy daisy! Sort of the cheerleader of flowers. Ol' Flo is just too much of a good thing, gone overboard.


The plants I really love, which deserve the Best Plants of the Garden Award, are Hostas and Ferns. I have lots of both, and they're the Dignitaries of the Sideyard. They add culture, class, texture, and subtlety (unlike a Begonia which will never win an award for tact). They appear every year, just as they are supposed to, they perform perfectly, and they're really no trouble at all. They're diplomatic, and if they were movie stars, they would be the Cary Grants and Katherine Hepburns of the plant world, you know, movie stars of my parent's era, which had more filler and less thriller.