Tag Archives: Roses

Five Photos. Five Stories. Monochrome Photos Challenge.

Several weeks ago, John at Book of Bokeh invited me to participate in the Five Day Monochrome Photos Challenge, posting one photo each day and inviting someone else to participate. Not to risk further procrastination, or posting only one image and then fluttering to something else, I decided to squeeze the five days into one.  Five different images, each with their own little story.

A Bird. You might have noticed that I’ve dedicated quite a bit of my discretionary time lately to bird photography. So there has to be a bird shot among the five. My feathered friends can be aptly represented by this fellow, a Yellow-crowned Night Heron. One early morning at the salt marsh, he almost scared me to death. I thought I was alone when he croaked really loud in a tree just above my head. When I spotted him again later, he projected an air of innocence and pragmatism. A bird has to sleep, and when woken up by an intruder, a loud croak in protest is called for. I forgave him.

yellowcrowned night heron portrait in monochrome
A Yellow-crowned Night Heron.

Back to my roots. This old barn in Finland brings me back to my roots. It’s been there as long as I can remember.  I think of my paternal grandparents when I stand in front of the now padlocked doors. They used to store all sorts of farming equipment and hay there when I was a child. And it was always an adventure to go see them working there, milking cows or feeding the horse. As a protector of quality time with my grandmother, this barn served as a cradle of wisdom and valuable insights for me.

old barn in Finland monochrome
My grandparents’ old barn.

A flower. I love roses. They always light up my day. This love story started with the white wild roses I admired in my grandparents’ garden as a child. Their fragrance and delicate beauty embodied romantic mystique to me ~ and still do.

rose in monochrome
A rose.

A black and white photo. That brings me to an old photo. It’s the only genuinely black and white analog image of these five. And obviously not a selfie. I’m about four years old, in my Sunday best attending my aunt’s wedding. I still look pretty much the same, only my shoes are bigger now and my hair is a few inches longer.

Tiny when she was really tiny.

A Beauty. And my final image is of a young giraffe.  I was privileged to meet many of them, from babies to grandparents, in my years living in Africa. This one though is Floridian and lives in Bush Gardens. He looked at me with his big eyes and made his way right into my heart. I guess we were both dreaming of Africa.

A giraffe in Bush Gardens Tampa Florida
A young giraffe in Bush Gardens.

I invite any blogging friend who is inspired by monochrome photography to participate in this challenge ~ five images in five days, or a compressed version like mine. I’m thinking of Joanne, Nancy x 3, Frank, Amy x 3, Kathy, Rob, H.J. and others. That’s a hint  😉

I hope your week is going great.

Valentine’s Flowers to You

I just wanted to say Happy Valentine’s Day to all friends and visitors! Since I cannot send flowers to all of you, I have prepared a small gallery of my digital art flowers, and a little Haiku to go with the bouquet. These flowers will reach everyone regardless of the weather and canceled flights. I hope you enjoy them!

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Friendship is a gift

Given by an open heart

Receive it with joy. 

Have a wonderful weekend everyone and stay safe!   Tiny

Remembering My Mother

Today is August 13. It’s my mother’s birthday. She would have been 82 today. I was only in my teens and she was in her thirties when she was diagnosed with a melanoma. You know, she loved the sunshine. As soon as the first warm spring days came along after the long and dark Nordic winter , she would lay in the sun on our roof terrace on her days off. And every year, without fail, she would get sun-burned. There was no SPF 45, nobody talked about the dangers of the sun. And there was no chemo therapy to talk about. So within a year from the diagnosis she was gone.  My dad, my sister and I were devastated.

I remember singing a duet in the church at her funeral. It was surreal, like I was performing at the funeral of someone we hardly knew. When I thought of her death, I just felt anger. Why would anyone need to leave so young? It was not fair. I am sure these same feelings are experienced by most people who lose loved ones at/of young age.

Although my mother’s early departure forced both me and my younger sister to grow up fast and take responsibility for our lives, it took a long time before it all really sank in for me. Even when I came home from college for a weekend, I remember expecting to find her there. But gradually, over the years,  I came to accept that her life, for some reason unknown to me, was to be a short one.

Now I think of her with love and gratitude. She had her shortcomings, like all of us, but she was a beautiful human being, an early career woman and a wonderful, loving mother. She brought us up with strong values, unwavering faith, warmth and caring.  I’m sure she’s been watching us all along from where her young spirit found its home. I know that these early experiences have contributed to how my life path has turned out. I can only hope she likes what she’s seeing.

These roses are for you dear mother,  from all of us, including your sweet great-granddaughter. Happy Birthday!

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