here are Mathias’ beautiful crows!


Donc, hier, c’était mon rendez-vous photographique hebdomadaire avec Anne-Laure: Pour l’occasion, je suis aller mitrailler le cimetière du Père Lachaise … j’y ai donc vu des oiseaux … Cette série est beaucoup moins joyeuse que celle du thème précédent (briller), je l’avoue … mais j’aime également beaucoup cette ambiance !

So, yesterday was my weekly photo-meeting with Anne-Laure: for this event, I went to a very famous cemetery in Paris (the Père Lachaise) … there I’ve taken many many pictures including pictures of flying birds … I have to admit that this set of pictures is far less happy the those I took for the last topic (to be bright = briller in French) … but in another hand, I think I really like this kind of atmosphere !

Mon choix (my choice):

Boitier: Olympus PEN E-PL2

Temps d’exposition: 1/1000 sec


View original post 12 more words

Corbeaux pour Mathias

because Mathias’ crows ( were so beautiful and made such an impression on me. These are not the gothic beauties that you find in his his photographs, just your humble BC crow (are crows ever really humble though? Perhaps practical, or pragmatic would be more apt) looking for stray french fries or a less than vigilant toddler to steal a cookie from.

Trains in Rain

As we drove home after having lunch in the Quay on Sunday, the rain came down cold and gray, interrupted only by the rhythmic back and forth of the windshield wipers. Despite the awful weather, however, I was delighted as we crawled slowly along on Dollarton Highway as it allowed me to snap a couple photos of the trains.

Wind-up Toys

These were taken at the book store, of all places. We drove into Surrey reluctantly(on account of the tired baby in the back seat), after my daughter had her rock climbing party, to drop her off at Grandma’s for a sleepover. On the way we stopped at the book store and there were these beautiful little wind-up toys in a clear plastic, tiered display. There seemed to be just about any animal or vehicle you could imagine and they were mostly a lovely pearl finish which gave them a quaint retro feel. I couldn’t help myself, I had to photograph them. So, here is the first batch of toy pictures:) (Not counting the little robot love story I put up a couple days ago)


She watched him out of the corner of her eye, impressed with the way he danced but too shy to approach him.There was something about her that he couldn’t quit put his finger on.

They danced- alone but together– through Michael Jackson’sBillie Jean“, their skin almost touching, her skirt brushing his arm when she twirled.

As the song started he mouthed the words, looking into her eyes, ” Now I’ve had the time of my life and I’ve never felt this way before…” He took her hand and she smiled radiantly.

Tragicomedia’s narrative is compelling and beautiful. I am not a big non-fiction reader, but I couldn’t stop reading this! And the pictures are haunting and mysterious. I was so moved by this post–by the imagery in the prose and the photographs–that I had to share.


It is not especially easy to find cigarette papers in India. This first became apparent in Jaipur, when I wanted to roll up a little something. I had just returned from ten days travelling around Rajasthan and my contact, Sunny, had been kind enough to donate a small rock of hashish. I crossed the street that afternoon to the local general store near my hotel, which sold cigarettes, assuming they would also sell papers. Yet, when I inquired of the man behind the counter, I was told otherwise. Baffled but by no means thrown, I walked around the corner where there were two small, free-standing booths which also sold cigarettes and chewing tobacco.

“Do you sell cigarette papers?” I asked.

“No, sir,” said the vendor. “Up the road. Near the roundabout.”

“And the other guy?” I asked, pointing to the other booth.

“No, sir. Roundabout.”

He pointed up the street.

View original post 2,499 more words

All is right in the World


I try not to make my kids the main focus of the pictures I put up on this blog but, well, Henry was just so darn cute in his little old man sweater that I couldn’t help snapping pictures as he tried to run away from me and into oncoming traffic or into the slavering jaws of some angry canine. Such an adventuresome lad! I also took  some of random strangers that I figured I’d put up for good measure….

Houses in Trees

As we drove down to Boise I kept seeing these houses along the side of the highway and they seemed so exposed, so laid open to the eyes of those traveling down the highway. And each house was like a piece of micro fiction: the toys little dots of colour on the green or brown lawns; the collections of broken down farming equipment or old cars; the trailers, leaning warmly against the houses or seemingly banished to a lonely corner of the property surrounded by poplar trees (for a relative down on their luck? For an estranged spouse? For a teenaged child needing more privacy, wanting to express their independence?).

A lot of the houses seemed to be accompanied by these beautiful trees that dwarfed the houses, sentinels guarding the vulnerable houses against the prying eyes of travelers.