Amateur macro photography of the day: Rose

Rose

Rose from my balcony

I am experimenting with my camera.  Here’s a rose from the plant I have on the balcony.  The rest of the balcony is not quite so photogenic, so it got cropped out.

I don’t know if this is actually “macro”, or just a close-up, but I used the “macro” setting on my rotten little camera so that’s what I’m calling it.

It rained last night and the day before, and that makes me almost too happy to post.  The real world calls.  I’ll be back next time it’s disgustingly sunny and I need to hide indoors.

 

Idyllic Pond Photo of the Day

I took this yesterday on my way to Gostisce Dular for some takeaway food.  I was busy working on a grant proposal so I had no time to eat there.

This is a pond, called a ribnik in Slovene.  It’s stocked with fish – riba – and you can fish there if your heart’s set on it, but I’d rather go to the restaurant next to it and let them do the scaling and gutting.  It’s operated by the Dular family, who makes some of the best wine in this country.

Ribnik

Sometimes my photos aren’t so bad after all.  Maybe some of Brendan’s advice is finally sinking in.

I am not dead

Here are some apple blossoms to celebrate.

Apple Blossoms

Experiments in macro photography

Oh, and if I should wind up missing for an extended time, I probably came home afyer 10pm and got murdered for it by my landlady.

It’s my apartment, I pay for it, but…she controls the door.  If her keys are in the lock on the inside, I can’t get my key in the lock to open it.  She knows this.  She still leaves her keys in the lock, so I have to knock on the door, and she has to come stomping out to the hall to let me in.   She opens the door to the stairway that leads up to my apartment, giving me the evil eye as she does so.  I’d show you a picture of her scowling visage, but it’s illegal to take people’s pictures without permission here.  Imagine the mask of Satan.

Scotland in the Gloaming: amazing photography site

Where has this website been all my life?

Amazing twilight photography of Scotland, surely one of the most beautiful countries on earth.

Gloaming, for those unfamiliar with the word, means twilight.  John Burnside uses it way too much in his novel A Summer of Drowning,  through which I have only plowed 1/4 of the way because it is so annoyingly slow and vague.  Gloaming is a great word, but it shouldn’t be abused.

Anyway, go visit Scotland in the Gloaming.

Seamill Ripples by Alastair Jackson

Seamill Ripples by Alastair Jackson

Primroses

Today I’ve been invited to Brezice again to visit Ozara.  They’ll be picking up trash along the road,  and I will support them in this unglamorous but environmentally friendly task.

In the meantime, I leave you with one of my recent experiments in close-up floral photography.   This one turned out fairly well in spite of my rotten little camera.

I loved primroses even before I knew what they were called.  They aren’t native to the western U.S., so when I came to Europe I had never seen them before.  The way they suddenly appear in the grass and turn it into what looks like a green and yellow Persian carpet is magical.

Primroses

Primroses a-bloom in the woods

A tree grows in Brezice

Tree in front of housing project in Brezice.  I am really busy this week, readers, so I must fob you off with my random photographs.

Tree in front of Brezice housing project

Housing projects in Brezice are not that bad

Saturday and a sewing machine

Yugoslav sewing machine

A 1960s vintage Yugoslav sewing machine called Visnja - "Cherry".

My dear blog readers, I have about 10 posts cooking on the blog stove, but none of them are ready to serve yet.

Also, my house still looks like Hurricane M just hit it, and I have to do something about that despite the brain fog and fatigue left over from the intense rottenness of this week.

Speaking of rottenness, there is something decaying in the back of my refrigerator that really deserves a decent burial.

So I leave you with this vintage Yugoslav sewing machine, and please tune in tomorrow for Sundays with Clyfford Still.  I will be talking about what happens when two artists marry but one is a Great Male Artist and the other one is just a woman.