Refuge on a Country Road

Messing about with the world's greatest point and shoot: the Canon G-11 (now G-12, but who's counting?)

Above: Low Contrast setting, which opens up the shadows, and below, Normal Setting.

The shadows on the old barns are so deep that Low Contrast works to open them up and show more detail, which I like. Especially if I ever intend to paint these scenes.
 Boy, could I see a watercolor of this scene.  Here's the Normal Contrast setting.

 And here's Low Contrast. See how the detail pops out? It lets me see what's going on in the darkest darks on the bank and barn.  So I can use both shots as reference.

                                                                               


I hold the Canon G-11 an inch or so from the rusted hinge and shoot away, marveling at the razor-sharp detail it captures. From landscapes to macro views of wood and hinges, this little workhorse does it all. And on Automatic setting, it decides when I've gone all macro on it, and adjusts accordingly. It's like there's a little brain in there.

I keep walking and shoot back at the old barn before it disappears. I won't see it bathed in such beauty for another year.

How I wish I could conjure these leaves, this sky, for today, when the clouds hang low and weepy. But we've busied ourselves readying the yard for winter birds who will help keep our spirits up when the cold clamps down. Bill built a brushpile to shelter them from the wind and snow, and we put up three more feeders and scattered corn and seed all over the yard. A little thank-you note showed up--the first fox sparrow of fall, scratching about under the brand-new brushpile!

I'm always impressed by the haunting quality of sepiatone photos. In one push of a button, we rocket back 200 years...
and the best part is when you select an effect, such as sepiatone, from the Canon G-11 menu, it shows you what your photo will look like on the screen before you take it! I think back on the days of film, when such options were in post-processing only, when everything was a crapshoot and an expensive one at that, and can only marvel. I've been set free by the digital age. At least in a photographic sense.

Here we are on Tobacco Road.

with our antique barns and little antique doggeh. For a painter, these photos are very useful--they allow me to see relative values of dark and light without the confusion of hue.

I've photographed this little sign dozens of times, with its buckshot holes and its stenciled letters.

Let's get a closeup of those holes.

So many compositions in one small area of an old tired barn. I find such freedom in composing with a camera; it is so effortless compared to composing with a pencil, which I do all day these days. But I'm whistling down the wire on my new book, counting down the paintings left to do. Imagine having almost 160 works of art to do, and finally being down in the 30's. That feels good. Almost as good as walking slowly up Dean's Fork with your best dog.

Who's your best dog?

                                                                     You, Chet Baker. You.

The Village Greenery

Come on in! The air is fine inside.


I visited a special shop in Yellow Springs, Ohio, while on my Excellent Weekend Adventure to the Native Plant conference. It's The Village Greenery, and it's in King's Court, right off the main drag of coffee shops and bakeries and jewelry/craft shops that grace Yellow Springs' tourist area. I think that when we sit around and dream of having a shop selling things we love, this would be what pops into my mind.


I like to see people self-actualizing and doing things they love. I'm drawn to people like that, and it never hurts to get a little of their magic fairy dust on you, either.

Awful MonkeyCam shot taken at arms' length of me and the affably adorable Mitch George. I took it just to show him the viewing screen you can turn backerds on the Canon G-11. Mitch used to work in an old-fashioned camera store, and when he saw the little G-11, he flashed on it and started peppering me with questions. I peppered him right back with houseplant questions. We were instant friends.

Mitch has carefully selected houseplants, beautifully presented.

The bromeliads were in a case, displayed under lights like the jewels they are, and obviously happy about it.

I stayed in a home in Yellow Springs that had the prettiest houseplants--unusual, beautifully presented. No surprise to find they were all from the same place. I resolved to track The Village Greenery down.

I walked into the store and immediately sensed the higher oxygen level, the serenity of good plants, well grown. The store is so well-lit any plant could live here for good. My tranquility was the diametric opposite of the feeling that overcomes me when entering the dark, cavernous garden zone of your typical Loew's, where all the plants are silently screaming to me to save them from a dry, dark, lingering death.

The emphasis here is on finding a plant that will fit your situation, so Mitch specializes in low-light tropical foliage plants that will beautify a home without demanding too much in return. He's careful to interview prospective plant owners about their growing conditions before recommending a plant. He says that choosing the right plant for the right situation is the secret to growing success for anyone.

This seemed like an excellent opportunity to trot out my new Canon G-11, the point and shoot that could. Even as it shines at macro shots of flowers and insects, it does an amazing job of shooting low-light interiors, with or without flash. I do not know how it does it, but everything looks more beautiful in my photos even than it does in real life--saturated colors, gorgeous lighting. Dig this:

Doesn't this look like a shop where you could spend an hour and a whole lotta money? It's a good thing I was traveling and it was very hot or I'd have loaded up the car. I saw so many of my old favorite tropicals and some new ones I lusted after. I'll definitely be back to see Mitch and his lovely little shop. If he's not careful I'll bring a folding chair and set a spell.

A magical place on a magical summer morning, whisk of broom, cicadas sawing loud in the trees overhead.