Reflections on the swans' pond

Reflections of a nesting swan and swimming Canada Goose on a private pond near Toronto, Ontario. I took this photo in spring, 2010, during my solo trip to the east coast of Canada on Via Rail.

The swans also share their pond with a duck family, seen here swim training.

© Photos by Kay Davies

Posted for

Weekend Reflections

hosted by James in California.

See other reflections found by other bloggers, by clicking

HERE!

Magpie Tales 76: it's wrong

Photo by Skip Hunt
provided by Magpie Tales

When artist Mettla Maguire was commissioned by the mayor to create a piece of art to decorate the bare brick wall of the town hall, she knew exactly what she wanted. She used two different kinds of metal for the giant sunflower, and mounted it on the side of the town hall with a backing of blue metal roofing.

Soon, however, she was embarrassed, and eventually she was absolutely mortified. Instead of the petals turning yellow-orange as she had expected, the heart of the sunflower rusted, while the petals showed signs of turning black like sunflower seeds.

One night, thinking of the failure of her pièce de résistance, she drove to the town hall, making sure no one was around. She got out of her car carefully, quietly, and walked up to her sculpture on tiptoe. She grabbed one of the "petals" on the left of the flower and pulled on it. Suddenly, a loud alarm rang right in her ear and, as she stood there, frozen in shock, a police car drove up.

Now Mettla found herself on the other side of the town hall, in one of the two small jail cells, awaiting charges of vandalism, public mischief and assaulting a police officer. It was the latter charge that landed her in jail, but she'd had to fight back. "It's wrong!" she screamed as Constable Casey told her she would be facing vandalism charges. "It's so wrong! It's all wrong!" she repeated as she pushed him away from her.

"You're right, lady," said the newly-hired constable. "It's wrong to push a police officer head first into a rusty old windmill. I don't know why they had it rigged with an alarm, but that's not my problem."

Posted for  Magpie Tales  hosted

every week by Willow.

To see how other writer-bloggers interpreted the photo, please click

HERE!

Book Blurb Friday: Blue Eyes Crying

The blue eyes haunted Michael wherever he went. He’d close his own eyes, just to rest them, and her eyes would be there, boring bluely into his soul.

How long would he have to live, how old would he have to be, before the eyes of his twin ceased to meet him wherever he went?

They had been so young when she had disappeared, only four years old, and he hardly comprehended what his father told him. “While we were out fishing, Mikey, your mother and your sister got lost.” Lost? But they were home, his mother taking care of Meka, who had a bad cough.

Policemen had come to the house, and returned a few times, but only one of them kept coming back, saying, “I won’t give up.”

Will the detective find her, or will he, too, give up?

Blue Eyes Crying by Will E. Nelson, coming soon.

150 words

Posted for Book Blurb Friday wherein

Lisa Ricard Claro, of Writing in the Buff, provides us a photo, this one taken by her talented photographer daughter Christina, and invites us to use the picture as a book cover, and “Write a book jacket blurb (150 words or less) so enticing that potential readers would feel compelled to buy the book.”

To see how this photograph inspired others to imagine a book and write a blurb for its cover, please click

HERE!

Watery Wednesday: reflecting pond or ...

This robin turns away to reflect on the existence of a pond where he's never seen one before. He must be new to our neighborhood, because our corner often floods like this after a heavy rain. We don't always get beautiful reflections in the large puddle, however, because cars and bicycles splash through it.

© Photo by Richard Schear

Posted for Watery Wednesday, hosted by

2sweetnsaxy of T. Bruce Photography.

To see what other water had other photo-bloggers reflecting, please click

HERE!

B is for bird in My World

TREE SWALLOW

Friends of mine used to have a parrot named "Beefer".
"Why did you call him Beefer? Because he's so big?" people would ask.
"No, it's B for bird," they'd reply.

Here are a few birds Dick and Lindy have met while out on their walks nearby. Well, they didn't exactly meet the turkey buzzard flying overhead, but Dick did manage to get a photo of it.

© Photos by Richard Schear    

Posted for
My
World
Tuesday
hosted by Klaus, Wren, Sandy, Sylvia, Louise and Fishing Guy
To see other worlds on our planet, please click HERE!


Posted also for
ABC  Wednesday
the alphabetical meme hosted by Mrs. Nesbitt
and her team of talented photo-bloggers.

HOUSE FINCH

To see how
the letter B
inspired
others,
please
click
HERE.

TURKEY BUZZARD

JUVENILE ROBIN

Is any group of crows called "a murder of crows" or does the designation "a murder" just apply to a group of crows sitting on a wire?
(Something my brothers and/or my husband would call "a crows line".)

BLUEJAY IN OUR ORNAMENTAL CRABAPPLE TREE, LATE WINTER

REDWING BLACKBIRD

WAXWING FLOCK, LATE WINTER

After leaving this little fella filed as "mystery bird" for a long time, I finally did some online research and I now think he is probably a juvenile yellow warbler. I've posted him here in case anyone in southern Alberta recognizes him as something different.

© Photos by Richard Schear 

Mellow yellow hearts in flowers

I love the yellow hearts of the flowers in my garden. While one or two of my Explorer Roses (above) were still looking halfway presentable, and my Mock Orange bush (below) was still in bloom, I dragged Dick and his camera outside to take some photos for me. I wish you could smell my mock orange. It is almost as beautiful as the perfume of a real orange blossom. Wonderful!

 Posted for Mellow Yellow Monday, hosted

each week by Drowsey Monkey.

To see other mellow yellows from around the world, please click

HERE!

© Photos by Richard Schear    

Magpie 75: Cycles Sirius

“The entire dix-septième arrondissement, Pierre?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Including Place de Clichy?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“And Avenue des Ternes?”

“Yes, Papa. That’s why I really need new clothes...”

“New clothes for such a job?”

“Yes, Papa. The right shorts, and shoes, and...”

“Shorts? You would wear shorts for a job?”

“Yes, Papa. Everyone does now, and...”
“Pah! The old “everyone does” excuse. I’ve heard that a thousand times from your older sisters but I never thought I’d hear it from you.”

“I’ll do the job well, Papa, but...”

“Oh, yes, I’ve no doubt you’ll do the job well. You’re your father’s son, after all, while your sisters take after their mother. Frivolous, all three of them, but I never thought I’d hear you, my only son, being frivolous. Shorts! And new shoes! Your sisters can talk of nothing but shoes! Ugly things, those shoes they want to buy, and I don’t know how they walk on them. They’ll break their ankles, and then I’ll have six broken ankles with which to deal, and your mother will have to wait on those useless girls hand and foot. Heh heh, hand and foot, for shoes. That’s funny. But new shoes are not funny. I hope you never break any of your bones, Pierre. I hope you don’t want shoes with high heels, Pierre.”

“No, Papa, high heels would never do, but...”

“But what, Pierre? You keep saying “and” and you keep saying “but” but you never tell me what it is you want to say!”

“Yes, Papa. If I’m going to deliver newspapers, I really must have a new bicycle, seriously, Papa.”

Posted by Magpie Tales, hosted by Willow.

Each week, Willow posts a photo to inspire writer-bloggers to write a poem or short vignette, of their own choice, based on what they see.  This is my submission for Magpie 75.

To see how others used the "Cycles Sirius" photo to challenge their muses, please click

HERE!