"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Ten Days to Christmas: Peace in the Village

From “The Story of the Goblins Who Stole a Sexton” in A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Writings by Charles Dickens:

“On the hill-side beyond the shapelessly-diffused town, and in the quiet keeping of the trees that gird the village-steeple, remembrances are cut in stone, planted in common flowers; growing in grass, entwined with lowly brambles around many a mound of earth. In town and village, there are doors and windows closed against the weather, there are flaming logs heaped high, there are joyful faces, there is healthy music of voices….

“Be all ungentleness and harm excluded from the temples of the Household Gods, but be those remembrances admitted with tender encouragement! They are of the time and all its comforting and peaceful reassurances; and of the history that reunited even upon earth the living and the dead; and of the broad beneficence and goodness that too many men have tried to tear to narrow shreds.”

From “Duel in the Snow, or Red Ryder Nails the Cleveland Street Kid” in A Christmas Story by Jean Shepherd

“Early December saw the first of the great blizzards of that year. The wind howling down out of the Canadian wilds a few hundred miles to the north had screamed over frozen Lake Michigan and hit Hohman, laying on the town great drifts of snow and long, story-high icicles, and subzero temperatures where the air cracked and sang. Streetcar wires creaked under caked ice and kids plodded to school through forty-five-mile-an-hour gales, tilting forward like tiny furred radiator ornaments, moving stiffly over the barren, clattering ground.

“Preparing to go to school was about like getting ready for extended Deep-Sea Diving. Longjohns, corduroy knickers, checkered flannel Lumberjack shirt, four sweaters, fleece-lined leatherette sheepskin coat, helmet, goggles, mittens with leatherette gauntlets and a large red star with an Indian Chief’s face in the middle, three pair of sox, high-tops, overshoes, and a sixteen-foot scarf wound spirally from left to right until only the faint glint of two eyes peering out of a mound of moving clothing told you that a kid was in the neighborhood….

“Downtown Hohman was prepared for its yearly bacchanalia of peace on earth and good will to men. Across Hohman Avenue and State Street, the gloomy main thoroughfares — drifted with snow that had lain for months and would remain until well into Spring, ice encrusted, frozen drifts along the curbs — were strung strands of green and red Christmas bulbs, and banners that snapped and cracked in the gale. From the streetlights hung plastic ivy wreaths surrounding three-dimensional Santa Claus faces.”


Ho! Ho! Hello!

If you decorate for the holidays, you’ve likely had this experience: After extracting the packed-up boxes of Christmas globbles from the attic or closet you squoze them into ten or eleven months ago, you begin to open them and exclaim, over and over again: “Oh, I forgot about THESE!” In case you didn’t know, this is part of the job assigned by the universe to Christmas decorations: to dim your off-season memory so many things you come across the following year seem new, and delightful, once again.

Something similar happens when I start thinking about the “Days to Christmas” series of posts I first started six years ago, originally as a way of learning more about photography by experimenting with the colors and lights of the Christmas season. Last year, I explained the project in some detail; see Ten Days to Christmas: Peace from 2023 if you’d like to read more about it and how each year I would add some new whatnots to my photography kit just to explore its use it with my Christmas project.

This year, I didn’t buy anything new specifically to shoot for Christmas; but imagine my surprise to discover how useful a variable neutral density filter (that I purchased to control bright sunlight when photographing flowers outdoors) could be when photographing Christmas decorations. You see, I often add supplemental lighting with these Christmas scenes, but that lighting also brightens up backgrounds too much and ruins the mood. With a variable ND filter, though, I can reduce the overall lighting as much as I want then expose the image accordingly; and the actual effect is to keep most of the light I need on the subject but darken the background and create that little sense of Christmas mystery. The photos in this post — the first three inspired by the peaceful but “shapelessly-diffused town” described by Dickens above — were taken with that technique, which enabled me to keep the subject bright and well-focused with accurate colors, while keeping the backgrounds soft and shadowy.

Thanks for taking a look!




Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (3 of 3)

From “Worcester: The Canal” in Under the Cliff and Other Poems by Geoffrey Grigson:

The autumn daisies dipped in the wind
In the olive water,
Oil patches, like a marbled fly-leaf,
Turned in the wind, on the water.

A swan; and the black, elegant bridge,
Like a theorem, over
The canal and the towpath: a circle
Over an arch, by a great arch.

And a black engine on the bridge, named
As a Princess, smoking. Rusty
Galvanised over the coffin yard,
A man passing with leeks….


Hello!

This is the third of three posts with photographs of Persian (or Painted) Daisies (Tanacetum coccineum) and mums (Chrysanthemum zawadzkii). The first post — where I also wrote about the significance of mums and daisies at Victorian garden cemeteries — is Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (1 of 3); and the second post is Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (2 of 3).

Here we are on the last day of November (how did THAT happen?), right on the cusp of starting the month of curiosities and baubles, clouds of glitter, and the lights and candles we use to ward off winter darkness. For my part, I’ve engaged the services of my decorating assistant — The Small Dog — who supervised the work yesterday as I untangled the first of two strings of 900 (three sets of 300 each) lights and began shoving them into the Christmas tree. You can just barely see his head peaking around the wall in the first image, but the more I swore at the lights to encourage them to straighten out, the more interested he got!










Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (2 of 3)

From “Sensory” by Marian Harmon in The Best Poems of the 90s, edited by Caroline Sullivan and Cynthia Stevens:

Eyes to photo flights of hummingbirds
As television lions mate, Vesuvius explodes.
Eyes to read the shape of breasts that swell
And turn to milk for one as yet unborn.

Tongues to taste new kernel corn
The bite of dill,
The sweet bright mouth of love.

Ears to hear the measured paragraphs of Bach
The stamping of the tiny hooves of deer.
Unfinished words that slither into nibbled cries.

Nose that knows delight in spring verbena,
Summer phlox and autumn mums,
The perfumed sweat that rises with my touch.

Yet all those wonders fade, become as garden weeds,
Or dust on lamps
When you no longer share
The scents, the sounds, the tastes,
The beating of my wings.


Hello!

This is the second of three posts with photographs of Persian (or Painted) Daisies (Tanacetum coccineum) and mums (Chrysanthemum zawadzkii) — all in shades of pink, starting with saturated blends of pink, purple, and magenta followed by those that are more purely pink. The first post — where I also wrote about the significance of mums and daisies at Victorian garden cemeteries — is Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (1 of 3).

Thanks for taking a look!