Thematic Photographic 242 - Vegetative

Consume mass quantities

Laval, QC
July 2011

About this photo: This marks the launch entry for our new Thematic theme, vegetative. Read on for more photographic fun. Because the world needs more fun.

The more I think about communal eating environments - aka buffets - the less I like them.

First, lining up, plates in hand, seems like such a silly way to gain sustenance. It makes me feel like I'm at the farm, patiently awaiting my turn at the trough.

Second, the whole everyone's-touching-the-food thing makes me want to seriously gack. I know the health department mandates sneeze shields as a form of CYA-like protection. But let's face it: no one's going to be eating anything if anyone actually uses the shields in the way they were intended. Protective overhead coverings aside, I don't even want to think where my fellow trough-dwellers' hands have been before they grab hold of the tongs. Or forget to grab hold of the tongs, as the case may be.

I'm not deluded, of course. I'm pretty sure servers in regular restaurants are just as capable of messing up the works as anyone else. Case in point: The Domino's Pizza debacle. But somehow, it seems even more icky when your potential dinner is surrounded by masses of fellow diners. A little privacy isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially when we're eating.

Your turn: Pick or take a photo that reflects this week's theme, vegetative, and post it to your blog (or website, or Facebook page or Twitter or wherever else you like to hang out.) Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it, then pop over to other participants to share in the fun. Repeat as often as you wish, as this theme will be live for the next week. For more background on how Thematic works, please click here.

Sky on fire

Twin towers
Laval, QC
July 2011
Click photo to embiggen

I wanted to end this week's Thematic exploration of the pairs theme (click here for a last-minute submission) with a bit of a twist.

Look closely at the bottom of the shot and you'll see two high-tension hydro towers. They're in every sunset shot that I take from my father-in-law's balcony, and normally I curse them for ruining the scene.

This time, however, they somehow fit the shot, giving the sky a sense of perspective and scale it otherwise wouldn't have. I guess I'll have to head back to his balcony soon for some more sunset photography - towers included.

Your turn: When a "ruined" moment ended up being anything but. Please discuss.

Fat Albert can dance

Chasing the setting sun
London, ON
June 2011

About this photo: We're winding down our Thematic pairs week. This plane has a pair of engines (sorry, I know I'm stretching it.) Feel free to share your own pair-themed vision here. New theme, vegetative, launches tonight at 7:00 p.m. Eastern.

Say hello to the Boeing 737, specifically a 737-700 flown by WestJet. Although our city's sole airport is called London International Airport, most of the traffic in and out of here is pretty forgettable: turboprops, regional jets and private aircraft. Nothing remotely approaching long haul or intercontinental. This is about as big as it gets, and even then it's a fairly rare sight.

So when this one flew overhead as I was watching the munchkins play soccer, I was almost predestined to point my lens skyward and shoot it. Because taking pictures of planes never gets old for me, and the late evening light seemed to make an otherwise routine shot look a little less so.

Oh yes, the caption. When the 737 first took to the skies in 1967, it was affectionately dubbed "Fat Albert" because it had the same narrow-body cross section as a 707 and 727 in a much shorter design. The net effect made it look kinda stubby. Fat Albert it was, and in multiple generations it's since become the world's most produced jet transport.

It's nice to know ugly ducklings grow into lovely swans even in the commercial aviation industry.

Your turn: Why are we so obsessed with looks? (Nothing like a loaded question to start the week!)

Spanning the years

Evolution of the species
Quebec City, QC
July 2011

Just over 50 years separates the Quebec Bridge (1919) on the left and the Pierre Laporte Bridge (1970) on the right. Cantilever vs. wire-cable suspension. Heavily over-engineered for the railroad age vs. elegantly balanced for the automotive one. Whatever their design philosophy and however old they are, they're both mind-blowing in their own right.

If a third bridge were to be built here today, it would be different still, likely a cable stayed box girder which further pushes the efficiency envelope and is far more representative of how stuff gets built now. I love how technology continues to rewrite the landscape as it allows us to do more with less. Or simply to lead better lives.

However you cut it, it's more than a little inspiring to stand near two diametrically different examples of the best their respective ages had to offer. You can almost feel the passage of engineering history here.

Your turn: What other things get better with time?

Two ships that pass in the...day?

Crossings
Quebec City, QC
July 2011
Click here for more Thematic pairs

I love living in the city we now call home, but if I could change anything, it would be to live in a part of the world where the surrounding waterways are significant enough to justify having ferries like these. Call me odd, but the prospect of taking a ferry to get somewhere would be seriously cool.

As I stood on the bluffs overlooking the St. Lawrence River, I wondered about the folks who rely on these floating workhorses every day. I hoped being on the water never got old for them. Because even the drudge of the daily commute should be special in its own way.

Your turn: What's your favorite way of getting around town? Why?

The plane truth

Where Diamonds are made
London, ON
June 2012

I often drive by the Diamond Aircraft facility in the east end of town, hard by London International Airport. I could just as easily take another route, but I somehow derive comfort from a quick glimpse of anything aviation-related.

This place has had a rough few years, with enough layoffs, cancelled programs and broken promises to fill the cargo hold of a large transport aircraft. After another round of job cuts a couple of months ago, the place is now barely functional, a ghost of what it once was. I feel a little twinge when I see the empty parking lot, and I wonder about the now-former employees and their families, and where they've gone and how they're doing.

The entire mess saddens me, because this is the kind of company that economies in mid-sized cities like London need. And if our civic leaders spent less time voting themselves pay raises, patting themselves on the back, fighting corruption charges or each other, maybe we'd be able to fill this assembly line again. Maybe we'd haul down our country-leading unemployment rate. Maybe we'd be able to compete against cities and regions that have already clued into the way things work in the 21st century.

One can always hope, right?

One more thing: what does this entry have to do with this week's Thematic theme, pairs? The DA20 and DA40 are a pair of aircraft. I know I'm stretching things a bit, but that's the whole point of exercise, after all. Click here to share yours.

On laughing at ourselves

"If we could all just laugh at ourselves, in hard times or good times, it would be an incredible world."
Jena Malone

Get a handle on these

Cupboard doors at dinnertime
Richmond Hill, ON
April 2013

The sun does funny things to the insides of houses, often around breakfast and dinnertime. And as it slowly slips beneath the horizon, you never really know how it'll paint the interior.

What we do know is that the effect will be temporary, so it's up to us to steal whatever snippets of time we've been given to remember the fleeting moment. The sun will indeed rise and set tomorrow, as well, but you never know if the artwork it creates then will be just like the artwork it's creating now.

Either grab the moment or risk losing it forever.

Your turn: How do you grab the moment?

On the futility of worrying

"Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength."
Corrie Ten Boom

This quote comes from a righteous human being who helped Jews escape from the Netherlands during WWII, then wrote a book, The Hiding Place, about it. I wish more of us could be like her. I wish all of us never had reason to experience what she and her family did.

These geese are not cooked

Proudly Canadian
London, ON
May 2009
Click here for more Thematic pairs

Some cities are home to tons of pigeons. Or seagulls. Or grackles. Or any other species of common, otherwise forgettable birds.

Consider London to be ground zero for Canadian Geese. If you can get past their overt nastiness - seriously, do not approach them under any circumstances, as they're decidedly un-Canadian in demeanor - and the cyclist-killing messes they leave behind (please don't ask), you end up with a fairly majestic bird that looks pretty impressive when it's way up in the sky.

I especially love when I'm walking the dog after dark, and a huge vee of geese flies overhead, barely visible in the inky black sky. I wonder where they're going, and stand in awe of these beings who, through countless generations of evolution, are innately built to work together in the sky to ensure they all make it there together.

Some of us pay lip service to the need for teamwork. These birds live it. I find that rather inspiring.

Your turn: Should we name these two?

Who's still wearing Crocs?

Gimme some sole
London, ON
May 2009
Click here to share your Thematic pairs pic

Crocs were all the rage a few years back, with kids and adults alike buying these plastic-fantastic shoes with frightening frequency.

Somehow it seemed fine when a munchkin wore them as a sort-of replacement for sandals or sneakers. On the playground, these colorful togs seemed to fit right in. I didn't feel the same way when adults started wearing them to work. I appreciate the workplace shift toward more casual dress, but this was more than a little silly.

I remember the bloom falling off the rose when the company that made them announced it was planning to close its Quebec factory and move production to a more flexible facility in Mexico. Lovely if you're a shareholder, I guess, but not so lovely if you were one of the 670 people thrown out of work.

I know that this is how globalized markets work. But that doesn't mean I think any of it is right from a longer-term, society-building, giving-back perspective. The economy doesn't seem to work that way anymore. Pity that.

Your turn: Do you look for goods that have been produced locally?

Thematic Photographic 241 - Pairs

Two of a kind
London, ON
April 2009

The scene: We were getting ready for a really lovely dinner with friends, and my wife had been cooking up a storm. True to my clumsy-husband persona, I managed to drip a couple of droplets of water onto the otherwise pristine tablecloth.

Also true to form, I ran for the camera instead of a dish towel. I figured since the water hadn't been immediately absorbed, I had a few minutes to play with the light before I needed to get on with the business of cleaning it up and setting the table.

I'm weird that way.

Your turn: Take a picture of a pair of something. Of anything, really. If it even suggests the concept of pairs, we want to see it. Post it to your blog or website, then leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Repeat through the week - because more is always better - and visit other participants to see what everyone else is up to. If you're new to the whole Thematic thing, just click here. Otherwise, enjoy the photographic ride.

Two months on...

Debbie lost her mom two months ago today.

Not a moment in any given day goes by that this stark fact doesn't dominate my existence. Loss changes everything, and forces you to reframe your entire life from this moment forward. Little things that used to define so-called normal for you and your family - from calls just before dinner to green jello waiting for the kids when we arrived for a visit to quick recipe checks from the kitchen - are suddenly, irrevocably no longer there.

You may find other places to get your answers - look online for that recipe, for example, or teach the kids to make their own jello - but it's never the same, and that empty space never quite fills in.

I don't have answers to any of this. I know this is how life is supposed to work, that adapting to loss is part of the price we pay for having been gifted with life in the first place. I get it. Still, that doesn't mean I understand it any better, or that I'm supposed to like any of it. I don't, and my inability to concretely do anything about it is, in a word, frustrating.

Life indeed goes on. Just differently. Which makes me wish it were a little more within my power to make it easier for my still-figuring-it-out family.

And, no, green jello will never quite taste the same again.

The Pillsbury Doughboy called...

...and he wants us all to stop poking him
London, ON
August 2011

About this photo: It's almost - but not quite - time to launch our new Thematic theme, pairs. I wanted to slip in one last "eat" pic under the wire because this one in particular makes me glad I take pictures. Head here to share your own, and pop in after 7 p.m. ET for the new theme.

Our daughter made these. She's spent so much time learning at the feet of her master-mom that it's no wonder she's now becoming a natural herself.

I hung around to ensure nothing was inadvertently combusted in the process, but I really didn't need to. As you can tell from the results, she's more than capable of figuring it all out on her own.

In the end, they were delicious, of course, but not simply because of the ingredients that went into them. She's learning that rare, intangible stuff from mom, too.

Your turn: Why does the act of cooking mean so much to some folks?

Farmers feed cities - and us

What will be
Komoka, ON
November 2012

About this photo: We're winding down our week-long exploration of Thematic's eat theme. Head here if you'd like to share yours. New theme, pairs, goes live tonight at 7:00 p.m. Eastern.

Part of my commute takes me through southwestern Ontario farm country. For about 60 km outside London, between here and Woodstock, I detour off the superhighway and instead roll through the two-lane roads that bisect some of the loveliest farmland on the planet.

While the three lanes of the 401 will get me there about 5 minutes sooner, they so completely disconnect me from the experience that I arrive at my destination having no connection to the places I've just passed. The slower route, on the other hand, is filled with snippets of life that remind me how important the journey needs to be.

Along the way, I come across a lot of pickups owned by farmers. And many of them have bumper stickers on them reminding us to thank farmers for feeding us. I couldn't agree more. The average city-dweller gets everything from the grocery store, yet hardly ever gives a second thought to how it got there, and who ensured it got there.

Staring out at this fallow field, I could see the potential, feel the worth of the crop that would soon be planted here, appreciate the efforts of unseen farmers whose life's work revolved around feeding countless others they'd likely never meet. On this bright, Sunday morning, I hung around a little bit longer in the hope that I'd get to meet - and thank - whoever was responsible for this particular field. Maybe next time.

Your turn: ever wonder where your food comes from?

Salt, pepper, or both?

Something extra
Komoka, ON
November 2012
To share your own eat-themed pic, head here

The scene: you're sitting alone in a coffee shop. Well, you're not completely alone. You arrived on your own, and you're sitting solo at a table off to the corner. But you're surrounded by an endless stream of strangers, all wandering in and out of the brilliantly cold sunny autumn morning in search of their ritualistic fix.

You're here because you just dropped one of the munchkins off at a program nearby, and you're just far enough away from home that it isn't worth the extra drive. And you have contributing any more to global warming than you already are.

So you find a Tim Hortons nearby (if you're American, substitute Dunkin Donuts or, if you move a bit upscale, Starbucks) and hang out with a spot of breakfast for a bit. Moments like this - namely, free, unstructured time - are rare. So you grab them.

And if you're anything like me, while you're grabbing these quiet moments you also try find a way to get some impromptu, silly-themed photography done. Because there's always room for impromptu, silly-themed photography. Because life is short.

Looking at the not-quite-perfect photo above, it isn't so much the composition - flawed - and exposure - blown - that stick with me. It is the immediate connection to a unique moment in a unique place. To a morning when munchkin had a great time in the country with his friends, and I managed to find a way to never forget this brilliantly lit, cold autumn morning.

Your turn: how do you remember an otherwise forgettable day?

On the power of healing

"Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on."
Henry Rollins

In the aftermath of a week so many of us would rather forget, I don't think I'm the only one looking for small touchstones of brightness and hope to hold onto.

On the one hand, the terror that gripped Boston is now over, the alleged perpetrator has been caught and presumably will be brought to justice. On the other hand, innocent lives were lost, and others were forever shattered. And as the surviving victims work to overcome often catastrophic injuries, maybe there's hope in Mr. Rollins's words, that they may emerge from the darkness stronger than they were.

We've found the cure for chocoholism

Too. Much. Chocolate.
Toronto, ON
December 2012
Click here for more Thematic eat

When I was a munchkin, my aunt, as relatives often do, would bring us Toblerone bars. Never anything else: only these delightful triangular-cross-sectioned ones that you couldn't find in a regular store.

If my fuzzy childhood memory isn't betraying me, her family was once involved in the company, so I'm guessing she may have had a guest room in her house dedicated to warehousing a lifetime's worth of them.

The funny thing is they were never the small bars that eventually started showing up in tony Great White North department stores. No, those weren't good enough. So instead she'd drop these ginormous hunks of Eurochocolatey deliciousness in our hot little hands. And just as quickly we'd disappear into our rooms before our parents got wind of it and ordered us to wrap them up and pace ourselves for the next three months.

Inevitably mom and dad figured it out and we'd emerge, faces and hands covered with the evidence, and head straight to the kitchen where our aunt was waiting, big smile on her face. She'd help us carefully wrap and label each one before we all continued doing the cherished things extended families do when they get together.

This recurring experience convinced me for years that Toblerone bars came only in enough-for-an-army size, and when the tiny-sized ones eventually came to town, I steered clear, feeling sorry for anyone who didn't have an aunt like mine.

The thing is, we would have hugged her just as tightly even if she hadn't brought the chocolate bars. She was just that kind of person. Which is why when I came across this massive bar on a colleague's desk, I smiled not because it was a lovely example of the vanishing art of chocolate-making, but because it made me think of her, and those long lost Sunday afternoons when our house was full and life was sweet.

Your turn: your favorite food from childhood was...?

Shabbat shalom

More than just bread
London, ON
February 2013
Click here for more Thematic eat

My wife can turn virtually any set of ingredients into a magical meal. Thanks to her, we eat incredibly well.

There's more to it, however. It isn't simply about sitting down at the dining room table and eating. It's the way she's made the kitchen her domain, the way whatever she's doing in the kitchen plays in the rest of the house, the way everything smells, sounds and feels as we get ready to end the week.

As you can imagine, Friday nights are a big deal in our home, a time for us to linger a little longer over dinner, to look back at the week that was, to look ahead to a couple of days of simply being a family, without the intrusions of the week getting in the way.

At first glance, this loaf of challah looks like any other, some egg bread that'll make some pretty decent toast when we wake up on Saturday morning. In reality, it's so much more, a handmade testament to what makes our house a home, and one of the reasons why I wish we could take days like this and hold onto them for just a little longer.

Your turn: how do you mark the end of the week?

On enjoying the little things

"Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things."
Robert Brault

Correction: they're always the big things. I'm learning, not always easily, to cherish them more than I might have in the past.

Your turn: What so-called "little thing" will you focus on today?