WordPress has a weekly photo challenge, and this week, the challenge is to tell a story with three photos.
What do you do when you’re out in the middle of nowhere, backpacking, and you discover a rubber ball?
Do you leave it in the woods? Pack it in your pack?
Or carry it with you, bouncing it and tossing it along the trail?
To see some other three photo stories, click here.
Some are obsessed with exercise. Others with chocolate or some other substance. But not my dog. She is obsessed with an object. And not just any object. She is obsessed with tennis balls.
No matter where she goes, she finds one. Near a lake or in the woods. Near a ball field or in a parking lot. In the grass or in the snow. She finds one.
With a ball in her mouth, no one else exists. Not a stick or even a rabbit. Just her, the ball, and the potential ball thrower.
She would rather chew a ball than eat or drink. The yellow-green fuzzy sphere wreaking havoc on her teeth but keeping her busy and focused.
She throws the ball herself or drops it at my feet. She waits. And hopes for someone to attempt to pick up the ball, to throw it, so she can retrieve.
Finally, she pounces, chews the ball for a few times, and then throws it again. Ready to wait again, as long as it takes, for someone to throw her the ball.
This post was written as part of a weekly photo challenge. To see photos of other objects, click here.
Trip taken February 2014.
Horizon. The space or line where the sky meets the earth.
On the road near Royal Natal National Park, South Africa.
According to Franklin Roosevelt, “We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon.”
Cahoon Hollow Beach, Wellfleet, Massachusetts.
Emigrant Wilderness, near Yosemite National Park, California.
Perhaps that’s why I love to travel. To see beyond my own boundaries, to meet new people and encounter new places, to experience life from a different angle.
Badlands National Park, South Dakota.
Upper West Side, New York City.
Sat-u-rated: Filled completely with something that permeates or pervades; a color not mixed with white; a pure unmixed color.
One early morning on the Wild Coast of South Africa, the colors of a sunrise saturated my world. And for a moment, my world was golden.
Trip taken 2011. This post is in response to the WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge.
I didn’t have to travel far to capture this frog on film. He (or she!) climbed up my front storm door and hung out for awhile one hot summer night. Perhaps it was cooler against the glass.
With his white belly and toes that are not completely webbed, it looks like he might be a wood frog (Rana sylvatica), a frog which lives in the northeastern U.S. in forests or woodland areas. To see some other unusual points of view, click here.
Trip taken July 2013.
According to the dictionary, to be carefree means being free from anxiety or responsibility. Perhaps that’s why, when I think of my most carefree moments, I am on my own, exploring or trying something new: I’m kayaking in the ocean or scrambling up a mountain; I’m walking on the beach or meandering through a farmer’s market; I’m making chocolate chip cookies or staring at the ocean.
When are you most carefree?
My love of color is evidenced by the colors of the home in which I live. My house is red, my car is green, my bedroom is lilac, my bath is aqua.
As I travel, my eye is drawn to color. I found red in a hibiscus in Central Park, in the comb of a rooster in South Africa, in the shirt of a man on the 4th of July in Boston, in the strawberries and radishes at a farmers’ market in California. I found orange in the flames of a campfire in New England, in the wings of a butterfly on Cape Cod, in a tower of the Golden Gate Bridge, in a handpainted sign on the Brooklyn Bridge.
I found yellow in a meadow in the Sierras, on a New York taxi cab, in a candle in Frankfurt, and in bubbling macaroni and cheese. I found green in the leaves and on the wings of a bird, and on a girl’s sunglasses on the beach.
I found purple in the lilacs in front of Louisa May Alcott’s house and inside a hot air balloon. I found blue in the skies everywhere I went.
Snapshots and Sojourns 