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Archive for the ‘Photography’ Category

IMG_3711Sometimes, when you’re driving, you see something that causes you to do a double-take.  And sometimes you see things so weird that only a triple-take can do them justice.

So it was today, as I drove home from Cleveland, and the Speed Speaker pointed out this young driver who had her leg and foot hanging out the window, by the side view mirror, as she barreled down I-71.  I couldn’t tell whether she was also talking on the phone.

My first thought was: how can you drive like that?  My second thought was:  how could you be so limber that you could have your left foot out the window and have your right foot on the gas?  What, is the woman a contortionist or a yoga instructor (which actually are the same thing).  My third thought was:  why would you want to drive with your left foot hanging out the window?  Maybe she was drying her freshly painted toenails?  And my fourth thought was:  how can you drive like that?

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IMG_3689Mom asked for a new batch of cookies — just in time for Mother’s Day — and what dutiful son can refuse his mother?  She had a hankering for some iced sugar cookies, and I tried to choose icing colors that looked like spring, with pastel blues, greens, and pinks.  Of course, some chocolate-flavored icing made with Nestle’s Quik and some sprinkles can’t hurt, either.

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IMG_1220Sometimes you learn weird things about your dog.  This week we learned that Kasey can’t resist dandelion puffballs — those round weed tops that kids pluck and blow on, scattering the grey fragments to the wind.

Kasey acts like they are lollipops, or maybe some kind of rodent.  She snaps at them with gusto and would happily devour an entire field if we let her run amok.  Why is this so?  Beats me!  Maybe Kasey was frightened by a puffball as a young pup.  Or maybe puffballs have some kind of delicate flavor that renders them irresistible.  Or, most likely, Kasey’s eyesight so bad that a waving grey puffball looks like easy prey.

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IMG_1214I was driving in downtown Columbus today when I saw this unfortunate juxtaposition of signage and got a good laugh out of it.  I doubt that any political party would want to be identified as “available,” but I suppose a “for sale” sign would have been worse.

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IMG_1209The flowering trees in our neighborhood are beautiful, but they are losing their petals with every gentle gust of spring breeze.  Be careful as you walk and talk — you might end up with a mouthful.

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IMG_2551The weekend is here!  The weekend is here!  Time to sit back, get into a weekend frame of mind, and enjoy the cool of the evening.  Me, I’ll be thinking of our trip to Antigua, and that island’s special beauty.

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IMG_1181In central Ohio, when spring arrives and the temperature goes up, the motorcycles come out.  Chopper owners take off the tarps, wheel their rigs out of their garages, and let the bikes wind out in the fine spring weather.

Seeing motorcycles is a good sign that it’s going to be a nice day, because most bikers know to check the weather and only ride on days that are certain to be dry.  Once you ride a motorcycle in the rain, getting soaked to the bone and splattered by passing cars, you’ll do just about anything to avoid it.

And speaking of motorcyclists, let’s all be sure to keep an eye out for them, give them plenty of room, and let them share the road without incident.

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IMG_3649Saturday morning is special.

On weekday mornings, our walks occur under cover of darkness.  I listen to my iPod as we make our way along the familiar, darkened route.  On Saturday, however, we sleep in and begin our walk as the sun is rising.  With the coming of spring the birds have returned, and they greet the dawn with song.  On Saturdays I walk without iPod and rely on the cheeps and tweets, the chirps and the twitters, for my musical accompaniment.  Their happy sounds make the morning a bit more glorious.

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IMG_3641When Kish and I got home this afternoon, I discovered a large, very plump rabbit sitting underneath one of the bushes around our patio.  It sat there, basking in the bright sunshine and munching on something, apparently unconcerned that it was out in the open and exposed.  It sat there for at least a half hour, shifting position from time to time, before it finally hopped away. 

The fact that Kasey and Penny weren’t home might help explain the rabbit’s curious behavior.

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IMG_3603The Hermitage Hotel in downtown Nashville has a fabulous lobby, but it is most well-known for having a jazzy, art deco men’s room one floor down.  Seriously . . . guide books alert you to the restroom, and advise that, if it is not currently in use, women are permitted to go in to take in the  (ahem) atmosphere.  Sure, enough, Kish wanted to take a peek.

It’s a very attractive bathroom, I suppose, but a bathroom is, after all, a bathroom.  Green urinals, old-fashioned phones, and shoe shining stands don’t change the essential purpose of the room.  And ladies, speaking as someone who has been in countless men’s rooms, I can tell you that this is as good as it gets.

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IMG_3634I knew Nashville held itself out as the Music City, and the home of country music.  I had no idea, however, that it was a place where middle America came to get tanked.

On Broadway, about 8 blocks from our hotel, is a riotous collection of bars, music venues, karaoke joints, t-shirt salons, and cowboy boot emporiums, all lit up like a Christmas tree against the Nashville night sky.  Throng of red-faced, boot-wearing folks crowd the sidewalks and jam into the bars, swilling beer and listening to an unknown group — some very good, some not so — do covers of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Jimmy Buffett, and Eric Clapton tunes.  On our walk tonight we saw bachelorette parties, rednecks ready to brawl, and families with kids, all ready to take in that Nashville ambiance.

With all the neon and motorcycles and crowds out on the streets, it reminded me somewhat of American Graffiti.  To complete the image, we saw a sign warning that there was to be “no cruising” from 9 p.m. to 3 a.m.

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IMG_3591Last night Kish and I visited the Patterson House because Kish wanted to try a bacon-infused Old Fashioned, pictured above.  The drink is made with Benton bacon-infused Four Roses bourbon, maple syrup, and pecan coffee bitters.  Kish said it was “delish!”

The Patterson House is an amazing place that shows you what a cocktail lounge could be like if people just worked at it.  It’s dark and quiet, with music playing in the background at just the right volume.  Access is controlled, so you don’t have a bunch of people crowding in at the bar, shouting their orders.  As a result, you actually can have a conversation, which isn’t possible at most bars I’ve been to recently.  The place offers some well-made, lighter fare food options, too, to balance the alcohol consumption.

The bartenders and waiters clearly take great pride in their appearance and their craft.  They work hard to make the perfect drink, and their list of drink options shows the kind of attention to detail that makes that goal feasible.  From the spherical ice cubes to the vigorous shaking to the careful placement of an orange peel, this is the place to come if you want to savor a well-made drink and some pleasant conversation.

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IMG_3596I don’t know whether the AT&T building in Nashville was intended to remind people of a certain Gotham City superhero, but it definitely had that impact on me.

If only a neighboring building resembled The Boy Wonder!

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IMG_3578Our travels through Nashville yesterday took us past Centennial Park, and as we looked over we saw . . . the Parthenon.

Yes, in the middle of Centennial Park there is a full-scale replica of the Parthenon, the crown jewel of the Acropolis in ancient Athens.  The Nashville replica is supposed to be complete and accurate in every detail, including the statue of Athena inside.  The Nashville Parthenon also houses an art museum.

I didn’t go inside to see Athena — the presence of groups of schoolkids seemed to promise a less than pleasant experience for a hefty $6 price tag — but I did walk around the structure, which is being refurbished.  It’s a pretty cool thing to find in the middle of an American city.

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IMG_3571Yesterday Kish and I went to the Hermitage, the plantation home of Andrew Jackson.  It is conveniently located within the footprint of metropolitan Nashville, and it’s well worth a visit — both to learn a bit more about one of our Presidents, but also to spend some time pondering the imponderable question of why any American, much less a President, thought it was acceptable to own slaves.

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Andrew Jackson’s grave

The Hermitage consists of a large brick pillared and porticoed plantation home and its grounds, an adjoining garden in which Jackson and members of his family are buried, and a series of walking paths that take you to other places and buildings on the plantation grounds, some of which are still standing and some of which are visible only in the form of foundations traced on the ground.

The main building is beautiful and well-preserved, with original wallpaper, lighting fixtures, and furnishings.  You can see Jackson’s study, his bed and his chamber pot, the weekly newspapers he read and bound in large books and the room where he died.  You can hear from the friendly guides wearing period costume about the house and Jackson’s family and his love for his wife and their adoption of their son.  You can visit his grave in a beautiful garden, where Old Hickory lies beneath a small Greek dome.

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One of the slave cabins at the Hermitage

The real impact of the tour for us, however, didn’t occur until we walked away from the main building and its well-kept grounds and began touring the fields and outbuildngs, where Jackson’s slaves toiled.  Jackson eventually owned 150 slaves who did the real work on the plantation.  They planted and picked cotton and operated the cotton gin that Jackson built, churned butter, tended the horses, mucked out the stables, and cooked the meals.  Little is known about them, and when you walk back to the area where the slaves lived and see photos of their lost possessions that preservationists have uncovered, you cannot help but feel an immense sadness and anger.

I commend that Hermitage for making a significant effort to cast light on the fact that one of our most famous Presidents was a large slaveholder who bought and sold slaves as chattel and achieved wealth through their uncompensated labors.  He may not have been the cruelest master in the Old South, but he somehow rationalized the ownership of fellow human beings.  That simple fact, for me, makes the rest of the Jackson story a lot less relevant.

Years after Jackson’s death, during the midst of the Civil War, the Union Army captured Nashville and slaves were free to leave.  The vast majority of the slaves on the Hermitage plantation promptly left, choosing an uncertain future over continued interaction with their former masters.  That tells you all you need to know about slavery.

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