mud pies to medicine: It's Hard to Come Up With Titles When You're Posting Every Day

Thursday, January 19, 2012

It's Hard to Come Up With Titles When You're Posting Every Day

#16 Neutral Tones. I randomly snapped this one the same time as the first photo of the day during a walk through the woods in near our farm house. It just kind of sat around populating the unposted folder of Vermont pictures. I decided to edit it today and give a bit of a vintage feel. The original is low on color and I thought it had some potential. I took a lot of the information on how to do an edit like this from a tutorial I found on youtube.

I'm still behind from my birthday weekend and intend to make up for it. I'm really running out of things to take pictures of. The winter weather means I'm in no mood to go outside and get new photos and I'm running out of things in my apartment to take pictures of. Textbooks? I think not. Might me time for yet another stop my an antique store to find some interesting subjects. Or perhaps a trip to the city... o yes, that just might have to happen.

1 comment:

TaraJanuary 20, 2012 at 1:27 PM
Yes! I vote for that! To the citaaaaay!
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The inspiration you ask?

I miss making mud pies. There is this huge rock in my front yard. To call it a rock really does it a dishonor. It is a boulder, brought home by my father on a huge dump truck after he blasted it out of a work site. My mom one day told me that even though it is nearly 2.5 feet high, 6 feet long, and 2.5 feet wide, that it was, in fact, only half-showing. The scientist inside of me was disbelieving and set out to get some proof. Clad in a dress, bow in my hair, and my best accessory, a shovel, I trudged outside ready to prove my mother wrong. That is when the digging began. I dug, and dug, and dug, and nearly all 3.5 feet of Danielle fit in that hole when I had reached the bottom of the rock. That became my digging spot, my mud pie kitchen. Each day it was dug, and each evening it was filled back in. Sometimes the holes were small, sometimes they were enormous, and most days the hole was turned into my mud mixing bowl with that rock as my counter. The novelty never wore off. The ebb and flow of my childhood was, in many ways, measured by the ever-changing depth of that hole in the front yard, the hole that never really disappeared even each day after it was filled in. Even though the grass has grown back in that spot, there still remains, an indentation, the scars of a childhood well lived and the disbelieving scientists I have always been.

So, you ask me why I want to be a doctor? I do not want to be a doctor. I want to open a mud pie bakery with the cash register on that rock in my front yard. But, somehow, I doubt I would stay in business long, for the world seems to have lost its taste for mud pies. I guess being a doctor will have to do.