Contests and Grants and Fellowships, Oh, My!

Over the years I have watched many of them judged and I have to say, it's hit or miss at best. So much seems to be determined by the judges' moods or maybe what they had for breakfast or lunch. It's a crapshoot.

With that said, it's still nice to get an award. I have a folder full of certificates for first, second, and third places and honorable mentions for my photography and editing when I was in the newspaper business. I have a plaque for hosting a conference. I have two trophies that I cherish: One for being the offensive coordinator of my son's 7th grade football team in Alabama, and another for being an assistant coach for my daughter's 7th grade recreational softball team. The football team won one game. The girls won the championship. It doesn't matter.

And I have three, yes, three trophies for winning the fantasy football league that I have been the Commissioner of for 22 years. "In Your Face," I say to other BFL owners who probably will never read this.

But I have never received a Blue Ribbon, until this week.  I got one for winning "Best in Show" at the local pinhole photography competition sponsored by the Dunham Tavern Museum in Cleveland (see the photo below). 

OK, It wasn't a national contest, or a regional, or a state. And very few people in the area probably even knew about it. At best, there were maybe five entries in the adult category. My biz partner, Al, and I went to see the show on Monday. But the barn housing the show wasn't open and the docent on duty didn't have the key. And it was pouring rain. So we went back this afternoon.

I kind of associate Blue Ribbons with livestock competitions. That's all right with me. I know the endless, thankless hours required to raise a Blue Ribbon steer, or cow, or pig, or chicken.

But it's a resume builder, and I'm doing a Happy Dance.
Pinhole photo of the abandoned U.S. Coast Guard station at the mouth of the Cuyahoga river. This was my entry, 

Meriwether and me

I try to keep at least one book going at all times. But I'm a slow reader, mostly confining my time to late night. I get a chapter or two in and I'm done. For the most part, I read non-fiction, history, leaning toward the American Civil War.

But one of the books I've been working on is The Journals of Lewis and Clark, edited by Bernard DeVoto. The other day I came across the passage below. 

When I read it, it made me feel worthless and at the same time, inspired. What he accomplished, at age 30, is unmatched by todays standards (as a sidebar, Meriwether Lewis committed suicide, arguably, at age 35 in a tavern at Grinder's Stand along the Natchez Trace in Mississippi).

From near the Continental Divide. Sunday, August 18th, 1805.

"This day I completed my thirty first year, and conceived that I had in all human probability now existed about half the period which I am to remain in this Sublunary world.
 
I reflected that I had as yet done but little, very little, indeed, to further the happiness of the human race or to advance the information of the succeeding generation.
 
I viewed with regret the many hours I have spent in indolence, and now soarly feel the want of that information which those hours would have given me had they been judiciously expended. but since they are past and cannot be recalled, I dash from me the gloomy thought, and resolved in future, to redouble my exertions and at least indeavour to promote those two primary objects of human existence, by giving them the aid of that portion of talents which nature and fortune have bestowed on me; or in future, to live for mankind, as I have heretofore lived for myself."

What was I thinking!?

 

I couldn't even find my Squills. So here are my Tulips.I would like to apologize to any readers for visually misleading them yesterday and perhaps importing a sense of hope and Spring.

I feel like Charlie Brown who just had the football yanked away. 

This photo was taken today, 24 hours after yesterdays. That's life on the North Coast. Damn you, Lucy!

Perhaps an apt name for the Goddess of Cleveland weather.

Mentalist

Thanks to Mark Righmire for identifying this for me, a Siberian squill. it was the first color, other than the rhubarb, to push up through the mulch. It deserves a mention.

I've discovered over the last decade or two, that I really enjoy being outdoors more than in, especially in the summer which is preciously sweet along the North Coast. Or maybe that's just how I like to picture myself.

 It was a nice day, by Cleveland standards. It was a sunny, no-clouds, blue sky, 37-degree day. After work I took a moment to sit outside and consider the yard chores, a mental list, for the near future.

 I keep a modest garden, mostly Salsa fixins (when the deer don't ravage it), a little rhubarb, a few black raspberries, but that's about it. I want to expand it a tad and think about the layout, and why some things grow and others don't. and deal how to deal with the compost pile and a foolproof plan how to foil the deer (I'm envisioning Elmer Fudd here).

 I'm on the ropes with the very shady area in the back. It needs a major overhaul. I think I'll try one more time to grow some grass but after that, it's ground cover time. Perhaps a nice conifer.

 My outdoor lounge just needs to get cleaned up, the geegaws put back and maybe move a few plants. Oh, and run some electricity out there.

 I have a chain saw that won't start and a pile of hefty limbs accumulated after storms.

 I didn't write any of this down. Just by walking out the back door I know what needs to be done and have a good reckoning of the proper order.

 I wish the rest of life were that clear. But then again, maybe that would make it seem too much like chores.

Devotion

I stated  that this blog would not discuss Religion or Politics. So, with this entry, I skirt the issue.

While leaving an estate sale this morning I passed this yard (photo above). I didn't have my camera with me, but I went to my truck, and got my trusty Canon G9 to make the photo.

Simply said, I love personal, artistic, statements. Cutouts of people bending over do not count.

When I moved North from Alabama ten years ago, I re-discovered the world of lawn ornamentation.

In the South, it is called "Folk Art." In the North it is "Lawn Ornaments." But the difference I am skirting, is that in the North, the more personal statements are often based on the Catholic religion. Passion is good.

Most commonly, it is a tribute to the Mother of Jesus, the Virgin Mary. And the ones I see most commonly include a half-sunken bathtub surrounding the statue of Mary.

But this person went the extra yard. They constructed a box, with a real roof, and a front of plexiglass. This took some thought, and labor. It took love and devotion.

These tributes exist throughout our society, no matter what your beliefs are.

A couple of years ago I photographed the Virgin Mary statue in the back yard of my mother-in-law in Michigan. I made the photo with my 4x5 pinhole camera and later on decided to add color to it, via Photoshop.

My point is, if there is one, is that personal expression of your beliefs, on your property, is ART. Nothing more?