Scene on Queen – The Final Image – (December 2013)

Tags

children, culture, Dad, family, life, love, Queen Street West, street photography, toronto

Scene on Queen is my monthly single-photo feature capturing the teeming life and oddities on Queen Street West in Toronto.

I take the photos with my Nikon CoolPix point-and-shoot camera on my way home from work — all from the comfort of my MINI Cooper cabin.

Lightning quick and in-the-moment.

Street photography at its wildest and weirdest.

At Scene on Queen, typical photography ‘sins’ like blurriness and bad composition are forgiven in favor of the story behind the photo.

Twelve months.  Twelve photos.

It’s all subjective, but know that in the split second just before I press the shutter, something clicks inside me — moves me to record it.

A strange pattern or reflection; juxtaposition or gentrification.

When the street light turns green, the moment’s gone.

For the full modus operandi and other cool Toronto street pics,

click on Gone Snap Happy!

 Scene on Queen

Urban Dad. Three kids. Stroll interrupted. 

“Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

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(click to enlarge photo)

This is the final image in my year-long series of monthly photos capturing life on Toronto’s Queen Street West. Click on ‘Scene on Queen’ under ‘Categories’ to scroll through all twelve in a row.

The completion of this 12-month exercise has made me a more acute observer of human behavior, of beauty where I least expected it, and of details in the everyday that we often miss in the chaos of it all.

With a lot of luck and split-second timing, a few snippets of daily life in this part of Toronto were witnessed and forever captured.  To the readers of this blog worldwide, thank you for joining in the fun and bearing witness.

Click below for my favorites:

Dorothy & Toto Do Queen Street West

Mainly Books (and sometimes cats)

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New once-a-month photo feature:  Eye of The Beholder (details to come)

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Unlikely Inheritance — The Bird Gene

Tags

bald eagles, beach, beauty, birds, California, genetics, inheritance, love, mexico, nature, pelicans, photography, san francisco, seagulls

My Dad was crazy about birds, but not the exotic kind like cockatoos or parrots.

Seagull in LaJolla, CA

He loved seagulls — those squawking opportunists who, by their sheer numbers,  smother most beach communities and flutter around french fry stands. His favorites flocked to Wymbolwood Beach on Georgian Bay where we vacationed every summer for 16 years.

Seagull in Huntington Beach, CA

My Dad shot reams of film on his 8mm camera — lots of the family — and tons of the seagulls near the water. Flying. Fighting. Scavenging. Seagulls.

In their later years, my Mom and Dad began taking holidays farther from home to places like Hawaii, Paris, Rome, San Diego and Columbia.

On each trip, my Dad seemed strangely fixated on seagulls. I wondered, as we sat in the dark watching reel after reel of gulls flying around in foreign lands, where were the Paris cafes? The Roman architecture?  What happened to the Hawaiian volcanoes and the emerald landscapes of Columbia?

All I can remember are silent movies of nothing but gulls and more gulls!!

Today, while reflecting on my own photo collection amassed from years of picture-taking,  I realized, with astonishment, that I have inherited the bird gene from my father!!

Bald Eagle — Balls Falls Conservation Area in Niagara

I have hundreds of photos of ducks, seagulls, parrots and pelicans eating up megabytes of my digital space. Owls, bald eagles and swans, oh my!!

Like my Dad was in his time, I am obsessed with birds — seagulls included.  With camera in hand, I feel an intense compulsion to shoot National Geo pictorials if a bird appears within 100 feet of me and my lens!

Gull in San Francisco Bay

I’ve concluded there must be some sort of mutant DNA strand responsible for this bird fetish found in me and my father.

My eldest sister once commented that among the four siblings, I am the one who most closely resembles my Dad in personality and temperament.

Pelican in Tulum, Mexico

We had no idea at the time that I also carried the bird gene — a most unlikely, but beloved, inheritance.

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Upcoming Posts: Sea Lions, Abstract Photos

Must Love Dogs

Tags

cats, cottage country, dogs, dogsledding, Iditarod, love, nature, outdoors, photography, Siberian Huskies, snow, weekend getaways, winter sports

It’s August.  We’re in the middle of the dog days of summer.

Strangely, I’m already looking forward to the dog days of winter — specifically my mid-February weekend getaway — to go dogsledding!

In preparation, there are four things I must do.

1) Disguise the fact that I’m just a little bit afraid of dogs. If they stand taller than my knees, I get nervous. But I really LOVE them! Given that dogsledding involves interacting with at least 15 howling, rambunctious mid-size huskies, one might question my motivation in choosing this particular winter activity. (Luckily, I’m capable of holding contradictory truths simultaneously)

2) Persuade my reluctant, winter-hating French Canadian boyfriend (henceforth referred to as Monsieur), who loves dogs and is NOT afraid of them, that we’ll have even MORE fun this year.

3) Locate my thermal underwear. And my balaclava. Plus my Sorrels. They’ve been hibernating.

4) Book our favorite room at Sir Sam’s Inn in the Haliburton Highlands and register for the two-hour Winterdance dogsled tour. (they fill up months in advance)

As future posts will reveal, I am a certified cat person. (yes, another contradiction) And I also have an aversion to winter including all winter sports. (yes, another one)

In fact, prior to the first dogsledding tour, I didn’t even own any casual winter wear. I actually had to buy ski pants for the first time since I was a kid!

Monsieur and I were becoming entrenched in a sloth-like winter routine. It was high time for us to come alive during this dreaded season before we found ourselves crushed under the weight of stagnation. (a little dramatic, but true nonetheless)

Dogsledding seemed like an antidote that provided adventure, required no special equipment and demanded only average athletic ability. Perfect.

In the photo above, the Winterdance guide scoops up one of the dogs for some love and affection before the run.

These two beauties led our team of three other dogs plus myself and Monsieur on the sled. Dogsledding is a team effort and, as explained by the guide in our inaugural excursion, the person on the back of the sled sometimes acts as the “sixth dog.”

For instance, when trekking uphill, it’s part of the driver’s job to encourage the dogs and guide the sled by pushing off using one leg like you would a (huge) scooter.

To lighten the load, the passenger must vacate the sled and huff and puff their way to the top of the hill on foot.

The dogs respond to simple, spoken voice commands. ‘Hike’ means Go. ‘Whoa’ means STOP.  We glide across the frozen pristine lake in suspended silence.

Thankfully, there is also a slow/stop brake on the back of the sled which comes in handy when you careen– yes, careen — downhill on a narrow trail and the dogs are flying at top speed!!

(As it turns out, screaming for your life is NOT a command).

And no, I DID NOT get a picture.

These canines have a ton of energy and love to run. If you waste time standing around admiring the breathtaking scenery they’ll throw you a couple of questioning looks.

Our adorable team! That’s me lounging in the sled. Monsieur is on the back  — catching his breath and gritting his teeth.

Okay, the run is done! Enough portraits already. Where’s the grub?

Hank De-Bruin, owner/operator of Winterdance dogsledding tours, and an Iditarod and Yukon Quest competitor, said this of dogsledding: “There’s not a drug in the world that gives you a better high. It’s raw power at its purest.”

HIKE! Here we go again!

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Upcoming Posts: The Hunks of Huntington Beach, CA