Then a little while ago we discovered the Canadian Butter Tart Factory in Strathmore. Or rather, we discovered the butter tarts on sale at various markets. They are amazing. Best I've ever had. Good thing we live a long way from Strathmore.
The Millarville Christmas market is open this weekend, and Linda is there now. I am home awaiting the butter tarts, and whatever else might come home, and getting bossed around by cats. In particular, this one.
I think he's mostly getting used to the idea I'm around much of the day now, and seems to think if I eat something, he should be able to eat something. Sometimes he is underfoot as I'm trying to do something, other times he is asleep somewhere, though the slit of one golden eye can often be seen gleaming out at me.
Here's a couple of the paths on yesterday's walk. I was loving the light through the trees.
And this. I don't know what to think anymore. I was caught by the sun through the trees, bouncing off the tree bark and snow, filtered through some snow falling off the trees behind the ones in front. It was lovely in a translucent sort of way. Colour didn't work, at least I think not, so I played in B&W for a while with different profiles and settings. In the end you have to stop sometime. I don't know if this could be made a better image by someone better with B&W, or if all the tree branches make it such a mess I shouldn't have taken the photo in the first place. Feel free to tell me what you think.
Just so you know, the butter tarts are calling me, singing in multi-part butter tart harmony. I think I know how Jason felt listening to the Sirens, though there is no mast handy to lash myself to.
Deadwood of the Day
Mmm butter tarts! So the B&W is the antithesis of the previous 2. I think you could go when one step further, and take the graduated filter and just darken that top left corner a little bit. That way the eye wouldn't run out that corner. The viewer then has to deal with the mass of branches. Some will run away. Others may go down the rabbit hole of thinking about the human inclination to create a story/ pattern/ sense, even when it does not exist. I'm not saying that I went down that rabbit hole (enjoyable though it may be). I'm just suggesting that some might:) Cheers, Sean
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