Sundays on our block are a good time for the kids to get out and play and for the adults to hang out and talk about whatever, you know, the usual stuff: how to solve the world's problems, who has the nastiest grill, whether or not we should get matching block t-shirts with our names on the back.
I used to wonder why adults did that. Talk, talk, talk was all they ever did. Boring! How could they just stand around and jabber? Why didn't they ride imaginary horses like the rest of us?
18 comments:
Some days my horses have fled across the fields—fled my routine, my worries, my talk. Some days when I come out they're grazing calmly, as if they'd never left. Fickle things; hard to get a saddle on 'em … but here they come again, with soft hooves …
very picturesque...both of you
Standing out front, passing time with a bunch of neighbours is what we do while our horses rest up, Petrea.
They're always there when we need to ride them.
Beautiful, photo, by the way. I remember drawing as a little kid and dad telling me that shadows are purple and blue, not grey. I saw them properly for the first time and it was like someone had just switched on the lights in my brain. This shadow is a wonderful colour.
I grew up knowing all the neighbors and they would stand on our lawn and talk forever. I miss that. I wear a sweater when it's 75 and I'm keeping it handy, just in case.
My brother would have the world believe that I was the only person in the world to ride imaginary horses. It's so nice to know that some of the very best people also had/have them ... and that others see shadows as shades of purple and blue.
I imagined comments this post might get and they were not these. You are all better than my imagination because you've added to it and ignited it.
Let me lower the tone: are those purple and blue things imaginary horse poop?
Do you mean that "my pretty pony" poop ends up recycled as sidewalk chalk?
These are more like the comments I had imagined.
Wow, Dive, what a great thing for your dad to tell you. Is he an artist?
Dad wasn't an artist, John, but he loved to draw (mostly aircraft) and encouraged my drawing skills. It's mostlly his fault I'm an architect. He flew on V-bombers out of Cyprus with the RAF, buzzing the southern borders of the USSR with a couple of nukes in the belly back in the days of Doctor Strangelove. He's been gone a while now and I miss him.
I love the tone and the POV of this photo. How you can almost feel the texture of the chalk. When I was 4, I had a stick horse and I'd put on my little red cowboy hat and gallop to all kinds of imaginary places -- especially while the adults were deep in conversation.
What a tale, Dive.
Ms. M, my sister and I emailed each other today. We still have the stick horses our father made for us--cut with a jigsaw and hand painted.
This is a terrific photo, a child's perspective with a child's toys. And the colors are so rich.
Thanks, K. Sometimes I wonder. Monitors are all so different, you never know how it's going to look from desktop to desktop.
I totally agree with -K-. This is a truly wondrous photo!
ooh, I nearly missed this!
Exceptional photo. Right up there with the Hahamunga track team and the drying leaf.
I imagine Charles Schulz would have taken photos like this, with the eye of the little people.
Very nice words, my friends. Thank you. I'm honored.
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