This seventh generation Canadian is getting a little tired of winter. The colour has been drained entirely from the world which makes me daydream about summer afternoons and the fun tied with them. If the sun would be so good as to show its face, I could work with that, but the sky remains a dull, lifeless shade. These photos were shot last summer. You’ll note a complete lack of action shots as, gasp, this team thought it would be a good idea to make me play! I enjoyed gym class as a kid, but nothing filled me with more dread than being up at bat. You’re not being paranoid when you feel as though everyone’s staring at you. They really are staring at you. Not to mention I hadn’t swung a bat since roughly 1997 and was a stranger to most of these folks – no doubt they saw the skinny blonde girl shaking in her shoes and sighed with disappointment. I had about two minutes to say hello to the players on the bench before hearing, “You’re up!” To my credit, I never missed. I can’t claim the ball went that far, though, nor was I the speediest player to move from base to base. Oh, and when a real baseball comes hurtling at your head in the outfield, it’s extremely hard not to cover your head. It’s called self preservation. To the team’s credit, they didn’t complain once.

Of course I brought my furball along. Look at how little she is! Cider would have been about seven or eight months old here. She was not thrilled with being tied up while I ditched her with total strangers but a pup’s gotta roll with it.

I probably could have used some of this before stepping up to the plate.

Yup, I cut myself out. I had to include this shot, even though I obviously did not take it, because HE looks good. Rather, he looks relaxed and happy. Cameras are really not Brendan’s thing and I don’t think I have more than five photos of him looking so thrilled with life. On more than one occasion I’ve whipped out a previously concealed camera trying to capture his smile (because it really is a great smile) and as soon as he sees the lens his expression tightens and becomes artificial. Think Chandler from Friends. Credit to the photographer for bringing this out!

Last month, family and friends gathered to celebrate the birth of Tessa Rose. Though every baby’s arrival is special, Tessa’s timing coming into the world was during an incredibly difficult time for her family. It was an honour to properly meet this little girl, one who’s already brought so much joy without even knowing it yet. We piled into the car one bright, sunny morning and with a necessary Timmy’s stop, headed out to Paris, ON. The house was bustling with women. Gifts piled high and every tiny detail was thought out. Guests were treated to a delicious brunch, a scrapbook station was set up in the corner, and kittens ganged up on the one canine guest. I got to see some familiar faces from university and was so happy I brought my camera due to the attention to detail around the house and the happy faces. My favourite thing to photograph is a candid smile and there were many of those to capture!

And now for the lady of the hour…

Her mother asked that everyone try to keep her awake so she might sleep more soundly during the night. Never has a request been so eagerly fulfilled!

Everything was perfect. The day ended with a quick hello and goodbye to Snickers and his fellow horse pals.

Snickers’ ears are flat because of the shutter sound on my camera. I don’t know if anyone else has experienced this but a shutter seems to make a horse really curious or really pissed off! He politely backed away but his friends wanted a better look at the big black box. I admit to having felt a little nervous as the last time a horse inspected my camera, he seemed pretty keen on squashing me to death. Or, that time a stallion chased me off the field after hearing that dreaded click. I lost my lens cap while hurtling over a fence. One might think such a thing would be lost forever but my friend, who thankfully missed these moments of not-so-graceful fence jumping, sent me an email entitled “Guess what I found?” a couple of week ago. I stared at the attached image trying to figure out what she was trying to show me other than grass. Yup, after all these months of rain and snow, my Nikon cap was recovered.

Kittens? Did I say kittens?

Off topic: I noticed some local folks like to spend a few hours browsing through the blog. Hi there! Feel free to say hello!

It finally happened. The sun came out to play. A visit to the pond was absolutely necessary. Islay, the family Golden, loves to roll in turkey poop. Just loves it. Unfortunately that also means by the end of a walk, my dog and my pants also smell like poop. She can’t keep her fragrance to herself and likes to share despite my loud protests. Islay didn’t spend as much time in the water as I would have liked, but Cider sure did. The dog loves to work. Once she understands what you want her to do, she’ll put her all into it. This includes fetching sticks out of water. I think the photographs speak for themselves, but the real proof lay in the fact that at the end of all this she was trembling from head to toe from cold but kept nudging the stick at my feet, giving me such an exasperated look when I turned to head to the house to dry them off. It reminded me of last winter when her legs were too short to move through the snow and I’d have to tuck her in my coat to keep her warm. She’s just a little too big for that now. I could practically hear her thoughts, “B-b-but I’m f-f-fiiiine Mum! I wanna keep p-p-playing!”

Where was Islay you ask? Well, she tried, I’ll give her that. But someone likes to play dirty. Or perhaps drowning your competitor when neck in neck for a stick is fair play?

Pretty smug. Until…

That went on for a while.

I don’t know which end is up either.

A few bloggers I follow are taking part in the “30 Days of Gratitude” project. I don’t post nearly enough to consider taking part, but I did want to post about this little furry star in my life. It’s her first birthday today and I’m pretty darn grateful she was born. She’s a great dog (despite her tendency to dig up my mother’s bulbs when we visit) and like most dog owners I hold mine in high regard.

It feels like yesterday that I could hold her with one hand. I didn’t know she was my dog at that point, let alone that I would be selecting a pup from that litter as I had my heart on a different breed (fun fact: she’s related to my childhood dog and our current family dog). She was pure happenstance. I don’t make a habit of writing about personal topics on public spaces but I’ll make an exception now with a story I’ve only shared with a select few. On occasion, during times of high stress, I’ve been known to faint. This poses a danger to my physical health, obviously, and Cider’s around to help me out. There are only so many things you can teach a dog though, and there are times when you just have to hope they use their best judgement.

A few days ago I felt the preliminary signs of a faint while in the bath. Home alone, I had Cider with me (does anyone else have a superintendent that doesn’t always knock?) in the bathroom. I don’t always have time to react, lost in a mist of disorientation, and this was one of those times. I remember very little of what happened next but I found myself draped over the side of the tub, teeth marks on my hand and wrist, my dog’s head drenched. Maybe everything would have been fine regardless of her intervention. Maybe primal instinct would have brought me to my senses before anything went truly wrong. All I do know is I’ve got a true partner in this dog and she’s rather remarkable.

In my year-long experience as a concert photographer in both Guelph and Toronto, I’ve become used to a few things. Despite everyone’s best efforts your name may not always make it all the way to the list at the door and last minute phone calls need to be made. There will always be a tall fan who stands right where you need to be. Sticking your elbows out like a chicken to protect your gear (and yourself) is pretty much the only way to survive. Your hearing isn’t blown out by standing by the speakers, but by screaming fans right behind your shoulder. Red light will be deemed a good idea. You get stepped on. You get tripped over. These are just some of the things that you learn to roll with. Last night was very different. It was intimate. The performers easily connected with the small audience who lounged on couches, leather benches, and chairs that were casually strewn about. Candles sat on every surface. It was only at the request of Taylor that people stood up at the front.

This was a low key performance at the Drake Hotel. The lighting didn’t change and the performers stayed rather still. It was an entirely different atmosphere than I’m accustomed to, including shooting in a church. In those cases, the church was always packed. This time, I felt terribly self conscious about moving around the stage. You don’t think you’re blocking someone’s view or think you’re disturbing the mood, you are! Thank you, Nikon, for building a Quiet Mode shutter for your users.

Maria Taylor was lovely. I’m a Grey’s Anatomy fan (no shame) and loved hearing all her featured songs performed in a venue such as this.

There were also performances by The Grenadines and Dead Fingers, all from Alabama. The latter reminded me of The Weepies, just faster, more country, and a little quirkier (in the best way possible).

Yep, this is the bathroom. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist taking a shot of this endless trail of mirrors. I’m also guilty of including crazy poses of myself in these bathroom images but decided not to share those to maintain a little bit of dignity.