I love this post by the Adventurous Kate blog and wanted to repost it here to share with you (and keep for myself for revisiting later at my leisure)!
The first time I traveled to Istria, Croatia, it was on a bit of a whim. I was desperate to finally visit the Balkans in general and Croatia in …
15 Reasons to Travel to Istria, Croatia
I missed a week. Last Sunday, I didn’t get around to showing my latest weekly photo due to a case of COVID-19. My bout with the sickness from 2020, the year that just keeps “giving,” began with a low-grade fever on Tuesday, Sept. 29. My fever diminished a couple of days later, followed by extreme aches and muscle pains, followed by allergy-like symptoms shortly thereafter, followed by loss of taste and smell just night before last. And so it goes; fortunately, no more serious issues have arisen.
I’ll be posting again tomorrow, but wanted to add last Sunday’s photo before then. I’ll explain this little project below the photos, so keep scrolling if you’re a little confused.
Every Sunday morning, my husband and I take a walk through our local city park in Bolivar, Missouri. Near the back of the park acreage is this idyllic scene in the pictures above.
I’ve always thought this scene was especially pretty, although I’m not sure why there’s a lectern facing the trees. Perhaps the trees need a “talking to” every so often?
The idea struck me to take a photo of this setting, and then on each subsequent Sunday morning at about the same time, take another and add it to the post. Doing this would allow us to watch the seasons change in a minuscule amount from week to week.
On another note: I am not adjusting any filters on these photos; however, I do sharpen them just a bit in my iPhone camera app.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to click like and become a follower for more posts.
Marilyn Yung | Her Writing Portfolio and Blog
Every Sunday morning, my husband and I take a walk through our local city park in Bolivar, Missouri. Near the back of the park acreage is this idyllic scene in the pictures above.
I’ve always thought this scene was especially pretty, although I’m not sure why there’s a lectern facing the trees. Perhaps the trees need a “talking to” every so often?
The idea struck me to take a photo of this setting, and then on each subsequent Sunday morning at about the same time, take another and add it to the post. Doing this would allow us to watch the seasons change in a minuscule amount from week to week.
On another note: I am not adjusting any filters on these photos; however, I do sharpen them just a bit in my iPhone camera app.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to click like and become a follower for more posts.
Marilyn Yung | Her Writing Portfolio and Blog
Every Sunday morning, my husband and I take a walk through our local city park in Bolivar, Missouri. Near the back of the park acreage is this idyllic scene in the pictures above.
I’ve always thought this scene was especially pretty, although I’m not sure why there’s a lectern facing the trees. Perhaps the trees need a “talking to” every so often?
The idea struck me to take a photo of this setting, and then on each subsequent Sunday morning at about the same time, take another and add it to the post. Doing this would allow us to watch the seasons change in a minuscule amount from week to week.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to click like and become a follower for more posts.
Marilyn Yung | Her Writing Portfolio and Blog
Every Sunday morning, my husband and I take a walk through our local city park in Bolivar, Missouri. Near the back of the park acreage is this idyllic scene in the pictures above.
I’ve always thought this scene was especially pretty, although I’m not sure why there’s a lectern facing the trees. Perhaps the trees need a “talking to” every so often?
The idea struck me to take a photo of this setting, and then on each subsequent Sunday morning at about the same time, take another and add it to the post. Doing this would allow us to watch the seasons change in a minuscule amount from week to week.
If you’re like me and believe that fall is the fairest of the seasons, bookmark this post and then check back every week, clicking your refresh button to see the latest photo that’s been added.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to click like and become a follower for more posts.
Marilyn Yung | Her Writing Portfolio and Blog
Every Sunday morning, my husband and I take a walk through our local city park in Bolivar, Missouri. Near the back of the park acreage is this idyllic scene in the pictures above.
I’ve always thought this scene was especially pretty, although I’m not sure why there’s a lectern facing the trees. Perhaps the trees need a “talking to” every so often?
The idea struck me to take a photo of this setting, and then on each subsequent Sunday morning at about the same time, take another and add it to the post. Doing this would allow us to watch the seasons change in a minuscule amount from week to week.
If you’re like me and believe that fall is the fairest of the seasons, bookmark this post and then check back every week, clicking your refresh button to see the latest photo that’s been added.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to click like and become a follower for more posts.
Marilyn Yung | Her Writing Portfolio and Blog
Rust is the reliable color of
weakness and endurance,
an erratic reacquaintance.
He’s the embarrassing residue
oxidizing at the edge of iron’s brawn.
A popular environmental color,
he was a favorite at the very
first Earth Day in 1970.
Unlike his obstinate cousin,
Orange,
Rust also goes by
Clay,
Cinnamon,
Squash,
Yam,
Copper Mountain.
Crayons know him
as Burnt Sienna.
Redheads call him
Ginger.
The tint of McRib,
he imitates the
machine-formed pork hero:
in and out of our lives —
back for a limited time —
and then gone for months
(or years) on end.
Featured Photo by Zsolt Palatinus on Unsplash
I took the above photo yesterday afternoon at the Pomme de Terre River about six miles east of Bolivar, Missouri. After I posted it on Instagram and Facebook, a friend commented that it reminded her of paintings from the Hudson River School. I vaguely knew what she meant, but I wasn’t exactly sure.
So I did what we all do when we’re a little fuzzy on a subject: I googled. Two seconds later, I found this entry on Wikipedia,
“The Hudson River School was a mid-19th century American art movement embodied by a group of landscape painters whose aesthetic vision was influenced by Romanticism. The paintings typically depict the Hudson River Valley and the surrounding area, including the Catskill, Adirondack, and White Mountains.”
Wikipedia
I also read that two of the more prominent Hudson River School artists were Asher Brown Durand (1796-1886) and Thomas Cole (1801-1848).
That Wikipedia entry rang a bell. In my mind’s eye, I could hazily recall Kindred Spirits, the masterpiece by Durand I saw a few years ago in the permanent collection at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Arkansas. (Read my article about this fabulous collection here: There are no crystal bridges at Crystal Bridges: and other thoughts about the best art museum you’ve probably never heard of).
I can see what my friend meant by her Facebook comment. A few things give my photo that “Hudson River School” look:
“In general, Hudson River School artists believed that nature in the form of the American landscape was a reflection of God.“
Wikipedia
Even though the various artists of the Hudson River School differed in their beliefs or devotion to Christianity, they apparently shared an inclination to record a pastoral, peaceful co-existence between mankind and nature. The paintings accomplish that goal. They are uplifting, calming, and restorative… just like that little bend in the Pomme de Terre.
Yesterday, I was just taking a pretty picture down by the river east of Bolivar. However, thanks to my friend’s comment, I learned a little about 19th-century American art. Hopefully, with this blog post (by the way, blogs are another form of social media) you learned a little, too.
I’ve been to Venice twice, but neither time have I ridden a gondola or disembarked from a cruise (or embarked on one, for that matter). On my first trip to Venice, I flew to Marco Polo Airport and then hopped onto an Ali Laguna vaporetto to hop off at San Samuele.
On my second trip, I took a bus from Marco Polo to the bustling Piazzale Roma where I met my daughter who was there serving an internship at the 2019 Venice Biennale.
So although I still have not ridden a gondola, they continue to fascinate me…
It’s possible, as one walks alongside a canal, to glance up from your thoughts and be surprised by one gliding by, silent and serene, mere footsteps away.
It is also possible to be flabbergasted by the gargantuan size of a cruise ship as it lumbers through the lagoon.
Similar to New York City’s new Super Tall skyscrapers, they appear gawky, out of place, and — with last summer’s near cruise ship collision, — dangerous and unnecessary. This two-minute video shows the mammoth size of one of these cruise ships as it creeps along the Zattere waterfront promenade in the Dorsoduro sestiere.
On this Easter Sunday, my thoughts turn to the redemption and salvation provided by Jesus Christ, and our visit three years ago to one of the most beautiful churches in Italy, the Basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna.
These aren’t paintings, but mosaics made of thousands and thousands of tiny glass tiles known as tesserae. The gold tesserae are actually two clear glass tiles that sandwich a layer of gold leaf. The entire surfaces of these walls are mosaic; the only areas that aren’t mosaics are the windows and the marble columns. | Photo: Katherine Yung
Here’s a scenario: Your daughter requests sprinkles on the Easter cupcakes you’re baking. However, pretend the shaker needed to sprinkle on the dotted decorations has not been invented yet, and the only way to get the sprinkles perfectly placed and evenly dispersed on the cupcakes is not by scattering them with your fingers, but by applying them one by one… with tweezers perhaps.
Photo: Unsplash
Adding sprinkles to the cupcakes now will take days, weeks or longer. The task will be one of…
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Marilyn Yung 