by Gary Gardiner | Apr 15, 2013
It’s that time of year when the colors seem more vibrant than normal. I’m of the opinion that it’s an illusion only because we’ve just left behind the dull tones of winter and any color other than a monotone gray is cause for celebration.
And celebrate, I did.
I spent the better part of an hour on a short stretch of street in Uptown Westerville watching how the light and clouds moved over a series of Japanese Magnolias at the peak of their spring blossom growth. There was little, if any, petal drop from the old trees that stood taller than their accompanying houses. In full bloom displaying the pinks and purples blossoms from their first growth of a new season their colors dominated the street.
Cars hurrying to pick up kids at school slowed, runners slowed their pace turning their heads to the fertile plumage, and dog walkers allowed their charges to slightly stray when burdened by the beauty of spring.
There were other markers of spring along and near the street. Lawns mowed in front of homes bearing the patriotic colors of flags. Bradford pears brightening the horizon with white blossoms. Collections of small red buds and white plum shrubs and trees dotting yards. Each color marking the powerful surge of spring as the earth renews itself in a splash vibrant color.
by Gary Gardiner | Apr 15, 2013
It’s that time of year when the colors seem more vibrant than normal. I’m of the opinion that it’s an illusion only because we’ve just left behind the dull tones of winter and any color other than a monotone gray is cause for celebration.
And celebrate, I did.
I spent the better part of an hour on a short stretch of street in Uptown Westerville watching how the light and clouds moved over a series of Japanese Magnolias at the peak of their spring blossom growth. There was little, if any, petal drop from the old trees that stood taller than their accompanying houses. In full bloom displaying the pinks and purples blossoms from their first growth of a new season their colors dominated the street.
Cars hurrying to pick up kids at school slowed, runners slowed their pace turning their heads to the fertile plumage, and dog walkers allowed their charges to slightly stray when burdened by the beauty of spring.
There were other markers of spring along and near the street. Lawns mowed in front of homes bearing the patriotic colors of flags. Bradford pears brightening the horizon with white blossoms. Collections of small red buds and white plum shrubs and trees dotting yards. Each color marking the powerful surge of spring as the earth renews itself in a splash vibrant color.
by Gary Gardiner | Mar 31, 2013
Farm house on a hiil in Ohio farm country
There’s a lot of farm country near my daughter’s home north of Johnstown.
About two miles away on the crest of a small ridge sits an old farm house recently refurbished from a condition that showed years of abandonment and disrepair. It now has new siding, roof, a mowed front yard, cars in the garage, and is filled with the sounds of family.
What hasn’t changed is the wonderful perspective I get from the bottom end of the eastern rise of that small hill. The house, garage, and trees make near perfect stencil cut silhouettes against the setting sun and sky almost every time I visit.
The exact shape and color of the sky is always different. Sometimes, depending on the season, the sun sets directly behind the house, its bright orange orb dominating the frame.
Other days, like Easter Sunday, it’s the clouds that make the statement allowing the sun to splash its rays through the cloud edges casting inspirational rays across the land.
And, I’ve been there during rain, snow, corn too tall to see over, and drought so hot that the ground cracked and crops shriveled.
What is common about these moments, about the times I pulled a camera to my face, is the house on a hill. A house that is now a home and much more than a silhouette cutout.
by Gary Gardiner | Mar 31, 2013
Farm house on a hiil in Ohio farm country
There’s a lot of farm country near my daughter’s home north of Johnstown.
About two miles away on the crest of a small ridge sits an old farm house recently refurbished from a condition that showed years of abandonment and disrepair. It now has new siding, roof, a mowed front yard, cars in the garage, and is filled with the sounds of family.
What hasn’t changed is the wonderful perspective I get from the bottom end of the eastern rise of that small hill. The house, garage, and trees make near perfect stencil cut silhouettes against the setting sun and sky almost every time I visit.
The exact shape and color of the sky is always different. Sometimes, depending on the season, the sun sets directly behind the house, its bright orange orb dominating the frame.
Other days, like Easter Sunday, it’s the clouds that make the statement allowing the sun to splash its rays through the cloud edges casting inspirational rays across the land.
And, I’ve been there during rain, snow, corn too tall to see over, and drought so hot that the ground cracked and crops shriveled.
What is common about these moments, about the times I pulled a camera to my face, is the house on a hill. A house that is now a home and much more than a silhouette cutout.
by Gary Gardiner | Mar 21, 2013
There’s a good reason for the granite monument in the front yard of this home on Winter Street. The owner, whose family has lived in the home for several generations installed the slab to commemorate the Quackenbush and McLeod families who have lived in the house.
Not a lot more to tell unless you want to stop by and hear the story for yourself.
