I decided to choose this -- of all mornings -- to get out to take photos of the sunrise over Lake Superior. Not only was it an overcast morning (which meant not much of a sunrise), but also incredibly cold. As I was heading up the hill towards home, I stopped to try to take some photos of crocus buds with drops of rain still on them. They were growing between the sidewalk and a stone wall, upon which stood a house with a yard full of various plants and interesting walkways.
As I was trying to take photos of the crocuses, a lady came out of the house to dump some water or something. "It's rather early to be trying to catch the crocuses in bloom," she said. I explained to her that I was just trying to catch the dew on the buds, but it wasn't working out so well. She then pointed up into the yard and told me that she liked the heather as it is usually the first to show signs of life in the Spring. So I carefully tried to avoid the sleeping crocuses at my feet and placed my little tripod on top of the wall. It was a rather tricky shot as there was a metal (maybe iron...I can't recall) fence at the edge of the wall. Then the woman said, "You're welcome to come up and take a look around." So I did...but was only brave enough to stick to photographing around the area near the fence. By this time, my hands felt like ice. So I thanked the nice lady and headed towards home.
The painted ladies gather on the hill, Like disapproving grannies watching over careless children, Pondering their uncertain parentage. Mondern mongrels with no concession to style or grace. Function over form, a sign of bad breeding. Queen Victoria knew this just wasn't done. But the younger generation has never heeded Its elders and betters.