When cats get writer’s block.



Say cheese.


The germs have had a long and impressive reign at our house.

As far as photos are concerned, I’ve resorted to cat portraits, because I don’t have to get out of bed to make them.


Three-quarters of this household’s members have been down and out with some variety of germ over the past week, so I’ve had no will/time/energy to shoot any photos/brush my hair/change out of my bathrobe. Only the man of the house has escaped unscathed (so far).

Plus, the sun hasn’t shone in what feels like a month, and that has resulted in a grumpy, pale, and unmotivated person (me).

But today is Thursday – time for Norm’s Thursday Doors – and I’m happy to share a couple of shots made last weekend, when the family visited our local arts centre.

On the way out of the gallery we wandered around the building, exploring. There are studios for pottery, dance and fabric arts, plus the gallery and gift shop. In our travels we came upon this odd exterior door, located on the interior of the building. Directly in front of the door is an open area with amphitheatre-style seating and to the right is a large floor-to-ceiling street-facing window. Because of the door’s height off the ground, right away I was reminded of the dreaded mother-in-law door… but after doing a little research I suspect that it was unlikely any mothers-in-law had been utilizing this door when it had actually been in use.


In 1922 the building had been constructed of limestone and yellow brick as the Public Utilities Commission, and served as such until the 80s. In 1990 half of the building was renovated as a seniors’ recreation centre, and in 2001 the rest of the building was converted into the Centre for the Arts, at which point I’m guessing the exterior door probably ended up enclosed in the new portion of the structure. One of my earlier Thursday Doors posts included a photo of an exterior section of the old hydro building:


The floating door, number 24, didn’t seem to budge (the kids tried), nor did anyone answer the sound of the door-knocker (they tried that, too, several times). In fact, one of my children turned the doorknob and pulled it clean out of its socket, at which point I stopped taking photos and decided maybe it was time to leave before we got kicked out for making mischief.


Let’s hope, for everyone’s sake, for the coming days to bring the return of the sun, the eradication of our germs, the replacement of my bathrobe to its hook, and the frequent depression of my camera’s shutter button.

Thanks, as always, for visiting.


I read this and this for the history of the building.



Washed up.

With Narami’s Tuesdays of Texture in mind, today I chose to share the decay of rusted chains encircling this log:


These images were snapped a few days ago – along with the slabs of ice in yesterday’s post – while I wandered the bank of a river that had flooded, and then receded, during a spell of earlier mild weather. This hunk of chained wood was one of many treasures, I imagine, expelled to the shoreline by the swollen river.


I don’t know anything about waterways, but I’m guessing that this is some sort of boom – an intentionally-placed barrier in the river to help contain, in this case, debris or driftwood. The site of the washed-up log is just upstream from a century-old dam.

The flood, coupled with giant hunks of floating ice, probably overpowered it this time. I wonder whether it’ll end up back in the water or whether its purpose has finally been served.


I loved all the hollows and grooves, the wood worn smooth, the muck and the slime and the rust. All the evidence of time passing.


By the way, now that I’ve noticed them in the photo above, I can’t seem to unsee the faces in the log. Does anyone else see them, or is it just me?

It’s probably time to go to bed before I start seeing more imaginary things. 😉

Thanks so much for visiting.