Every Dog's Dream . . .

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Had just gotten into my car this afternoon after exploring the cemetery behind the wall here. Was about to drive off, when I glanced in the mirror. A flash of red drew my attention, like a bull goaded by a matador. I suddenly had a vision of every dog in the neighborhood stopping by here and lifting a back leg ! Every dog's dream.
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Yes, I admit, it's a bit banal as reflections go. But it will have to do (as in : doggy do !) for today. Now, if you have a dog, tell him or her to come take a look, let's get some tails wagging around the world ! Woof !!! For James' Weekend Reflections... And there is actually a double reflection here, can just see a small splash (that flowing water image again !) of red in the side of the car.
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Down By The River . . .

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What a crazy few weeks it has been. January is usually a quiet month at the straightjacket factory. But somewhere in the middle of the month things started going haywire. We got an order for 200000 straightjackets from the Ministry of the Interior in Tunisia. Then a week later we got another huge order for one million straightjackets from the Egyptian Bureau of Internal Affairs. This is the equivalent of our usual annual production. This explains why I haven't been around to your blogs these past several days, nor updated my own much. I've been busy trying to outsource subcontracted production of straightjackets from Haiti to Malaysia to China. We've had inquiries from the governments of Yemen, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon. We were already doing brisk business with most of the industrialized world, where, for reasons at present poorly understood, more and more people are losing their marbles, but this latest round of collective upheaval caught us by surprise. We will of course rise to the challenge. We cannot allow people requiring the protection of a straightjacket to go un-jacketed. It's going to be a very good year for straightjackets I believe. Let's uncork a bottle of bubbly now to celebrate, what ?
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In the meanwhile, to try to clear out the mind the other day, and forget about the madness for a moment, la Grenouille and I set out to take a very quiet walk down along the banks of the Oise River, despite the bitter cold of a winter afternoon. We had barely stepped out of the house when I spotted a lifeless bird at my feet, camouflaged against the brown gravel with his brown feathers. The victim of some violence I fear. Most probably a cat.
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We got to our setting off point by the river, and took a quick look inside the lobby of the Hotel de l'Oise, which I'd never set foot in before, although I did a post about it a while back, which you can see here. In the vestibule there was a framed copy of a story which appeared in Paris Match magazine in the spring of 1991. The caption under the photo of Jim Morrison explains that the Oliver Stone movie about the Doors would soon be released in France, and mentions that 20 years previously, on June 28th, 1971, Jim and Pamela Morrison sat at a table in front of the Hotel de l'Oise, in the town of St Leu d'Esserent, and drank a beer. Five days later Jim died in the bathtub of his Paris apartment. So it's been nearly 40 years that Jim has been sleeping in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. His music lives on.
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The river was oblivious to all, was just minding its own business, that of flowing, reflecting light, murmurring.
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On the path along the river's edge, a magnificent dog came racing toward us at an unbelievable speed. It turned out to be a Spanish Greyhound, which are much larger than plain Greyhounds. He had certainly the longest nose and longest neck I ever saw on a dog. I thought he might be part giraffe. He'd make short work of our cats I suspect.
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A navigational aid for river traffic, could maybe help riverside walkers also navigate the years of their lives.

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I don't know what the botanical name of this plant is, but it is quite common in these parts. With the setting sun behind it, I stopped to take a closer look, and was simply floored by the beauty in its curving forms.
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Nature goes to such incredible lengths to produce seeds and the means to spread them far and wide, on the wind, or clinging to a passing animal's fur. "Wildflower seed in the sailing wind..." !
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No, nature never ceases to amaze, with her subtle forms and shining light.

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I wouldn't want to forget a visit to James' Weekend Reflections to present these tree trunks on the water, for whatever they may be worth. Nothing fancy.

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Dogged . . .

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With the summer winding down and all, and back to school happening, etc, Lynne just did a post with the title "Dog Days of Summer", so I thought I'd echo that, with a couple of wild hounds seen out in Brittany this past summer... Yes, summer, past, history, heading into Fall, one of my favorite times of year, if it's not too chilly. The dogs are on summer's heels, on the chase . . .

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I think the red stains on his cheek were traces of the last tourist who got too close . . .

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Another Dog Day Afternoon . . . Or... Remedy for Heat Wave

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Out for a walk just the other afternoon, admiring the primroses on the Place du Chateau, and looking a little dubiously at the rather green water, wondering if green water is suitable for reflections, given that it is almost Friday and will soon be time for James' Reflections weekend . . . There was indeed a bit of a green around the gills reflection. . .
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But then I suddenly realized that not only was the water a rather brilliant green, but that it was inhabited with life, and the life in the water was swimming toward me. . .
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And it wasn't alone !
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What could be more thoroughly serious than, "Stick... get the stick ! Swim at same time, but get the stick !" ? Total concentration on that furrowed brow . . .
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Talk about making a splash !
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Our cat Amande just shook her head when she saw these photos . . . and went off in a huff . . .
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Standing on a Corner . . .

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Standing on a corner
(not in Winslow, Arizona)
Holding up a Stop sign
Watching the traffic go by
In front of a run down place
Nothing much to do
Nowhere to go
A generation of bored
Illiterate, uncultured
Ignorant of history
Raised on video games
And television
But what's left to say
That hasn't already
Been said
A million times over ?
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So walk away
Take it easy
Not to worry
Things can't help
But get better
Ain't that right ?
Heading for the bar . . .
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A Day to Remember . . .

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This past Easter Sunday, the 4th of April, through a series of coincidences (as with most things in life) and a little bit of collective will, the authors of five blogs found each other in the long line of people waiting to get into the Maison Européenne de la Photographie to see, on its last day, the exhibition of photographs by Elliott Erwitt that had been runninng there since early February. The expo was titled "Personal Best", and encompassed over sixty years of Erwitt's fabulous photography. It was a real treat so see Erwitt's photos presented so beautifully in very large format prints, in such a lovely setting, and with such excellent company. Erwitt's photos were simply stunning . . .
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© Elliott Erwitt / Magnum Photos
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This next of Erwitt's was among my favorites . . .
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There were people dressed in black and white looking at these black and white photographs of people looking at pictures at an exhibition . . .
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I couldn't help wondering if Elliot Erwitt might have had in mind a title for this next photo of his something like, "Horse & Horse's Ass" ?
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Also being exhibited in parallel with the Erwitt show was an awesome exhibition from Philippe Bordas, with a selection of photos from over 20 years in Africa, of a rare emotional power. . . this gentleman was wearing a rather large snake around his neck . . .
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© Philippe Bordas
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The Philippe Bordas work included a long series of wrestlers and other athletics shots from Africa . . .
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A fellow blogger was caught here photographing one of Bordas' luminous portraits. They simply glowed. Although not very visible in this image, the person holding the digital camera here was none other than Nathalie, of Avignon in Photos . . . more photos with her below . . .
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This next is of course the delightful author of Spit & Baling Wire, who shall remain un-named here, (unless she says I may) but who goes by the nickname "The Pliers". A joy to see her again after meeting her for the first time at the airport when she finally arrived for good in France. And she came in the good company of her husband, and his brother and sister as well. Her smile is perhaps the most contagious I've ever seen on anyone . . .
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The third blogger present that fine afternoon was Peter, of Peter's Paris, an amazing blog in which he provides beautifully detailled accounts of his un-ending strolls through Paris. Pictured here with Nathalie who was dressed in red that day (see her photos of people in red on her blog) . . .
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This next portrait of Peter was taken by Nathalie, who very kindly sent me a copy . . .
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The next two shots of Peter were taken by myself. Unfortunately I don't have a photo of the fourth blogger who was present that afternoon, but I can only recommend that you visit Catherine's blog The Five Of Us, which is brimming over with humorous stories about life, illustrated with many funny photos . . .
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And it was Peter who took this shot when Nathalie wasn't looking, thus catching the fifth blogger of the day . . . Mr Toad of the Magic Lantern, camera in hand . . .
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After the photo expo we all piled into a nearby café for crepes and cider or other refreshments, where this odd piece of art (?) adorned the wall . . .
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As we had just come out of Elliott Erwitt's show which featured several of his unforgettable dog photos, I couldn't resist doing a couple of dog portraits in the nearby streets . . . which I can only dedicate to Jilly of Riviera Dogs, who is a friend of Nathalie's, and would have been here that day I'm sure if she could have . . .
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If you are interested in seeing the photos which Elliott Erwitt selected as his Personal Best, I can only recommend you make a trip to Amazon.com where the exhibition book of the same title can still be found.
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The Rites of Spring . . .

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There have been quite a few posts around the blogosphere of late about the joyous arrival of Spring, after what was, for those in the northern hemisphere anyway, a rather arduous winter, with memorable blizzards and frigid cold spells which left us all wondering about the reality of global warming. And celebrate we should, for Spring is indeed a wondrous time of year; why not indulge in multitudes of glowing, brilliant, luminous photographs of flowers under dazzling azur skies ? Why not actually go outside, get away from the computer screen, and inhale the heady odors of the real thing ? Ah Spring, hope springs eternal ! All sorts of flora and fauna come out of hibernation, with a spring in their step, a gleam in their eye, and bubbling with invigorating thoughts in their minds, yes, vivid, vigorous thoughts of reproduction.
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And I would not have been the roving reporter of all things strange and fabulous whom you are counting on to bring you something just a little bit different had I not produced this photographic essay when the opportunity arose, and arose, and arose again . . .
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All I can say is, I hope he took her out for a good dinner later, and offered her a big bouquet of Spring roses . . . Heaven help him, one can't help but marvel at his single-minded persistence, and her epic stoicism; this series of photos spanned at least half an hour . . .
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A spectator watched from a first floor balcony, running back and forth, wishing he could get into the fray . . .
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Dead End Street . . .

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If I may toss out one more dog portrait for your consideration, I liked this grizzled old fella's pointy ears . . .
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And could imagine him living in a house like this one . . .
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French for "Dead End Street" is "Voie Sans Issue". Those houses seemed to be at least on a figurative dead end street . . .
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