Lauri, one of my closest friends, called to ask if I’d like to celebrate her birthday with a hike and a bonfire. There is nothing my main IG and I love more than spending  few hours in the endless woods and farmland around her house. The day was  beautiful, and made even more beautiful by the fact that we knew the end of November should not be this gorgeous.

My mom called a couple of weeks ago to see if I wanted to go with her to our local art museum to see an exhibit  of Georgia O’Keefe paintings. She and I don’t often get to spend time doing artsy things without other people around rolling their eyes and asking if we are ready to go yet, so I jumped at the chance.

I love our museum, it used to be the main post office, built at the heart of the art deco movement as a WPA project, and rescued a few years ago from an almost certain future as a parking lot. I used to work across the street and would go over and hang out in the magnificent lobby when I needed inspiration, or to feel like I wasn’t living in the most backward place in the world.

Well…if you are a big fan of O’Keefe, you are probably going to feel a little short changed by this exhibit. There were a few of her lesser known works, and lots of her contemporaries who were also championed by Steiglitz.

The bonus was tucked away upstairs. The upper gallery had an exhibit called Twilight Visions: Surrealism, Photography, and Paris. Man Ray, Eugène Atget, Brassaï, Hans Bellmer and André Kertész…it was like they curated it especially for me. I was in heaven.

There were amazing, gorgeous shots of Paris, early attempts at what can be done so easily now with Photoshop,  and a fair selection of those surrealist photos of, for instance, a naked woman with a dead fish in place of her head.

Outside the surrealist photography there was a guest book on a stand, and this sign above it.

And this comment*, by someone who was apparently not a fan of surrealist imagery.

* it says, People were nasty.

My Black and Blue Sage is still going strong, as though it feels like since it is the last thing blooming it should really try and pick up the slack for the rest of the garden. There is one last bright yellow butterfly still hanging around, unwilling to leave the buffet. Haven’t managed to catch a shot of that one. Maybe I should go out and shout “Last call!” Or, in case he’s British, “Time, gentlemen!”

And this face in the window  tells me I have been working way too long.

Someone is ready to come inside.

On the road to the lake house where we stayed, there is the most fabulous garden center. It’s called Solar Gardens. They were closed for the season, but Swapna sweet talked the owner roger into giving us a tour. I don’t think Roger requires a lot of persuading, because he took us through the whole place and let me take hundreds of pictures. I can only imagine how gorgeous this place is in the summer. It was beautiful even with most of the stuff packed away for the winter. They only do succulents, and I could spend days wandering around watching the light change on the blossoms and leaves. Hmmm….perhaps they need an official photographer?

I dashed off for an all too quick visit to my friend Swapna in Saskatoon this past weekend. I was one of very few people on the plane not going specifically to kill something. I was surrounded by guys in camo discussing which lodge they were staying in, and who got the biggest trophy buck last year, and how much they were paying for the privilege of traipsing around in the woods wearing very unflattering clothing. General consensus was four to five grand. One guy had been making the annual trip for 54 years. I finally had to ask what it was they were hunting. I was expecting moose or elk or caribou.

“White tailed deer.”

“Pardon?”

“White tailed deer.”

“Seriously? You paid five grand and flew all this way to hunt white tailed deer? I could shoot one of those in my front yard for free.”

Anyway, the merry hunters and I parted ways at customs. They went to sit in the cold with similarly dressed folks and freeze their hindparts off. I went here, where my hindparts were toasty warm.

This lake house belongs to a friend of Swapna’s parents, and he generously offered to us for the weekend. It is a fabulous time capsule of a perfect 70’s party pad. We were in heaven. There were fondue sets, highball glasses, heated serving trays, and every thing you could possibly need to entertain in style 40 years ago. If the Brady’s had a lake house, it would have been this place.

The views were amazing. When we weren’t lounging in front of the fire, we were staring out the wall of windows. The sunrises were incredible. So were the sunsets, and the moon rises, but I didn’t bring a tripod, and there might have been a fair amount of wine.

Look closely at the photo up there. See that little dot to the right of the evergreen? Out at the edge of the ice? (Yes, that’s ice. The lake is already starting to freeze. I think those hunters are nuts.)

A beaver! Oh, the cuteness. He sat there on the ice munching on sticks all morning.

Could it have been more perfect? Well, there could have been a hunky houseboy fetching our firewood, but other than that…

It’s nice when you find a kindred spirit, someone who doesn’t look at you as though they might need to run a quick background check when you suggest that they meet you in the cemetery for breakfast. Athena and I got together at one of my favorite haunts yesterday to enjoy the fall weather and take a few photos of her most recent creation. How fabulous is this doll? I think she is incredible. She’s available at Athena’s etsy shop. Click the photo to have a look.

I truly love old cemeteries. I have spent many pleasant hours amongst the tombstones.

Some people are put off by blatant mortality as far as the eye can see. Understandable, I suppose.

I can’t think of a better way to spend All Soul’s Day.