A Fantastic Fungus Among Us

I found this giant fungus growing out of a tree stump in a picnic area alongside the Gilkison Trail which follows the Grand River in Brantford, Ontario. The location is across the road from the Steve Brown Sports Complex at Lions Park. The facility hosts youth sports tournaments all summer long making it surprising that the specimen was relatively untouched despite the heavy foot traffic that would pass it when using the picnic pavilion. My luck because it was a fabulous photo opportunity.

Images were captured in May 2022 near the Grand River, Brantford, Ontario.
Equipment: Canon EOS 60D, EF70-200mm f/2.8L IS II USM.
Additional processing via Adobe Lightroom/Photoshop.

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography, All Rights Reserved.

The Omphalos

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The Omphalos

Bram didn’t fully comprehend the significance of his discovery. To him they were nothing more than aimless notions scrawled on scraps of paper. A whim to fill the empty spaces between the real work.

His mind could be relentless as it hummed along from one thought to the next without pause. Just another moment of noise when all he ever sought was silence.

Yet, the concept now existed, hurtling in all directions like an earthquake rippling outward from its epicenter. He was the Omphalos and they would be coming for him.

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Stomping My Woods on My Round This Morning

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The following is in response to Chel Owen’s Terrible Poetry Contest where we were asked to take the first line of a famous poem and then rewrite the rest as [the poet] see(s) fit. Bonus points if [you] use the original meter and rhyming scheme. My poem is a (terrible) golfer take on Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” except on the golf course in the morning. Hope you enjoy.

Stomping My Woods on My Round This Morning

Whose woods these are I think I know
Their place is on the golf course though
He Rory‘s up a Tiger tail
In anger bent and gave a throw

My little cart may think it Strange
To watch him stomp around insane
Swearing, cursing and Spiething nails
Please end this round and end the Payne

My caddy’s head begins to shake
As if to say it’s a mistake
Rolled up cuff, the language Fowler
As he wades right into the lake…

At the next tee, I’m Jacked to see
If I can hit the green in three
And now my woods wrapped ’round a tree
And now my woods wrapped ’round a tree

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Lamprocapnos Spectabilis

The Bleeding Hearts are in full bloom in the back garden. The luscious pink brings splashes of colour to dense green foliage. The second image is a multi-exposure composite of five bleeding heart images superimposed to create the abstract form above. The images were captured shortly after an early morning fog had lifted leaving the tiny droplets of water you can see on the foliage in the third image.

Images were captured in May 2022 in my backyard, Waterloo Region, Ontario.
Equipment: Canon EOS 60D, EF-S18-135mm f3.5-5.6 IS
Additional processing via Adobe Lightroom/Photoshop.

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography, All Rights Reserved.

New and Old

Remnants of last year’s Rose of Sharon seed pods cling to the end of a branch as new growth push through into the fresh spring air.

Image was captured in May 2022 in my backyard, Waterloo Region, Ontario.
Equipment: Canon EOS 60D, EF-S18-135mm f3.5-5.6 IS
Additional processing via Adobe Lightroom/Photoshop.

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography, All Rights Reserved.

The Human Race

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The following is in response to Fandango’s Provocative Question #165. The prompt is:
How do you feel about what is going on in the United States in regard to racism? Do you see any way of reconciling the concepts of White Replacement Theory and Critical Race Theory?

The Human Race

I identify as human, yes I have skin that categorizes me as Caucasian, my recent ancestors are of European descent and can be traced back to England, Ireland and France. That is how others identify me but I am human, we are all human.

As an outsider, I see the American race dilemma as an observer. I have a sister who moved and married in Texas and although I would not call her racist she and her family certainly represent conservative white America. From what I see that Trump supporting rabid white right is a scary place right now. Not from external threats but from within. Seemingly bright, educated people who have lost all perspective on reality.

Canada is not without our own racial discourse. Our treatment of Japanese Canadians during World War II and two centuries of oppression against aboriginal populations have been appalling.

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Buffalo

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In light of this weekends senseless massacre in Buffalo, New York, it still baffles me that in this day and age people can’t wrap their heads around the idea that we are all human beings, the same species down to our DNA. As a Canadian from the Greater Toronto Area, I have spent a fair amount of time in Buffalo. For several years my son played baseball for a traveling team based in Depew and we would cross the border two to three times a week. My heart goes out to the friends and families of those slain. As a city mourns I sincerely hope the slow and seemingly tenuous process of racial healing in the United States and around the world can continue in light of this heinous act.

Buffalo

A killer lurks
in the shadows.
Silently shedding
white hot anger.

A snake slithering
into the spotlight.
Spitting venomous
black hate.

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Up Next…

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The Bottom of Nine

Trailing by two in the bottom of nine,
A single, then double, stroked down the line,
On second and third they jostle about,
While eight and nine both swing and strike out.

Ace steps to the plate, set on a mission,
Wielding his bat with reckless precision,
Direct from the mound comes a red-stitched pearl,
Did he throw straight heat or spin up the curl?

Nary a twitch as it whizzes on by,
“Strike!” shouts the Umpire,
“Hey blue, check your eye!”
Not even close, ’bout a foot off the edge,
The Babe couldn’t hit that with a six-foot sledge.

Next comes a bender, left hung out to dry,
The crack of the bat, it’s a monstrous fly,
If it stays fair it’ll sail off in the night,
Instead, it drifts foul, a long and loud strike!

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Never Surrender

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Bombs rain down indiscriminately as sirens pierce the evening air.
A city set ablaze as it crumbles to the ground.
Plumes of grey and purple smoke rise into the red dusk.
A mother and her child dance through the streets.
Arms outstretched as the ashen sky falls like confetti about them.
Choosing to join the dead than ever surrender.

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Kite

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Kite

A dancing kite,
In its kaleidoscope flight,
A hallowed sight,
In the heavens tonight.

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