I’ve spent the past few days holed up in my former home sweet mountain bubble (Nelson BC, that is). Here are a few self-portraits of the end of a beeeyoootiful end of winter beach day.
Yesterday I mentioned how much I love the music venue the Ymir Schoolhouse. If you’re curious about the town of Ymir itself I happen to have a few facts & snowy winter photos for you.
Ymir is an old BC mining town founded in the late 1800′s and is currently home to approximately 200-300 residents. It’s located in the West Kootenays between Nelson & Salmo (where Shambhala is held).
And now that you know the hard Wikipedia facts you should also know there’s going to be a killer one day music and arts festival there on June 16, 2012 (featuring Maria in the Shower, Steve Brockley Band, E.S.L, and more). Check out the Tiny Lights Festival here.
Ymir’s main street.
The Goods – Ymir’s general store & cafe – almost completely buried in snow.
Hotel Ymir – Built in 1896 & rumoured to be a former brothel.
I present these photos as evidence why it often pays to pay no heed to signs that say things like: “Private Dock – Keep Off“.
Someone told me the other day that cabin living is making me far too healthy. After browsing through my recent accumulation of self-portraits I think they might be right, but I’ll let you decide after looking at them yourself.
So, when I’m not running around near Rosebery like a headless chicken with a camera it’s quite likely you’ll find me doing one of the following:
My classtacular apron and I have been on an awfully domestic streak. Once you get past me trying to feed you a wooden spoonful of fresh baked granola you’ll notice the breadmaker on the counter which is busy making me a loaf of starchy goodness.
Mowing the lawn is quite possibly my least favorite household activity of all time. This may stem from one particularly ill-fated summer a few years back when a manfriend and I attempted to have a lawn maintenance company only to discover the ol’ physical labour and I aren’t so compatible. In any case, I stand firm that lawns are silly and salute anyone who has turned their yard into a haven free of such a thing.
But, I accidentally said I wouldn’t mind doing it and because I discovered the novelty of a manual reel mower I thought perhaps I’d give my relationship with lawn mowing another try. I’ll admit it was actually pretty fun at first … until my puny arms started aching, my palms started bruising, my fingers started blistering, and I learned that although environmentally friendly, the manual reel mower takes approximately half a lifetime longer than the lean, mean, motor powered machine I also despise.
On the other hand, having afternoon sun naps is quite possibly one of my favorite household activities of all time. The cabino just so happens to have a glorious daybed perfect for doing so. I know I’m not napping in the second photo, but I had to take it after I realized I was reading a hunting magazine … mostly because I saw an article entitled Timberdoodle Treasure Troves and the alliteration made me curious about the creature.
Front Porch LoungingThe front porch bench is the stuff lazy little moments of lounging are made of. It’s my favorite place to practice the art of lacktivism and has also assumed the role of my dining room table.
The lake is a tease. Without fail, anytime I’m inside the lake will throw a new visual surprise through the window that sends me frantically diving for my camera and tearing out of the house faster than I can put my shoes and pants on. You may notice I am wearing shoes and pants in the following photos, but that’s because in both of these instances I was on my way home from a morning photo walk when the lake said “Come admire me!” like an attention-starved woman.
“Why bathe indoors when you can bathe outdoors?“, is what I always say. Actually, that’s a lie, I’ve never said that. But I do like to do it whenever I have the chance, and I’ve had lots of chances lately.
Once again I was up and out with today’s first light. To emphasize the phenomenon of my recent early rising, here is a comment left by a friend in response to the Adventures With The Buttcrack of Dawn entry I posted yesterday:
“I am thoroughly impressed. Having van-dwelled, roommated (in a very non-mating kind of way) and worked together, I understand the extent of your am-phobia. Cabin living is making you far too healthy. Seeing the sun rise at the beginning of the day used to be for people who jogged. Please tell me you haven’t taken up jogging. Because there is integrity in rising at the buttcrack of dawn for the perfect photo. Jogging just sucks.”
I’m a pretty committed morning bed dweller.
I like hitting my James Brown Sex Machine snooze button, dozing in & out of dreams, reading, writing, and just generally hanging out horizontally as long as possible. Given this fact I’m a little shocked that for the past week or so I’ve taken it upon myself to check out the light on the other side of the tunnel. That is, I’ve been getting up at the buttcrack of dawn to chase the sunrise with my camera.
The photos below were taken this morning near the cabino I’m staying at in Rosebery, BC between 4:30 and 6:30am. Yes, you read that right … am. I can’t believe it either and now that I’ve made my dawn-treading confession I’m off for some serious snap action (short nap, that is).
You're perusing the phlog of Canadian soul-stealer & light-painter Jodie Ponto. Her website lives here: www.jodieponto.com.
