Please let me know if this photo is too big for you to view!

Scattered throughout the grounds of Skylands are various statues. I only visited a few on my last visit. In one spot there is a ring of cherubs. I am not sure of what their significance is but each are holding either food or drink. Each one of their expressions is different. Haunting somehow. Time and weather have only heightened the effect.

This one was my favorite. Take a look at the bush with the red berries on it behind him.

Now take a closer look at the cup he is holding.

A coincidence that the red berries just happened to fall into his cup? (I had to scramble up on the wall in order to get this photo looking down into the cup.)

This piece demanded attention.

I loved the feathery tail modestly wrapped around his body.

Time has worn away their faces but they still dance on.

Before I go, did you notice the slight tweak to my blog? The larger format? The bigger photos?
Stay tuned for the final installment in this series: Butterfly and Busy Bees

I went to Skylands (New Jersey Botanical Gardens) the other day. It’s something I like to do at different times of the year. I was hoping for fall colors but they weren’t really around just yet. It’s pretty empty of people during the week unless they are having a wedding at the manor house. Which reminds me, have you ever caught the reality show Masters of Reception? It’s a show about a family of caterers based here in New Jersey and they use Skylands Manor as a venue for weddings all the time. It’s kind of fun to watch the show when it’s taking place only miles from your front door. I think they just aired the last show of the season but you can probably catch it on reruns. It’s actually pretty good. If you want to see real New Jersey people in action, this is it. Not Real Housewives of New Jersey! Except that I know many of the locations and restaurants that were featured on Housewives. Real locations. Not so sure about all the housewives. Some, yes. Others maybe not. But, I’m getting off the track here.

Skylands is a peaceful place of wide grassy lawns and plenty of places to sit and relax. Many exotic and different species of trees not indigenous to the area were brought here by the original owner of the manor house, and today they are all thriving.

It was supposed to be a sunny day but the sun kept going in and out of passing clouds, so I was a bit challenged photographically speaking. It was pretty breezy too with little micro gusts of wind at times, which is never good for trying to photograph flowers. But I clicked my camera to the sports setting and persevered. Some flowers were still blooming in their perennial garden.

I came across two women who were had their easels set up and were painting en plein air.

I asked one of them if I could take a peek at their work. She said sure. Her left hand was clutching five or six brushes loaded with different colors of paint; her right hand daubing paint onto the canvas board as we chatted a bit.

I told her how I wished I could paint and that my Father had been a really good artist but that I was disappointed I had not inherited his talent. In fact, that I had two left hands when it came to drawing and painting and such. Since her hands were already full she lifted her chin and gestured in the direction of the camera hanging from around my neck. She said “You take photographs though, right?” I nodded and said “Right, but it’s not the same.” She shrugged as if to disagree.

As I walked off and left them to their painting, I started thinking about what she had said and that maybe she had something there after all. I may not be able to draw or paint but I do express myself artistically through my photography. Bad or good, like them or not, my photography is as much an expression of me as a painting would be. What I see when I look through that camera lens and what other people see looking through the same camera lens may be very different things. The capture I end up with is uniquely mine. Sometimes my fingers itch to commit to paper a certain scene or flower but they never follow through. They just don’t deliver. The camera does. The world is my canvas, all the things in it are my paints, and my camera the brush.

Such a strange title, is it not? This post is all the fault of Becky over at Iron Needles who is in the midst of Blogtoberfest. Her post the other day (which can be found here) included a discussion on Q-Tips and it made me think about something I had not thought about in years. When I read her post I immediately thought about my high school years and how my Father was always telling me I had cornered the market on Q-Tips. I can see him shaking his head in disbelief at the mascara-blackened Q-Tips discarded in one big messy pile on my vanity table. I was, in short, a Q-Tip slob.

The reason being, of course, was that I used them in my make-up repertoire. I am lucky to be blessed with long eyelashes. In high school I played that feature up to the hilt. Each morning I could be found seated at my vanity table in front of my lighted makeup mirror (who uses those things anymore?) layering on the mascara and painstakingly separating the lashes with a lash comb. In the process of using the lash comb I would plaster my mascaraed eyelashes against my eyelids to better separate them. And there lies the reason I used so many Q-Tips— had to get all that mascara off my eyelids! I must have used ten Q-Tips per day. Multiply that times 7 days a week and you have a lot of Q-Tips. Why I didn’t throw them out when I was done with them I can’t tell you. But I didn’t. They just accumulated.

I racked my brain thinking of old photos of me that might prove my point. (About the eyelashes, I mean, not the pile of used Q-Tips.) I finally remembered my senior photo that was taken for the yearbook. I took off for the basement with the goal of finding those old yearbooks. Our basement is a mess, have I ever mentioned that? What we didn’t completely unpack when we moved here three years ago has been rummaged through time and time again. I managed to find them in a box marked “Lynne’s childhood memories.” Here is the photo but it’s way too small to see any detail.

I thought some more. Hmm ... seems to me I had seen the bigger, color version of that photo somewhere not too long ago. My baby book maybe? Yes. There it was. Perfect. Bless you Mom for keeping all this stuff together.

Look at those eyelashes! No, they are not fake. I wouldn’t kid you about a thing like that. They look a bit ridiculous now, but hey, it was the 70’s. Need a closer look at all that goo? A lot of work (not to mention Q-Tips) went into that look. I am now wondering just how I got all that mascara off. Lots of Johnson’s Baby Oil I’m guessing ...

Becky I hope you are satisfied. Look what you made me do! I would never have thought about it if not for your post. But it brought back some memories of high school days and I had a good laugh reading inscriptions in my yearbook. Do today’s kids still sign yearbooks as if they are autograph books? All those people saying “don’t forget so-and-so” and of course now I can’t remember who so-and-so is anymore. One inscription got me laughing. At least my eyelashes had made an impression on “Dave” enough for him to give me the alias of “Lashes.”

I had to look him up. I don’t remember him very well except that he was really really tall. And nice. I think he played golf on the school team. He was also a year ahead of me. Here he is.

Nice sideburns, Dave! So, David Morrison, where are you now?

I still have long eyelashes but I only wear a modest amount of mascara on them these days. And, I still use Q-Tips to tidy up stray mascara. Old habits die hard I guess.

Here are the nuts that keep falling out of the trees. I don’t know what they are but this is the first year we’ve had them. Acorns, yes, usually tons of them, but these I have no clue. They don’t actually have an edible nut inside from what I can tell. Take a look and tell me if you recognize them. The green ones are freshly fallen.

I am not joking when I tell you I can hear them hitting the across-the-street-neighbors’ deck—even in the middle of the night. It can’t be acorns; they are too small to make that much noise when they hit. It’s very bizarre! We’ve lived here for three years and never had them, or at least not to this degree that they are constantly plonking down and threatening concussion if they hit you on the head. Very curious ...

That was the nut half of this post, now on to the recipe!

Last week’s distribution from our CSA included acorn squash. We made Rosemary-Scented Risotto in Acorn Squash Cups the night before last with one of them. It was delicious! Such a nice autumn dish. I just love any kind of squash.

The squash cooks in the oven for 45 minutes while you make the risotto.

Don’t be afraid of making the risotto. It’s easy! All it asks is just a hand to stir it and for you to pay attention to it. The recipe (if you follow the link) does not call for this ingredient but we think it’s important in a risotto. Vermouth.

And no, not for drinking, for adding to the rice as it’s first liquid to soak up. I think Julia Child was famous for tippling her Vermouth, wasn’t she? I prefer a nice crisp glass of Chardonnay by my side while I tend the risotto. Anyway, Vermouth is paramount in my opinion if you’re going to make a good risotto. Pour it on and let it soak it all up before starting to add your broth. Just stir and add more broth as it gets incorporated. Repeat until rice is done. When I am making the risotto I slip another splash or two of Vermouth into the broth about ten minutes before I think the rice will be done. Rick doesn’t, but I do. So I wonder why he always thinks my risotto tastes better than his? Was it that splash of Vermouth or was it just because someone else made it?

Ladle the risotto into your cooked squash halves and enjoy! We’ll be making this again soon.