Skip to main content

Spokes in the Snow

Last week I drove around Parma in the snow for about 20 minutes looking for a bicycle to photograph. I thought it'd be fun to document the life of a bike in the Cleveland winter.

I had no luck that day.

However, Sunday we had gone to eat breakfast at Lucky's in Tremont and this spunky little thing was parked outside. Of course I didn't have my camera on me at the time.

Yesterday after work I took my chances and drove back to see if it was still there. It had looked like the snow was banked on it pretty good on Sunday - I figured I might get lucky. And, I did!!

I love bikes. I love blueish-greeny teal bikes even more. I'm really happy I drove back.

Here are some of the shots in a collage.

Posted by Picasa


cp said…
good for you! i love this.
lindyloo said…
Ha ha ha. I did the same thing with a couch earlier this week. It was like the perfect picture, all propped up sideways against a telephone pole in the snow, but I saw it early in the morning before there was enough light to get a good picture. So then I went back the next day, and it was still there, but there was all this garbage set out in front of it, ruining the photo. I hate that.

Btw: we must've just missed each other on Sunday, 'cause I was up there with my bro & mom.

Popular posts from this blog

The knowing.

You settled into my dream. Stared me from my sleep. And told me it was time for a birth.  I asked if I could stay by your side.  A tender “no” was pushed from your lips. I stood to leave while the others danced around me. Your fear and my rejection walked me out of that dream.
That morning, grief was born. It poured from my body for 7 straight days.
You ghosted my life with coffee, clowns, and diamonds - A knowing that slipped between us. Then a person of your making began to stain my thoughts. He received the words I couldn’t say to you. And we connected over the beauty and pain you left behind.
We both miss your song.

Impaired Judgement

I live a life of impaired judgement. That’s why the wildest flowers rush to bloom in my arms. And stories filled with truth boom inside my ears. Your stories. His. Hers. And, my stories.
I can’t sleep with all these rules. The air is too thin. I want to learn to thrive in the thick of it. And, melt magnificently in the heat of it.
Unravel and tangle into all new knots. Find a way to slip through the cracks and expand to create space. Experiment with a stance that is completely still and strong. Then, crawl desperately towards the feet of everything I am afraid of.
Thrash around. Kick up dirt. And, rise again covered in messy, beautiful life.


Press the seed of this story just inside my lips
I will nurture it with warm breath and a low hum
Let it dance from the tip to the cup of this tongue
Then tuck it safe inside my cheek for later
When it's time to swallow it whole