Sun scorches the crumbly dirt. Leaves flit from branch to pile. The snow trickles across the slightly froze earth. Next, new buds burst from the soil. But across our planet, the timing for all nature's ebbs and flows is well, ebbing and flowing a little different these days.
For gardeners and farmers, this means a shift of the hardiness zones. These zones split the country up by 10 degree increments, letting a gardener know the pets plants for their area compared to others. The zones are feeling a little more heat these days. . . .
Confetti flits to the field as the Giants win Super Bowl XLVI. The day revolves around a football game, but for the rest of us who aren't keen on pigskins and clunking helmets, ads and cute polar bears made the Super Bowl worth a watch.
The Volkswagen commercials surpassed the rest for me. Mix Star Wars and cute dogs, and I deem you winner. The above commercial ran during the game, but here is a little teaser that came out a few days before, in case you missed it. . . .
Last weekend, Cole and I got all fancy, photographed Lied Center sponsors and soaked in the sights and sounds of the Black and White Ball. The evening featured art, food and a bit of dancing for all the Friends of the Lied.
Appearing for the newspaper, I dashed into crowd and dance floor to capture some fun images for the Community Matters page.
Eyeing the vault down the long, blue runway, she takes off at a sprint to throw herself onto a stationary object. When you put it that way, gymnastics sonds more crazy that exhilarating or graceful. Thankfully her footage won't be played on America's Funniest Home Videos, instead, it can flash on big screens with cheers to follow.
Doing what most people call dangerous or impossible is the name of the game in gymnastics. And, with the advantage of living in gymnastics, I get to witness college level gymnastics every few weeks during the gymnastics season. . . .
Flashy graphics and witty words develop on my screen after hours, days and months of planning. Not planning on my part always, but planning on the part of a group of interns and staff members who have hearts for teenagers. These TFC people that I speak of put on their armor each day and step into the middle and high school battlefield to create other TFCers.
Me, I get to sit miles away clicking around on a computer. I don't go on long van rides to rural areas of the country, listening to voices scream lyrics or screeches wail from prank victims. I don't have my bed duct taped to a roof or my pockets filled with rocks because some little seventh-grade girls thought it would be funny, (which it was). Instead, I am the designer behind the images these teens stare at as they await, enjoy and reminisce about TFC Camp. . . .
