nancyfordephoto: Old Order
nancyfordephoto: Ice Storm ~ Waterloo, Ontario (April 12, 2013)
nancyfordephoto: My heart was a home of darkened wood until you hung the mirrors and stained glass.
nancyfordephoto: The dream I had lingered in bed long after I awoke.
nancyfordephoto: When she opened his heart, she found several doors and a stairwell. He buzzed her in.
nancyfordephoto: Seagram Lofts (February 8, 2013)
nancyfordephoto: Bough down to Mother Nature. (February 8, 2013)
nancyfordephoto: The street was fading like an old photo.
nancyfordephoto: The blanket of snow did nothing to warm her heart.
nancyfordephoto: A blizzard came the day he left. Her tears had crystallized.
nancyfordephoto: Ontario yellow brick
nancyfordephoto: The house smiled a somewhat crooked smile. She had grown up there and it tried its best to welcome her. But hers had been a strange childhood. She put the car in reverse.
nancyfordephoto: Held Over
nancyfordephoto: shadowplay
nancyfordephoto: Hockey Night in Canada. Not. (-25 avec Windchill)
nancyfordephoto: The carriage receded. My heart was in my throat. I swallowed. And turned left for the airport.
nancyfordephoto: He could feel her eyes on him through the window. So intense was her gaze, he began to tune himself. She mouthed the words, "Don't fret," and they both laughed.
nancyfordephoto: As she neared the glass, the trees inside the house began to awaken and glow. She had found the right place. Now, how to break in...
nancyfordephoto: global warming woes
nancyfordephoto: In the late afternoon, The Sun would grab an espresso. The staff would don shades and recommend something more caffeinated for The Moon to help her last the night.
nancyfordephoto: On Silver Lake
nancyfordephoto: Seagram's
nancyfordephoto: winter triptych
nancyfordephoto: The message said to gather here. While the geese await a further signal, storm clouds form.
nancyfordephoto: Below, what was left of the populace peered upwards as The Cloud cleared its throat to speak.
nancyfordephoto: Survival had proven an unexpected gift. They would wait until moonrise to surface.
nancyfordephoto: My longing stretches out before me. It is ironclad. It winds and bends. And becomes lost frequently.
nancyfordephoto: The Morning Light sat in the tree and swung her legs. "I've been dating Haze lately," she confided, "but I'm still in love with Fog."
nancyfordephoto: After The Oil Warring, people began to travel by horsepower again. And better to travel during daylight. Fog could prove risky...
nancyfordephoto: Leaving her was like crossing tracks. All perpendicular, and headed in the wrong direction.