Fisherman

I've had an unanticipated opportunity to observe a group of pelicans (alas, from afar) while I was visiting central Canada. They actively fished near a dam-turned-miniature-waterfall that, evidently, provided a decent haul. Below is one of the series which I'm currently processing. 

Good and Evil

Behold the ultimate good and evil, respectively, of the mushroom world. 

The scale? We, Slavs, enjoy foraging and cooking our haul, which means that we must know what to collect...

...and what to stay away from.

This Week in Mobile

This week in smartphone photography: I imagine myself on an international swimming tour (read: warm Canadian lakes take a bit of adjusting from from their cold glacial American counterparts), and mosquitoes can't keep me away from picking the largest wild strawberries I've ever encountered.

Green

A week in Canada's Middle of Nowhere wasn't supposed to be quite as nowhere-like, if it weren't for the unexpectedly lacking internet access. But despite (because of) that, it turned out productive: I caught up on some work ("Do I ever go on non-working vacations?," I must ask myself), and spent time with family out in the great prairie-meets-cliffs outdoors. With a camera—sometimes. 

And, naturally, had a few misadventures: allergies, painfully injured back, you name it.

Now, it's time to enjoy the partial benefits of civilization, process photographs, and, you guessed it, catch up on more work.

P.S. Can you smell the bug spray? :)

Water

Ah, yes, the place where I, a swimmer, nearly drowned years ago. So we meet again! 

P. S. Being "internet less," this blog won't be updated until later this week.

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The Path?

Today, I realized it's been a year since I defended my PhD in Modern History (accepted "as is," which is rare, might I add!). 

My degree had been mailed to my parents' house, and I have not even seen it till I visited them just a couple of weeks ago. It's a strange feeling to be so calm about something that has taken five years of one's life and so much external effort in terms of outside work, excessive coffee in the wee hours of the night, and barely existent sleep.

Occasionally, I smirk when see people's eyes fade rather shamelessly--as they lose interest--when I tell them that I left the academia and the urban environment, gave up my job in the corporate world, and moved out to live in the mountains. To them, I could've had the prestige of being an overpaid government bureaucrat or the glamour of a university professor teaching a popular, yet entirely useless Postmodern field!

Yet, instead I chose to translate and edit independent books, and engage in graphic design and image-creation in the middle of nowhere (stunning though it is).    

Despite the upbeat, sunny landscape, I don't know what the future could bring, nor am I an optimist. (You knew that already, because I'm Russian, and we're all brooding Dostoyevskivites through and through!) 

Nonetheless, right now, a year after the fact, this seems to have been the right decision. 

Perhaps, the latter explains my feeling of calm, or maybe it's just the result of another Rocky-mountain sunset.