CN and Me: A Tale of Two (?) Reflections

                                                                                                                                          © Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I couldn't resist posting this untouched image of four different views of downtown Toronto. For tourists who journey to our vast country, either from their own exotic country or from a different corner of the same vast country) the CN Tower is a coveted view that simply must be securely packaged up inside their travelling camera. I suppose, however, that for those tourists who have become locals (like me) who choose to vigorously and enthusastically retain their tourist-like status of awe in their day to day excusions (like me!), the goal exceeds that of simply acquiring its likeness. We strive instead to compose an image of individuality, something that's a little different from the predictable postcard, something that allows one to examine the mighty tower from a different angle, or capturing something that perhaps makes one wonder where in the city that particular perspective would be viewable.... so how about it... any guesses??

Ottawa's Rideau Canal in February of 2009

                                                                                                                                                    © Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I decide against renting a pair of skates and instead give myself permission to enjoy the frozen Rideau Canal flatfooted. I am just content to be present in this invigorating city during their celebration of winter, drinking in the wondrous expanse of crystal clear blue and white, inhaling air so strikingly fresh that it speared at the inside of my nose upon greeting me this morning, a feeling that used to be routinely aggravating but that now makes me smile as I remember my Northern childhood. I close my eyes for a few moments, discerning the sound of refined steel blades slicing happily into the ice, gliding smoothly over its surface while leaving behind etchings of swirls and signatures.

In the summer, this is a fluid trail for canoes and ducks, as joggers and cyclists trace its banks in great numbers on welcoming manicured trails. But now, it has become the trail, providing an alternate route for those who wish to literally venture off the beaten path. Why not take advantage of something different, something that is accessible for only a few months of the year?

Ottawa's inhabitants vigorously embrace their outdoors, not only enjoying physical activity outdoors, but resting there as well, setting up huts and creating edible wares that waft their delectable smells to the masses, beckoning skaters to come take a break! After a long satisfying stroll, I succumb to the temptation and I buy myself a cup filled to the brim with one of the greatest concoctions known to winter: a steaming marriage of molten chocolate and earthy coffee. I scan the borderless cafe in search of an available chair, which is not immediately evident amidst so many enthusiastic Canadians. Finally, I locate a place to sit and be. I wrap my fingers around the piping hot receptacle and savour the rich flavours it is holding for me. I breathe deeply and revel in the feeling of spending my afternoon among so many like-minded beings, outdoors in the winter sunshine, my soft blue gloves waiting patiently for me on the carved wooden cafe table.

Along the beach at Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

I captured this one years ago, around the time that I started regularly wielding a single lens reflex and behaving like a wide-eyed eight year old kid in a frog-filled marsh. Nothing was (is!) pedestrian to me. I was enthralled with the abundance of little discoveries to capture on, at that time, film. Never mind functioning before the digital groove - I never limited myself when I was out with my camera, and shot whatever I knew I would enjoy viewing later!

It is always frigid at the beach in the winter, but on those rare days when the wind is sedated, you can sufficiently insulate yourself in a portable shelter of parkas and wool, enabling you to spend some quality time with the invigorating chilled air.

Having performed the above-mentioned layering ritual, I was enjoying the afternoon shooting ice glazed beach rocks, charismatic vanilla frosted wooden fences, and sugar-coated tree branches stretching out into the cerulean sky.

I didn't spy the critter that left behind this flurried evidence, nor did I attempt to coerce it into view; I simply kneeled down and took this picture. My favourite aspect of this image is not the tracks, however, it is the sparkle of the individual snow crystals, perched ever so delicately atop the more mature snow that had now fused into ground cover. It reminds me of quiet winter evenings growing up at home in Labrador, listening to the falling snowflakes, and reveling in the pure, glistening environment that instilled in me my love of all things winter.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Broadway Avenue! Manhattan

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

She saunters along Wall Street and then Broadway, apparently aimlessly, a pink and black shopping bag dangling from her right hand. One would suppose that she does have an eventual destination but is evidently uninterested in increasing her pace at this time. Blissfully unaware of the hoards of Manhattanites darting alongside the strands of traffic, she methodically places one stiletto before the other, her head slanted to one side, her left arm extended towards an stately, rugged fence that has been following her. She traces the bold but intricate pattern with a long, manicured finger, sliding it slowly along the ridges of black iron, caressing its rugged texture, at once smooth and etched. She continues to follow this massive collection of metal shafts and arches, allowing it to guide her along the sidewalk as her attention remains inward, her thoughts collaborating. She lingers in this fashion until her finger is feeling only the air, and she is snapped to attention upon reaching the end of the structure. She grasps the satin straps of her bag and quickens her pace, as if suddenly realising she has somewhere appealing to go and is now intent on arriving.

Stratford, Ontario in December

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

As we descend upon our placid aqueous avenue, we hear you complaining about the gelid wind as it brazenly slaps your cheeks and taunts your down-filled garmets into which you are desperately cocooned until the soft breath of springtime. Even on an afternoon such as this, refreshingly infused with invigorating air calmly hovering over a blanket of virgin snow, you are bothered.

We're not entirely sure that we understand this aversion to winter. Is this not the season that welcomes holiday camaraderie, lavish generosity, and lush displays of evergreens and holly? Is there something wrong with decelerated evenings spent surrounded by layers of quilted coverings and a like-minded individual?

Surely, there must be a few examples of your species who will unabashedly embrace this season for its exhilerating temperament and appreciate all of its bracing qualities. As a matter of fact, we see them, occasionally, meandering along the snow-crusted banks of our world, eagerly capturing photographs and exploring the nuances of our city as the evening rolls in. 

As for us, we revel in the changing of the seasons. Today, we're content to be flying over a pristine, uncluttered view enroute to our happy place, where we will congregate with some of our favourite winged creatures, as we do every evening.

Niagara Totem Pole and Wood Carving Park

Creations by Frank Kim 

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

"Hey everyone.. check it out.. it's that pretty lady with the dalmations again. Wow she looks devastatingly gorgeous in that stole; I wonder if it's new? This is the third time she's been here this week; she must really like us. I just can't seem to tear my eyes away from her. Is she not a vision, fellas... fellas?"

"Don't distract me with your meagre infatuations. There is a vexatious child at six o'clock making faces at me who thinks he's particularly clever. Please. I've seen more complex tauntings coming from an oak tree. Yeah.. you think that's amusing, kid? Watch this!"

"Guys.. that tickle is still there....I... I have to sneeze again."

Distillery District - Toronto, ON

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I shot this on the night that I learned how to use my camera.

I didn't own a tripod at the time so most of the handheld pictures I took were, to be nice, technically inadequate... the lines almost indiscernible, splaying all over the image with a complete disregard for aesthetics and reason.... the lights erratically exploding and dominating the image, completely altering the mood it was intending to portray. However, I have retained all of the shots from that night, even the duds, because they illustrate my foray into night photography, documenting my attempts at better understanding aperture and shutter speed and the intimate relationship they share. I am finally able to absorb and manipulate what my light meter has always been trying to tell me instead of brazenly overlooking it yet again. I just hope that it can forgive me for ignoring it all of these years.

My love affair with light was intensely elevated on that night and I do believe that it marked the beginning of a exquisitely renewed and potentially fruitful relationship with my Nikon.

New York City Subway

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Having been raised in a cozy Northern Canadian town with barely a highway, let alone a sophisticated underground system such as this, I was always intimidated by the word "subway". Putting "New York City" in front of it made it seem downright terrifying to a sheltered child. Actually venture onto a NYC subway? You might as well have suggested we navigate the expanse of Saudi Arabia by harnessing the nearest camel. (wait a minute... I have ridden a camel.... at Busch Gardens, I believe...)

But this was the year that New York City was removed from my imagination. It is no longer a notion in my head or a situation on a movie screen, I have my own memories of exploring Manhattan, and they do happen to include braving the jungles that exist far beneath the ashphalt. It was not at all terrifying; it wasn't even difficult.. to navigate or even to decide to travel upon it. When the sun is yawning and you have to get from Canal Street to Times Square quickly or else you won't get to see it on this trip, it just seems like the sensible thing to do!

This photograph was taken during a different excursion to the city, while awaiting a train that would bring us to the Staten Island Ferry to begin our day. We sat among obviously seasoned New Yorkers and equally obvious fellow tourists... across from the girl with the gold bangles adorning her wrist as she held on for stability... a few rows down from the kid who was comfortable not holding onto anything, expertly shifting his weight to maintain his balance on the erratically jerking ride.

A friend of mine was approached by a fellow who asked him what time it was, and when he complied, was heartily corrected: "No it's not, it's Doo Wop Time!!!" and with that, about four guys began to sashay around the crowd, weaving their own acapella in and out of our ears as they grooved around with Mount Everest smiles on their faces. Stuff like that never happened en route to the shopping centre back home!!

Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I think that if I lived near the ocean, I would find resolution to the issues that sometimes occupy my mind. Really, just looking this photograph induces a sense of calm that encourages my thoughts to wander about aimlessly like driftwood..  (too often in my real world, they become stranded like this as well!!)

There is just something about sitting on this pebbled blanket, listening to the waves spread over the rocks, moistening them with a sheen that illuminates all of their smoothness, that lulls me into a sort of meditation. It's such a satisfying stimulation of the senses: the percussion of the rocks dancing against one another under the pull of the receding water and the the cadence of the seabirds as they spread their nautical gossip..... the therapeutic pressure of the stones underneath bare feet.....  the heady scent of the foamy salt water and swatches of seaweed....   spa day anyone??

GE Building "30 Rock"
Rockefeller Center
New York City - April 2010

It is almost 6pm in the Big Apple and Otis Pretorious springs out of one of Manhattan's many yellow taxi cabs, carrying a tidy white package. He secures it against his body, protecting it as he swiftly enters the lobby, saluting the doorman on the way in. He smiles warmly at the two immaculately tidy young women gracing the front desk.

"She's still here, Mr. Pretorious," the one with the red hair says with a magnetic grin. "You're not too late."

"Tremendous!" Otis beams back, and disappears behind the mirrored elevator doors.

The numbered button illuminates under the pressure of Otis' index finger, and as he leans back against the smooth metal wall and inhales deeply, he realises that he knows his elevator companion.

"Otis Pretorious!" greets the stout, wire-bearded man heartily, extending his well-manicured hand. "How are things? I hope you're about to tell me that you had as good a day as I did!"

"Oh, I'm certain that's the case," Otis replies enthusiastically, accepting the handshake. "It's always a good day in this city. And it's about to get better!" He gently taps the parcel that he's been cradling in his hands.

"Of course it is," the man agrees. "But before you start celebrating, why don't you swing by my office so I can show you the most recent pictures of the grandkids?"

"You know I would love to, sir," Otis begins, "but I am already a little later than I'd promised I would be. Perhaps I could come visit you on another day?"

"Certainly!" the man exclaims. They continue to exchange regards as the elevator soars higher and higher. When they arrive at Otis' floor, the two men share another handshake and Otis exits, leaving the man to ascend to his office just a little higher up.

Otis walks through the orderly office, past the rows of quiet cubicles, having been deserted for the evening. He pauses and then takes a few steps backwards to align himself with the back of the tall brunette occupying the last cubicle in the row. She revolves her chair and smiles at her visitor.

"How are you Otis?" she asks.

"I'm doing well, thank you," Otis replies. "Things have been busy out west but I am very much enjoying the challenge."

"I know you will do great things," the girl responds. She pauses a moment, then asks, "Are you here to see Emily?"

Snapping back to reality, Otis firms up his grip on the box in his hands, and answers that he is. "I'm actually running late. Maybe we can have lunch sometime; I am in town for a week."

"Maybe we can," she nods. "Enjoy your evening, Otis."

Otis lingers for just another moment before heading toward the office adjacent to the cubicles. He peers in at the well dressed woman seated at the desk inside and taps softly on the door jamb.

Emily spins around, her face lighting up. "Otis! It's so good to see you!!" She rises from her chair and rushes to embrace him.

"Hey sis," he beams. "Great to see you too!" He surrounds her with his arms and then goes to open the box he'd been carrying, revealing a neatly decorated cake and proclaims, "Here's to our birthday!"

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

In Quidi Vidi Village by the seashore quite content a wooden box nestled in the green grass is painted red. The latch hook, archaic in its simply molded naked form was quite effective keeping out an errant hand or winter storm. I'd no idea what might be stored behind its weather-softened lid, but something useful judging from the marks the latch left when it slid. I don't recall exactly what this box was for or where it sat, I only know my thinking was I gotta take a pic of that.

Inniskillin Winery
Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario

Had I been aware of the charms that exist neatly tucked into your typical run-of-the-mill Niagara winery, I would have become a patron years ago!

Of course I am fully aware that there is no such thing as "typical" when it comes to the birthplace and residence of such a sophisticated passion as an estate's wine. They all have their own sultry nuances and historical flair, an eclectic indulgence that delights the eye as much as the palate.

It is almost too intimidating for me to write about, being a novice taster and all.

But hey.. it's my blog right?

So.. first of all, there is the beverage. That luscious, earthy, complex collaboration of flavours and sensory personalities that arouses your sense of smell and instigates revelry in your tastebuds. Thanks to enthusiastic winery tour guides, I am learning more and more about tasting techniques.. I now understand the benefit of swirling the wine in the glass before breathing it in before sipping it and swishing it around in your mouth before swallowing it... it's all about intensifying and recognising and savouring all the layers of flavour. Plus it's just plain fun!

And then there is the visual stimulation frequently in abundance at wineries.... lush parallel rows of green (or as is the case this time of year: yellow), rustic, etched wine barrels and gnarly, weathered vines. Upon arrival the eye is instantly greeted with a harmonious mix of the planned orderly and the naturally occuring.. eliciting deep satisfying breaths and long luxurious pauses that we may not permit ourselves to take during our daily routines... oh.. and I just "happen" to have had my camera with me...

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Docks at the Staten Island Ferry Port - New York City

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

All of the inhabitants of Manhattan are not hurriedly weaving around the avenues and streets, intermittently disappearing behind retail mazes and occasionally becoming one with the subway poles. Some of them, like the four shown here, are quite stationary, standing strong regardless of the weather or the waves to which they are constantly exposed. They reliably endure the largest storm of all which happens to occur regularly throughout the day, five days a week: the daily commute! After all these years they probably recognise the regulars, gingerly toting their laptops and their lattes while navigating the sea of suits, providing a constant stream of entertainment and gossip material. They bear their scars proudly, evidence of years of occupational abuse as they are scraped by the orange ferries upon every return to port. A tenacious greeting of wood and steel and fading yellow paint at the end of the day.

The Miniaturisation of Manhattan

View from Staten Island Ferry

October 2010

The original intention was to get a close up view of the Statue of Liberty without fees or lineups. We waited our turn, sighing at the expected time allocation upon viewing the large formation of people who shared our destination. However, as the crowd spilled out of the terminal and onto the dock like a herd of cattle assembling into the field, we realised there would be no delay; we were all going to get aboard at the same time!

I did see the Statue of Libery but I didn't expect to become mesmerised by New York City's majestic skyline! I took one photograph after another until I made myself stop and just watch. Watch as the water gurgled in our wake, watch as the distance opened up a wider and wider view of the coastline, watch as Manhattan grew smaller and tidier. With its logos and taxis and inhabitants diminished to obscurity, the city stands tall, methodical and placid, a smooth collection of architectural shapes rising out of its massive river blanket.

I imagine people who commute via these ample orange vessels derive a great feeling of calm at the end of a busy day, whichever side of her route they are leaving. I wonder if travelling by water allows them to more easily separate work from home thereby realising greater refuge from whatever vocation calls them away each morning. I like to think that they breathe a sigh of relief as they release the frustrations of their harried workday overboard, and watch as they are swallowed up by the water and left there to swirl away with the foam.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved



Distillery District - Toronto

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

The Distillery District in Toronto is a Victorian  pedestrian village brimming with everything that is hip and innovative. What used to be a thriving distillery operation in is now a sumptuous collaboration of cafes, galleries, shops, theatres, restaurants, and more. From the charismatic cobblestone streets that taunt your heels to the lavish building exteriors of jutted wood, grainy brick, and rugged stone, there is as much texture in its surfaces as there is in its cultural offerings. I have been wanting to go there and unleash my camera for some time now.

This past weekend, I finally ventured there.. at night, no less. You may wonder why I would choose nighttime to explore such a eclectic neighbourhood for my first time and be deprived of an unobstructed overview of all of its offerings. This wasn't originally my intention but it was either visit at night or visit during another excursion on another day, so without hesitation, I chose the former. Of course, it didn't take long to realise that this was a smart move. Now I have experienced the area in all of its nocturnal ambiance. I have seen just a hint of it, a glimpse, providing a sort of mystique that wouldn't be possible if daylight had previously revealed everything to me all at once..

The imposing structure above is now home to shops, one called Lileo, so identified. However, the map on the distillery's website affectionately refers to the original names of the buildings, identifying their reason for being, and provides the list of its current inhabitants in the legend. Thanks to this information, I now know that this is a photograph of what used to be The Maltings. Now as I read the names on the map, I recognised that many of the current business titles pay homage to their structures' original functions: Pure Spirits Oyster House is in the original "Pure Spirits" building, The Boiler House Restaurant where the "Boiler House" actually used to be... even Mill Street Brewery has a Tank House Ale tipping its hat to the tank houses, three of which still exist.

Quidi Vidi Village - Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Here, nestled in a quiet little corner of Quidi Vidi, lives a modest, sky blue house. The water laps at its web of long sun-bleached legs, like a constantly enveloping hug, dependable and familiar. Of course the ocean is not always as friendly as it appears on this particular day - at times it is quite tumultuous and barbaric, but the house does not hold a grudge. It just becomes stronger and more resilient.

This house is content just to be. It cares not what the birds think of its meagre roof, doesn't crumble under whispers made by grander, more refined dwellings, is amused by the fact that some of the watercraft gliding along on its watery front lawn consume more square footage than it does. Conversely, it probably has no inkling of the waves of tourists who delight in its presence, who clamour to capture its image as one more dimension of their East Coast experience, who revel in its hardiness. It doesn't mind either way. It derives enjoyment from the seasoning that the myriad of visitors sprinkle onto its day, providing a refreshed view at any given hour, and keeping life just right in its own patchwork of liquid and light.

Shot during a visit to the Steam Whistle Brewery in September 2010. Whether inside its historial home or browsing its surroundings, there was an abundance of photographic opportunities...

Are we viewing something in its usual environment or is it out of context?

Do you see tension or tenacity?

Is there too much focus or are there not enough elements in focus?

Can you assume that motion is about to occur or did we miss it already?

Did the scant application of paint take a few intentional hours of technique or countless candid years of exposure to the elements?

Are you the top hook or the bottom hook?

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Although this is a photograph I took last year in Newfoundland, it totally echoes the damp chilly air in Southern Ontario on this very day. I don't say this with disdain, however, I am just stating a fact. I am completely fine with weather that makes you want to cocoon with a chunky, homeknit sweater or any other warm, comforting mass of your choosing..

Contrary to popular weather reporting belief, not everyone considers an afternoon of diving temperatures and misty air fodder for complaint. Granted, I would not like every day to be like this. But that is precisely the point: I wouldn't want every day to be bright and sunny either. Some people say they would like to live down south and have summer all the time, but for me, the changing of the seasons not only elicit appreciation for each new one (and reprieve from continuous hot or cold temperatures) but each season brings with it something new to do/wear/eat/begin/etc. Is there not a sense of renovation at the start of the school year? A sense of renewal as we welcome spring?

George Street - St. John's, Newfoundland

August 2008

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

The photograph is from a trip to the rock in 2008, but it reminds me of a visit this past May. Thanks to the May 2-4 long weekend, everyone was out camping and partying deep in the woods leaving the atmosphere on George Street uncharacteristically tepid. "What's wrong with you guys.. no cabin to go to?" one of the bartenders smirked. But hey, as usual, I take what I can get. We had fish and chips in one bar, and checked out a couple of others before settling in at Shamrock City around the corner from here. It seemed to be the only one with live music at the time - still relatively early in the evening.

After feeding our stomachs and ears, we decided to venture out into the street. If you haven't been here, George Street is a partier's dream: a full street lined up one side and the other with eclectic bars, each holding its own, each expelling its own flavour and niche. As the sun begins its descent, the street is closed to traffic, safely enabling its mostly inebriated temporary inhabitants to zig zag from one door to the next, spreading the cheer and adopting the easy going climate of Newfoundlanders in general! Quite the beautiful thing!

For us, we knew we'd eventually make it back to Shamrock City to hear some more quality East Coast music. We discovered upon our return that the crowd had grown subtantially and the only place for us to sit and have yet another draft was all the way up to the front! The band, Greeley's Reel, was already captivating the audience with their mindblowing showmanship and crystal clear sound; I felt as if I were being pulled in to their spell. The tune they played next was delivered without any instruments except for a thigh slapping metronome to keep the tempo, with one man singing most of it himself, a heartily bearded character with great presence and a genuine smile that echoed his obvious love of the music he was helping to weave around the cozy bar. It was a quintessential Newfoundland experience, and one I was elated to experience so intimately on that evening.

John Hancock Building from the Gray Line Trolley Bus
Chicago, IL



I think it is quite okay to let life take you for a provocative ride into the unknown. Yes, it can be unnerving to forge ahead without certainty that you're doing the right thing. But really, as long as you live passionately, if you trust the very essence of life, of each new day, of your own capabilities and values, then it will always work out the way you need it to work out.

And quite often, the best adventures and interactions come into your life not when you are seeking them, but when you are open to them! I believe this is what attracts such enhancements in the first place! Best to just embrace them and allow them to take you somewhere phenomenal.

Besides, how maddenly mundane would our days be if we knew what was going to happen every time the long hand passed the twelve? I rather enjoy the thrill of not knowing what's going to happen next, and even though I realise that much of what's in my future is dependant on what I do today, some events take place without my involvement. I'm content to let these things just happen, with my head in the clouds, and my shoulders brushing the leaves as they dangle from their branches, as I breathe in everything that's good about life. Because that's how I choose to live.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Dufferin Islands, Niagara Falls, Ontario
December 2009



© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved



Alright, all you summer-loving people. You've had your fun. You've had all kinds of time to indulge in your delightfully lazy book-reading marathons as you become a long, late afternoon shadow on your freshly cut back yard lawn..... your endless summer nights consuming your sugar laden daiquiris and your minty mojitos and your lime infused Coronas on your cottage deck as the mosquitos drool over your exposed skin and the spiders come out to play..... your long, gratifying weekend getaways on your Harleys and your Hondas buzzing up and down the quiet streets letting everyone know that you're in town.....

Okay, so perhaps I may be speaking a little harshly! I am really not the type of person to display cynicism and even less the type of person to discourage activities that make people smile and contribute to the masses in a content and satisfied manner. But as of this week, the book of seasons has once again turned a page and it's now Autumn!!

Now I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be reduced to a molten heap of uselessness as the air licks your skin and the sun cooks your body... but it's just not for everybody!! For example, I am the person emphatically flipping my calendar to the -embers with unbridled exuberance as I breathlessly wait for the refreshing waves of cooler air to wash over me and fill my lungs and my spirit with energy.

Of course, where I am, in Southern Ontario, I am still holding my breath for that and it's becoming a little trying to continue doing so. It still feels like summer. Granted, it's a more comforable summer, but its time has come. Enough is enough. I see all these comments from my Facebook friends who still reside past the eastern point of the weathervane who get to announce the signs of the arrival of fall, mostly with acceptance: the multi-hued leaves that crunch underfoot, the chilly morning air that induces wakefulness and allows you to don that great fall jacket, adding another element to the day's ensemble, and yes, even the promise of colder days as winter awaits its cue to emerge onto the stage. That's right, people, I said it: winter is just around the corner!!  Fresh crystal clean air with vibrantly blue, clear skies... rich hot cocoa and fragrant wood fireplaces, cozy blankets and textured sweaters, thick spicy soup simmering on the stove.... exhilerating skiing excursions and rejuvenating afternoon jaunts as the snow compresses underfoot and thin sheets of ice hover over puddles and ponds just waiting to be stepped on with a big satisfying crunch!!!

I am also not the type of person to wish away any of my days, but I AM excited to be on the verge of the full blown arrival of my favourite time of year! And I'm not afraid to proclaim it!!!!

An inhabitant of Jackson-Triggs Niagara Estate Winery

Niagara-on-the-Lake, ON

I enjoyed becoming a part of the Jackson-Triggs alumni this past weekend, on a refreshing afternoon, accompanied by desirable company. Our tour guide, Paul, was fantastic, his love of all things wine seeping into his words and their delivery. Obviously, we were just another cluster of wine lovers to be walked through the viticultural process of one of Niagara's most successful wineries, but one feels as though it is a exclusive peek into its inner workings, particularly upon our descent into the delightfully moody cellar. I'm positive that the wine tastes better down here!!!

I have always loved watching tidy rows of vines fllitting across my gaze whenever I tour Niagara wine country. (I'm certain that if you look up the word Niagara in some dictionaries, it will be defined as "wine country"!!) I've driven through some Niagara-on-the-Lake backroads around this time of year and have literally smelled the sweetness of the grapes in the air, virtually tasting it on my tongue. And the gnarled old grapevines that have been granted new life from having new limbs spliced onto their extremities (a fact that we learned from Paul!) always exude such character. As I watch them from the vehicle, while en route to nowhere in particular, I liken their existence to subjects in a flipbook, collaboratively dancing their obscure, quirky dance as my eyes jump from one twisted stalk to the next, each one exhibiting its own personality.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Late Afternoon on Tuesday, September 14

I take a deep breath.... which is followed by subsequent deep breaths.... and soon I realise that every single breath penetrating my lips is that of the deep cleansing kind.... the kind that I focus on ingesting when I feel stressed or frustrated... the kind that is sometimes elusive but typically intentional... the kind that is now flowing in and out of my lungs effortlessly... repeatedly... multiple deep cleansing breaths!!!

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

And so this is the view from my location this past Tuesday afternoon as I am enjoying a post work run, complete with my iPod and a healthy dose of determination. Okay, it is technically a post work 'walk-to-run', but I won't chastise myself with such minor details. The important thing is that I was never a 'runner', and now here I am.... running! And feeling pretty darn terrific, too! I find myself tickled with chills as I hear John K. Sampson's lyrics to Aside weaving out of my headphones : "....I am so much better than I used to be."  (Psst.. it's The Weakerthans. Google them. You won't be sorry. My somewhat recent exposure to the quirky and ingenious world of indie music is just one of the ways my life has been enriched in the past year or so.)

So I step on... running, then walking, then running again, listening to a myriad of auditory stimulation, both old and new.... everything from Pete Yorn to Madonna, Metric to Blue Rodeo, Gaslight Anthem to Black Eyed Peas.... it's all working for me here. The air is refreshingly clean and the trees are standing tall and proud along the Welland Recreational Canal, their mature leaves dancing in the wind, as if waving at me and cheering me along. I love watching them.. almost as much as I love watching the clouds which, on this day, are crystal clear and vibrant in every possible shade of white... a metamorphic background to my hour of "me time" that I've unapologetically carved out of my busy cluster of responsibilities.

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As I run, and walk, I find myself erupting into spontaneous releases of laughter, just because I feel so good and so alive and so free. And the best part is it flows out onto the rest of my day, seeping into every facet of my routine, nourishing my evening with confidence, patience, and vitality, not to mention an ample supply of endorphins tossed in for good measure!!! This is definitely one of those activities that I am happy to have made a part of my life! And by the way, I have every intention of removing "walk-to" from the equation some day!

Peter Pan - Bowring Park

St. John's, Newfoundland

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Whenever I venture home to Newfoundland, a leisurely afternoon at Bowring Park is always on the itinerary. We love to meander around the pond, contributing to the shower of breadcrumbs and Cheerios floating down from the bridge, much to the delight of the ducks and trout below who have probably come to expect it in life!

Here, I have photographed Sir George Frampton's conception of Peter Pan, a replica of his original statue in Kensington Gardens in London, England. Peter frolics on his earthy tower close to the entrance of the park, atop an enchanting assembly of forest creatures and fairies that appear to be morphing out of the mound of earth below him. I can walk around and around this creation, discovering each being as if it were the first time I saw it, marvelling in its dreamy quality.

The day I took these pictures was dusted with a refreshing mist, causing the foliage to glow with its vivid greenness, and casting a tempered calmness onto the afternoon. As I photographed some of the inhabitants of the statue, I discovered some well placed raindrops that stood out from all the others:

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In a classy city like Toronto, the streets are like aisles upon aisles of candy just waiting to be devoured, treats to delight the eyes and stimulate the psyche on any day of the week.

I recently made the opportunity to partake in just one of these offerings: the Steam Whistle Brewery. I am a fan of the immensely refreshing beer, but I had no idea just how cool its birthplace is: Steam Whistle Brewing Company was conceived and created by three guys who refused to sit in the corner and cry upon losing their dream jobs but instead went on to create an even more perfect vocation not only for them, but for their enthusiastic and fortunate employees.

Some more reasons this place intrigued me so: this company has been greener than its retro bottles long before it was hip and essential to be green. It provides space for original and passionate local artists to showcase their work and retains one piece from each artist for its own growing collection. Finally, it lives and thrives in the historic John Street Roundhouse, happy to be occupying bays that had been used for servicing steam train cars, and proud to call the mighty CN Tower and energetic Rogers Centre its neighbours.
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The Beach at Conception Bay

Just skipping along on one massive stretch of Canada's frame as it is kissed by the ocean again and again. Navigating this geological carpet certainly tests your balance, and like anything, the more you do it, the more deft an adventurer you become. The rocks along the grass are much larger and more fickle than the ones at the shoreline, particularly where they peak, as in this photograph, increasing the possibility of a slip.

I like looking at a picture I've taken and not being able to distinguish what I like best about it. For example, do I like this one for the magnificent cloud formations against the contrasting blueness? Is it the spirited silhouette becoming one with the brooding rocks? Is it the successful use of the rule of thirds?

I took a similar picture, but with more of the rocks than the sky, and I enjoy this one more. So I suppose with that, I have answered my own question!

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

National War Memorial

Confederation Square, Ottawa, Ontario

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On the one day that allowed time for exploration during a fabulous weekend reunion in Ottawa, it poured! Now understand that I have no aversion to rain, and welcome any occurance of its presence.. as sustenance, as refreshment, as seasoning for landscapes that would eventually grow terribly boring if always viewed in clear, unfiltered sunshine. So, undaunted, I set out with my friends to drink a few of the sights of our charming capital city.

And even though my particular camera is vulnerable to the seeping damage that would inevitably occur upon exposure to condensation, I managed to take a few pictures! This one of a frequently captured image of the passion and grittiness of war, rendered even grittier with the addition of a little seasoning, served as just reward for my saturated efforts.

Someone's shed door near Conception Bay, Newfoundland

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I am walking down the gravel path, feeling tiny pebbles wavering under my sandals but otherwise I am weightless. The air is almost suspended, just barely caressing my skin with a slightest hint of a breeze. The sun feels warm on my shoulders but I am not looking up to see if there are clouds in the sky today. I am thinking.. pondering.. imagining.. as I methodically step forward, one foot in front of the other, my gaze sliding ahead with each step to watch for the next spot to be occupied by my foot. My breath is slow and rhythmic as I let ideas randomly ripple across my mind, placing no real importance on any one of them, just letting them swirl.

My trance is gently interrupted by an energetic dragonfly that is flitting about in pursuit of a little winged morsel. I cease my ramble and pause as my eyes follow its erratic path through the sunny afternoon. It settles onto a tall blade of feathery grass, and in a moment is off again, in search of the next adventure. I decide to imagine that it is feeling content and pleased with its life, because that is how I feel as well, as I saunter down the gravel path on this quiet island afternoon.

Empire State Building

New York City

The sun has descended on all that is crazy, but few have agreed to take leave of the street. They primp and they purchase while expertly texting the perfect location at which they will meet. The creatures, and features, of West Thirty-Fourth are enhanced by the glow from the shops and the towers providing a beacon of cool urban moonlight to help find their way to tomorrow's first hours. The view at this level provides entertainment that only reality dares to create, and mystically blends to a smooth sea of embers on ascending the building of Empire State.

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Conception Bay South, Newfoundland - Foxtrap beach access

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I am standing on the beach on this refreshingly exquisite day feeling my face being cleansed by the temperate breeze, smelling the effects of the salt water repeatedly glazing the rocks, watching the clouds as they spread out into the azure sky like feathers and cotton batting, and listening as the rocks tumble and vibrate against one another with each pull of the ocean. For the moment, I am lost..... and I have no desire to be found!

Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millenium Park, Chicago

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After touring the Museum of Contemporary Art and then the Art Insititue of Chicago, with a lot of walking in between, it was wonderfully luxurious to flop on the cool grass and relieve our aching feet of their restraints. We lay back, barefoot, looking up at the magnificent web of stainless steel hovering over us. This structure has been classified of a work of art rather than a functional structure, although with the crisp acoustics it apparently provides, it is certainly very functional! As we relaxed, we observed children hopping around chasing bugs, parents taking intermittent breathers between chasing their children, but for once, I was not chasing anything! I was just happy to be.

Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

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On the rocky beaches of Conception Bay South, Newfoundland, there are many treasures to encounter. Here is a photograph of one such treasure. During childhood visits to the island, it was always such a thrill to discover one of these spiny creatures, or rather, the remains of one. This is just its shell, probably having been plucked from the ocean by a ravenous seagull, ascended to a dizzying height, and dropped......... then devoured!

It was during a sea kayaking trip just a couple of years ago that I was fortunate enough to meet a live sea urchin when our guide had removed a few of them from a lobster pot he'd pulled to the surface. I marvelled as I cradled it in my palm, watching as its spines slowly fluttered and swayed independently in every direction. Then, upon cracking one open, he asked who would like to taste one, its roe being considered a delicacy and all. Not being one to pass up a chance to try something new, I sampled its bright orange goodness.. I did enjoy its texture and saltiness and, strange as it sounds, was surprised to detect a noticeable flavour of canteloupe!

Below I've included a photo I took of the bottom view of a sea urchin shell that has lost its spines, revealing its symmetry. In my experience, it is pretty rare to find one in such stellar condition. Notice how it resembles a starfish in the arrangement of the white bands and colour blocking.

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Picasso's Nude Under a Pine Tree

Giacometti's Walking Man II

- Art Institute of Chicago

I am in love with art galleries. Regardless of their niche, they all seem to possess the same basic desireable qualities: impeccably clean lines, well lit and breathable spaces, ample room to showcase collections properly, and razor sharp organisation..... I'm realising as I'm typing this that these attributes do not live in my house, at least not with such presence, so this is probably why I am so in awe of galleries!

Of course, another reason is their inhabitants. It is such a rush for me to encounter images and figures that I have only ever always admired in books, akin to turning a corner on the street and recognising the person in front of me as one of my favourite celebrities! But Giacometti's person won't think I'm strange if I slowly walk around him and study his physique and imagine his genesis. Well, okay, perhaps there are celebrities out there who wouldn't have a problem with that either, but that's fodder for another post!

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

John Hancock Building - Boston, MA

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Upon first view of the impossibly flawless Hancock building in downtown Boston, I knew I had to get closer to it... significantly closer! I approached it slowly, gazing upwards of course, apparently unaware of the possibility that I could bump into someone by proceeding forward in this manner! Mesmerised by its geometrically perfect design, I just couldn't pull myself away from it. Its lines are obviously structurally parallel but due to the sheer height of the building, they display a teasing notion of convergence. And so aesthetically pleasing! I can't even keep the few windows in my house clean for any length of time! Seeing this marvel of squeegeed excellence stirred in me both a satisfying sigh and a jealous pang.

I was capturing a few shots as I was moving closer, but it wasn't until I was virtually pressed against its sleek, polished mirrors that I found the viewpoint that resulted in sheer elation.

Portugal Cove, Newfoundland (near Bell Island Ferry docks)

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Sometimes you don't have to look hard to find something that always seems to make you smile. Here is a simple concept and one that was born out of practicality.. because really, once someone decided to fit the first few pieces together, everything else fell into place.

I imagine one could look for months and even years and not be able to find something that works as well as this. And yet, there it was.. right in front of me.. all I had to do was take the shot.

Warning: If you are afflicted with arachnaphobia, as I am, you will not appreciate my posting the next photograph. "But wait", you are thinking, "how does a person consumed with fear in the presence of a spider maintain the composure required to focus on one?" A valid question and one that renders me equally curious for the answer since it amazes me that I am able to do it.

I credit my increasing tolerance for the eight legged community to my son who is enthralled by insects of any denomination and not only enjoys watching them, but spends his energy protecting them. This means that the barbaric act of reducing a spider to two dimensions is out of the question. Now when I encounter an invader, I've learned to stand back as my philanthropic son captures it and releases it into greener pastures. I also learned to allow these creatures to spin webs (outdoors of course) and even to watch them on occasion - they really are magnficent creatures.

These days, I approach it as a challenge to see if I can photograph one and consider it a personal accomplishment if I am successful. Besides, I know that if I present an image such as the one below, I am a cool Mom. So you see... incredible feats become more credible once you understand what drives them!

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By the way, this was an assembly temporarily collected in my son's bug container. The spider had quickly made a web, and was brave enough to check out his rather large roommate when I grabbed my camera. Rest assured that no creatures were harmed in the making of this photograph - including the spider! They were all released into a conservation area and left to fend for themselves.. as nature intended.

I took another photograph of these steps, just one picturesque facet of Bowring Park in St. John's, Newfoundland, without a subject. It depicts a location that is serene, rustic, and quiet. But toss in a pint sized being on a mission and it becomes a completely different sort of image. Now when I look at my original photo, I can't get past the thought that there's something missing!

So what do you think about him?

Is he reaching new heights? Climbing the kindergarden ladder? Forging out on his own and seeking new experiences?

Is this his maiden voyage to the top of this hill or is this the eleventh time he's run up and down around and up again? How many times will he make the trip before deciding he's done it enough? Does he also run down or just up?

How would you describe him? Curious? Brave? Defiant? Is he running away or running towards something?

Is he getting exercise? Getting tired? Getting his way?

Does he make you want to find out what's up there?

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Looking out from the Ocean Sciences Centre of Memorial University,

St. John's, Newfoundland

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It's peculiar the things that induce homesickness sometimes. Take this dreary looking landscape, representative of an uncomfortably damp afternoon, of heavy air saturated with the kind of chill that seeps far into your pores and refuses to leave. The ocean is temultuous and the sky ominous; it's unclear whether the rainclouds are going to pass over or if they are about to smother what little brightness remains. It is destitute of any signs of life, not even a determined seagull. This is certainly not the Newfoundland that one sees celebrated in tourism advertising!

But for me, and perhaps for anyone else who can smell the briny air and feel the fluttering of the mist on their skin just from looking at such an image, this is the Newfoundland they know. It's not always like this, as you have seen from my other images from the area, but it's part of it. This is her relentless, gritty face, one that only someone from downhome could love. I like to think that this is one of the reasons Newfoundlanders are so resilient! And how we can so confidently believe that no matter how melancholy today appears, it won't persist.

Cloud Gate - Millenium Park, Chicago

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Few things are cooler than taking a leisurely walk in the park on a luxurious summer day and turning the corner only to encounter an enormous drop of liquid mercury! That's one description of Anish Kapoor's fluid sculpture, Cloud Gate, that captures the attention of everyone in its range, drawing them in for a closer look. But the closer you get, the more intense its spell as you discover just how intriguing is its reflection - at once crystal clear and mystically distorted. With every move your view changes; it's addictive to just walk around it as you become mesmerised by its sharpness and personality. It's not just smooth, it has an arch underneath that does even stranger things to your likeness. And that's not to mention the magic it bestows on one array of Chicago's awesome skyline! It was a fabulous photographic subject and I imagine that if I lived there, I'd be visiting it often to see what is does at different times of the day, during different weather conditions, in different seasons...

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved