Feeling cozy that I was familiar enough with Blipfoto rules that I would not run afoul of them, I posted a blip of a favorite watercolor I owned forgetting that wholly posting a photograph of another's artwork even if I own it is indeed against the rules. The entry was quarantined. As I did not shoot anything else, I was afraid I would have to suffer a blemish to my perfect Blipfoto attendance record. My adorable wife on the mend from her recent periodontal surgery suggested I do another one of my kaleidoscope things. Bless her heart. This replacement entry is vigorous cut and paste artistry with some serious color alteration of the corner matting of the original volitious entry. My deepest apologies to the moderators for wasting their time with my careless disregard of the clearly stated policies.
The original text and title of my entry is as follows:
Delayed Assignment 30: The Pink House
This is a watercolor painting I inherited of my grandparent's former farmhouse on 40 acres in Aquasco Maryland. This house dates back to the 1860s which is certainly old by American standards. I remember many visits here in the summer watching spectacular thunderstorms under the cover of the 3/4 wraparound porch. The stairs had a creak that was legendary fueling stories of ghosts. It is the place I have the earliest memory of a home as my parents lived here while a new house for our family was being built in the suburbs of Washington D.C. which is still the house my father lives in today. I remember at age 4 the movers taking furniture out of this house and thinking they were stealing it. My namesake grandfather adored entertaining his friends in this house. He was fond of sauteing oysters in a pan over an outdoor grill of charcoal briquettes. The fields were leased to local farmers who grew tobacco which was hung in barns nearly as old as the house. The smell was intoxicating. The attic was filled with all kinds of mysteries and smells. I was always intrigued by long since unused oak water cistern that probably would have made for a nice hot tube. Every room had a fireplace. It was drafty, leaky, and a maintenance nightmare. It was robbed upon the death of my grandfather. It was my grandmother's hope that it would somehow stay in the family when she died, but it was not meant to be. Taxes, logistics, and financial constraints compelled it to be sold. The historic registered status of the house does not allow the owner to significantly alter it. I'm still curious as to how it's held up as I have not seen it in nearly 8 years.
- Nikon D300