August 24, 2018. My son’s 44th birthday, but partying with him since he’s working in Minnesota. Nevertheless, the bees had a party out front at dawn and I joined in the merriment. Recent rain has produced another flourish of Datura blooms, and the bees all came, all crazy, all oblivious to my gawking.
August 11, 2018. Yesterday’s post from Robert Okaji set me to wondering what Hokusai would think of the modern prevalence of companion animals, and if he would have noted such an animal’s response to natural wonders. Reading about being above the storm, looking down, likely in solitude, stirred up an urge to contrast an experience last week near Cloudcroft NM. Different mountain. Different positioning of viewer to storm. Group of humans plus one exuberant Labrador. Admittedly, I was not thinking of Hokusai at the time – preoccupied with concern the hail might get bigger, become destructive. (Wish I had caught Buttercup’s romp with camera – this collage reflects both hail and happy dog.)
Hindsight? CONstructive: moistened dry earth, entertained dog, seeded poem.
Okaji’s “Thunderstorm Below The Mountain”: https://robertokaji.com/2018/08/11/thunderstorm-below-the-mountain-3/
August 9, 2018. We have come home from our two months of rolling east then west and back to central Texas. Good to be home in spite of the heat, in spite of the backlog of mail and chores! The collage reflects one of many moments that triggered poetic response – foggy morning in North Carolina, headed toward Max Patch on the Blue Ridge Parkway. No chance to capture with camera what my eyes zeroed in on – so I scribbled haikus to hold the memory. Later, walking up to Max Patch, on trail’s edge was one more solitary golden leaf – hurrah!
June 30, 2018. Another travels snapshot. You know you’ve slipped into full travel mode when afternoon coffee is followed with afternoon napping. Nothing like a downpour to encourage staying in, dry, reflective.
June 12, 2018. Summer travels are underway – currently enjoying Arkansas near the Coleman Crystal Mine. People here are genuinely friendly (unlike the mocking birds!) Digging in red dirt, relaxing under forest shade – a place we return to whenever we go eastward. Tennessee by weekend.
This image is poor photography pieced together to illustrate a memorable encounter … iPhone on zoom yields blurs, but: “The best camera for any shot is the one you have with you” (Dewitt Jones savvy wisdom).
June 6, 2018. A landscape chore neglected several years taught me a few things. Our suburban backyard is “yard” surrounded by a U-shaped “dog run”. Chain link fencing (once part of a cat fence-in of “yard”) proves an inviting trellis. Over the years we’ve planted deliberately while battling such as wild grape, cat brier, and a good many unknowns. Uncensored, Moonseed vine and Virginia creeper took over the section of chain link beside the back porch. Beyond, in what’s now the Labrador’s run between chain-link and wooden privacy fences, Mexican petunia (Ruellia) flourishes. I love those blooms – enough to tackle downing a mass of vines.
But I was in for a rude awakening: I was ripping down beauty in its own right, albeit not showy like Ruellia.
May 29, 2018. The school year wraps up this week, setting my teacher partner free to travel. He has been prepping our Airstream, and I have been busily tweaking reservations along the path we’re targeting this summer. Some returns, some new locations. All of it flexible should we change our minds! Our minds are crammed full … no question we are overlooking something (to be further tweaked down the line).
In our yard, every day something new blooms … bringing regrets that we must miss this to venture toward the other. This collage blends purple coneflowers with datura, both prolific bloomers frequented by bees.