Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
Mud on my shoes
In my blood
Smell the dirt
Forgotten memories
The warmth
Of my mother’s placenta
Rivers surge
Make smooth the hardest of rock
Constant rhythmic pounding
Pushed by a forceful heart
Driven to the sea
The big stew
How foolish
To wake up
Thinking
For one nano-second
This is a place to visit
When…
I am the mud
I am the river, the rock
A speck
In the big stew
“Hiking Notes”
Hit sixty-one. Feels a lot like sixty.
Like all years previous…the best moments were free…and many times unexpected.
It’s still smart to be able to laugh at myself, a valuable lesson learned from my lovely wife. She’s really good at laughing at me, not with me, and I at her…never mean spirited.
If you win an award…the next day….nothing’s changed. The trash still needs to be taken out, and the dishes need washing. Actually, I learned that a while ago.
If your roof springs a leak, it’s seems almost as bad as when your old plumbing springs a leak under the slab. You’re in for a mess of work, or shelling out some cash for the guy you’d rather have do the work (or both). The big difference is before it rains, (a year later) you find yourself back on the roof making sure your patch is holding up (did that this morning).
It’s true, good fences make for good neighbors. Especially when you live in the ‘burbs where all the little houses look the same and are only a few feet apart from each other. Started that today.
You can plan a summer trip to Mammoth, but if the forest is on fire, the smoke will drive you to turn around and go home the next day. San Diego is a great staycation destination!
Grandchildren are like your children, or your wife. They just keep getting more and more beautiful.
When I pray. I pray thanks for the privilege to have a roof and plumbing, even if they leak sometimes. For the sunlight of family. For the sense to recognize the richness of life, even when I am miserably depressed, for whatever reason.
The natural world we live in is amazing….love her.
Pretty sure it’s midnight somewhere. Happy new year, good night.
Ever notice that if there were no “t” in night, it’d be nigh?
The sounds of clamoring birds and coyote.
Trees struggle against the wind.
What little heat that has been absorbed
Flies away, creating an uneasy updraft.
I love this little spot of water.
It used to be a seasonal river.
Utilized by natives and nature’s children.
Progress found it a good site.
For money making.
Sand pits. Dredged by machines.
Concrete mix, trucks and bulldozers.
And when it was time to leave it.
Someone said, “we’ll leave the lake intact”.
Dress it up with liquid amber and oak.
Eventually, it became a reserve.
Where humans are considered the intruder.
Stay on the trails.
Leave the coyote and cougar alone.
I hear those machines.
Like songs from above.
The silent sound of warriors hunting game.
Girls crushing seeds in rock depressions
They speak to me
These spirits of former days
I try my best
To listen
Water’s edge beckons
Its cool calling
Irresistible
Attracted
To the song
Falling so easily
To the promise
No thrashing
Of life and limb
Drifting peaceably
Friends
With the clouds
And the moon
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 