Dawn Patrol
Photography
Dark and stormy night
A dark and stormy night
Have you ever noticed…
Have you ever noticed that when you get down to that last little bit of the shampoo bottle, and you go out and buy some new one, that smells like sunshine and happy thoughts, cuz you are tired of the old one that smells like dryer lint and dead leaves, that the last little inch never finishes. And you could through it out, because if you did the math it’s probably one 1/100th of a cent but you don’t, because you are responsible, but it never runs out. It just doesn’t.
Tahoe
English Owls
Yellow Roses
Yellow roses capture my heart.
When I was a child my Grandpa Homer bought the empty lot next to his house and planted roses.
Just row after row of roses.
All kinds. Red, white, pink, yellow. I think, whatever was on sale, he bought and filled the lot with roses.
The first rose I remember him cutting off the bush and giving me was a yellow rose. Maybe there were others. I don’t know. But this is the first one I remember.
Given to me.
And since then, yellow roses to me are cheery, happy roses.
Some stories say they mean infidelity or jealousy, but I choose the newer meaning. Friendship.
My sister and I exchange yellow roses for every occasion.
Land that new job? Get that promotion? = Yellow rose
Anniversary? = Yellow rose
Sad? Car accident? Tonsils out? = Yellow rose
Death in the family? = Yellow roses
To me in the language of roses – yellow roses mean: I’m thinking of you. You are my friend.
At every home I have ever lived I have planted a yellow rose.
I hope the new owner knows: a friend once lived here.
Cure for a Bad Day
Today was a no-good very-bad day.
There is only one cure:
Courthouse
This one is for the photographer. You see something that looks like a good shot. You wait for that little bit of wind to stir the flags, you line up the building, the flagpole, determine your sky to grass ratio, make sure the tree is in focus and…. the guy on the riding lawn mower gets in the shot.
So you set it up again. Line everything up. Wait for the wind, wait for it, wait for it and the hint of a breeze and….. riding lawn mower man again!!!
Unchained Beauty
When I walk
I slow
I see the empty bird feeder
The crumpled leaves against a fence
The discarded chew toy near the dozing dog
To walk
To breathe
To feel the air on my skin and in my hair
To walk is to know
Susan River in Winter
A brisk walk along a stream provides so much to see and hear.
The water is free in some places.
In other’s is sliding slowing under the ice with a whisper of sound.
The bite, like rubbing alcohol on my skin, brushes my cheeks, but I don’t notice
I can only feel
I can see the sun, but its warmth can’t get through the mist from the water.
I am cold on the outside, but my heart is warm.
I am here. I am alive.