She came into my life
Throwing a lifeline
In a turbulent time
She will never know
Nor can I explain
To her or anyone
The many ways
Her words touched me
Her songs sang to my spirit
Reef Point
The best journeys, it seems to me, are the unplanned ones, taken on the spur of the moment, reliant on the benifecence of serendipity. I understand why not everyone who travels would agree with this. For serendipity to work, one must believe in it. Listen for its song. Follow its voice when it calls. One cannot do this if plans are laid down like concrete foundations. Planning must be fluid, flow like a rivulet on a sandy beach, as easily diverted as the whim of a child with a stick.
An Artistic Encounter With Nature
“Let me paint for you,” she said.
“Ummm, yeah. Yeah!” I stammered as what she was suggesting sank in with increasing gravity.
“Yeah! That would be awesome!”
Tranquility Bay
Tranquility Bay, here.
The Eagle has landed.
The Eagle has landed.
My city fair
There’s a city down to the right
Shrouded in the grey
Below the mountains on the left
Beyond the sea of light
Shrouded in the grey
Below the mountains on the left
Beyond the sea of light
It’s a city fair
A city rare
Which once was quite contrite
Departing for Departure Bay
Propellers churn the ocean green
Stern will soon be bow
When the shrill ship’s whistle sounds
The journey will begin
Stern will soon be bow
When the shrill ship’s whistle sounds
The journey will begin
A journey starts not with packed bags
Walking out the door
But once you are well underway
And begin to settle in
Sometimes I forget I’m alive
Sometimes I forget I’m alive
Until I inadvertently connect
With the subtle energy
Which sustains my being
Until I inadvertently connect
With the subtle energy
Which sustains my being
The little tornado that couldn’t
They tracked the little tornado as it began forming. It was on a steady Northeasterly bearing, trailing the massive storm cell which had already wreaked so much havoc on Fayette county. Storm chasers were reporting the formation of a funnel at this location, but that it hadn’t touched down yet.
Sometimes, these conditions could lead to a very powerful twister. Everyone was hoping it would be the little tornado that couldn’t.
Little green moth
When we talk about our lives, it’s not the stories about the safe paths we have taken which are our favourite stories to tell. It’s the risky choices which make for the best tales, no matter the difficulties, no matter the outcomes. These are the choices from which we grow the most, both at the time and years later when we recount those moments. We are always learning from our experiences, even years after having them.
Layers and Sunlight
Layer upon layer
Burgundy, rosé and tawny
The low sun shapes sepias
Into amber and honey
Burgundy, rosé and tawny
The low sun shapes sepias
Into amber and honey
Pix to Words 