Tarmac ribbons criss-crossing the landscape, dusty back roads twisting between the cool shadows of ancient pines, and less traveled pathways connecting present to past, all I wander, seeking, seeing, with my keyboard and camera capturing scenes and stories to share with you.

Now in its fifth year, this venue has become an important part of my life, a place where I can express my thoughts and feelings about the things I see and do, hoping the process brings me a bit closer to friends and family who enjoy sharing my sometimes chaotic and often nonlinear observations and ideas. A journal, I suppose, but one with which I find pleasure in thinking others are alongside me on my journey.

January 30, 2016

WINTER FLOWERS

 ... beth's orchards, of the orchidaceae family which contains four times as many species as there are different mammals ... almost 10% of the species of seed plants on earth are orchids ...

... i always think that in evolving orchids nature was anticipating photoshop ... as different as are these two pictures, if you asked me, "which is the most real depiction," i'd have to respond, "both of them" ... 

... with banks of snow still flanking the sidewalk, and these beautiful little flowers being ice free only because the front of the house reflects much of the sun's warmth to the earth below, these "snow drops," galanthus ("milk flowers," from the greek), can bloom in 30-34°f frost conditions because they contain natural antifreeze ... to me they are a most wonderful reminder that winter is but one of four seasons ...

... packing for tomorrow's drive back to maine, the rhode island evening sky promised me a tranquil journey ... of course, having lived in new england for over forty years i'm still keeping my fingers crossed ...

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, 
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; 
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds - 
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - 
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. 
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along 
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.

"Up, up the long delirious burning blue 
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, 
where never lark, or even eagle, flew; 
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod 
the high untrespassed sanctity of space, 
put out my hand and touched the face of God."

JOHN GILLESPIE MAGEE, JR.