In the wee hours the stars blanketed the sky the Milky Way stretched and constellation rhinestones punctuated the darkness
The stars in Colorado were incredible. We were lucky with the moon (I’m guessing it was either pretty new or rising very, VERY late, or maybe both). The photo I’m using for this post wasn’t made there – this was at our campsite in 2021 near Big Bend National Park. I was too astonished in Colorado to get out a camera! Somewhere I have some digital photographs of the Milky Way from previous camping trips, made with a real camera, not my phone; they are locked inside my defunct hard drive right now. Anyway photo tangent over: thank you for reading!
a flock of parrots concealed in the old quarry on their own mission a flight on green summer wings urban tropical surprise
While we were visiting the mission, this poem happened! This is the second time we have seen wild parrots somewhere we would never have expected it (the first was around a large rain puddle in a parking lot in Austin). Wild parrots are always a fun surprise! Also, I recently shared a whole pack of polaroids from our excursion to the Missions on my website: you can see them here. Thank you for reading!
Somewhere the hens who laid the eggs whose yolks became custard at our stove are clucking around in free range happiness, considering their next morsel. Farther away, the wind is blowing through the coffee plants, a thunderstorm approaching over the mountains to shake and rattle every bean on the plantation when it rolls through. The farmer wipes his brow with a bandana, re-dons his hat, talks to someone over his shoulder. His neighbor meanwhile prepares another load of cocoa for the roaster, to be winnowed and fanned, made into cakes and ground, a fine powder in a plastic yellow box in the pantry, that graced not the espresso machine but the double boiler. Cows in the pasture low for their calves to come and sip the sweet cream that their dairy sisters donate at the parlor, to be refined and pasteurized, packaged and easily milked from the supermarket cabinet. On the west coast, grapes are ripening, to be picked under the perfect sun, fermented, and bottled into the wine that walloped me into the morning after decision to sit at my kitchen table and indulge in a chocolate affogato on a Friday before noon.
A prose poem based on a true story. Happy weekend, y’all! Thanks for reading.
In the mountains everything is too much reading: too much thinking: definitely over-much writing: maybe a little
because grasshoppers are buzzing their tightly patterned bodies through the meadow where butterflies are dancing to the beat a woodpecker drums down the hill in the pine and aspen forest who sighs to let us know that the wind is coming
also because clouds are making shadow pictures on the side of the peaks, and bees are stretching their wings in the sunshine while chipmunks dart around, replete with adorableness
everything here is too much because the place is so much frazzling concentration quicker than the weather can change intention flees like summer warmth in the shade and purpose would rather just roll down the incline in the alpine grasses all day
My other half can calmly sit and read for hours when we are camping. I found that the view – pictured above – was so distracting I couldn’t concentrate on a thing! Maybe I could write a little, but first thing in the morning the mountain was so full of life that I couldn’t do anything besides pay attention to it. Nature was pulling at my sleeve so much, so I planted myself on the ground in the meadow with a cup of coffee and reveled in the glory of it all, watching and learning. Thank you for reading!
cloud on the mountain we swim through the fog like milk spilled from God’s garden
The road out of Colorado Springs towards Divide, Colorado is a beautiful one that (fortunately) we had seen before. On the day we drove in for the first time this trip, a cloud was sitting on it in spectacular fashion, to where we couldn’t even see stop lights in the distance. It was an interesting experience! Here’s another photo, since I had trouble choosing between the two. . . and as usual, it’s impossible for me to convey with a camera how otherworldly it was. . . .
By the time we got to our campsite, the cloud had lifted and the sun was out. People say the sea is changeable in terms of weather but my goodness the mountains could give her a run for her money if you ask me. Thank you for reading!
folded, rolling sky over wide open country red dirt, golden sun
I don’t feel like this photograph I’ve given you above accurately portrays the landscape, but I don’t know if it’s possible for me to do it justice with ANY camera. I remember that day, the ride down a quiet road through red dirt hills under a changeable sky. We rolled out of Amarillo early and headed northwest. It makes me long to hit the road again! Thanks for reading, y’all.