Dog Playing with Cat Tail

17 Feb

dogandcat


Image by Jeannie Atwater Jordan Allen at http://fineartamerica.com/featured/cat-in-window-jeannie-atwater-jordan-allen.html
Poem by CKay at: http://www.scrapbook.com/poems/doc/8076.html

Image

Erasing History

17 Feb

erase

Image

Valentine’s Day 2014

14 Feb

tina

She’s in My Heart and in My Soul

17 Sep

The September 16th Daily Create.

 

tina-and-me

How We Were Nearly Not Team #ds106

16 Sep

But with the magic that is #ds106 we became Team ds106 and we rocked! On Saturday @cogdog and I rode around an awesome 15 mile course to complete our fist ever Team #ds106 ride. I have been charged with creating the #ds106 athletic department. Least that is what @cogdog said. So let’s see some activities sporting the colors and get away from them damn computer screens. 

And if you can officially get the number 106 in any race, you will be head of the newly formed athletic department. 

ds106

What is a Story According to a Rock

12 Sep

bikeOn an afternoon bike ride I stopped to explore a dry creek bed that crossed the trail. As I explored the creek bed it was clear that it often flooded. Large parts of bushes and trees hung on other bushes still rooted to the ground. Some stood a few feet off the ground and they had obviously been tossed there by a powerful force.

I stood below one artistic arrangement that captured my attention. Not only were there parts of bushes and branches of trees, and even a loose bit of blue fabric stuck wondrously to the ironwood still clinging to the soil, but there were rocks too! Some were pretty big rocks suspended magically in the tangle of debris several feet off the ground.

One of the rocks was unlike most of the others. It still had very sharp corners and edges to it. The ones I was walking over in the creek bed were mostly rounded by the many floods that had passed over them and ground them to a softer shape.  But this one rock looks as if it had just been excavated from the hills surrounding the small drainage I wandered into.

Where did that rock come from? How far upstream was it lodged when this torrent of water pulled it from the earth?

I wondered just what the event looked like as the muddy water cascaded over boulders and stones, cutting under turns in the bed and generally wreaking havoc on the sandy bed. Was this rock part of the limestone higher up where once a lake sat and at its bottom gathered the calcium rich sand to create a solid floor? How long had that taken? And then, so long later, the bit of rock was exposed by the drying of the water or an upheaval of some sort? I could not know.

But there before me the rock perched in the mass of twisted growth had a story to tell that had settings, and plots. And there I stood, staring at it and wondering about the story and even making it up as I wondered. I could have chosen any rock or portion of a bush to wonder about, but that particular rock, on that particular afternoon shared a story with me. And here, right now, it is digital, and separated by time and space from that creek bed just a few miles from where I sit. From me here now taking a moment to wonder and reflect.

Then, making words or images or colors or sounds that try to recapture something real or imagined and lifting them out of the empty space into something tangible. At least for a moment.

O BLOG! my blog! our fearful creation is done!

3 Sep

Well, here we are. Week two.

All I am gonna say about this stuff I have seen about the gif fight and the “Down With Dull Blog Post Titles!” follows.

O BLOG! my blog! our fearful creation is done;
The site has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The first post is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady sidebar, the monitor grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of 404 errors
Where on the deck my Theme lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Blog! my blog! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Blog! Most beautiful blog!
This footer beneath your Welcome to the World
It is some dream that on the computer,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Blog does not answer, It’s frozen solid and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The site is anchor’d safe and sound, its creation closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
On the screen my theme lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

That was a slight revision of some Walt Whitman you know.

I have no clue what made me make the are below. I was going to add some lines about ds106 being “sexier” than the rest. But then I thought better.

ds106fight

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