The gem above was found on a wild rose bush. Most wild rose blooms are white or some shade of red, but this one had some gorgeous pink blooms on it. Pretty cool! My aunt Dale was asking me about the secret of the flower photo taking that Kellie and I have yesterday at my aunt Janis's birthday party. It is not secret. We simply walk and look for flowers. We do know a few places that have some unique flowers. One place is the Syllamo biking trail just north of Allison by Partee Springs. The other is the hiking trail from Gunner Pool to Barkshed. However, most of the year, one can hike these trails and not see flowers. You have to catch the right time, the right light, and when the rains have been just right. We often go on these hikes and are disappointed that we don't see much of anything.
Okay, my poem of the week is actually one that I wrote last week, and I didn't put it in last week's blog because, frankly, I didn't like it. When I opened it today, (Oops! I guess I am admitting that I didn't write a poem this week. Nah!) I thought, "Maybe, it is not so bad." Truly, I started off writing it thinking that it would sound like the beginning of a great adventure for an unnamed narrator for whom I would never write the story. That was the idea when I begin. When I got done with it, I thought it sounded like verses for a Lynyrd Skynyrd or Allman Brothers song--if we still lived in the 1970's. Maybe, it's a little more high-falutin' than Lynyrd Skynyrd, maybe not.
Anyhow, after putting it aside for a week and coming back to it, I changed five or six words, and it sounds a bit more like I originally intended--only a tiny bit. Here it is. Tell me what you think about it. ENJOY!
The Rambler’s Song
A strong desire pulls me to go,
No idle hours, no time for sleep.
The rivers flood with melting snow
And swamp the lowlands six foot deep.
The mountain pass is cleared of mist.
The sun glows in an azure sky
In hues of red-capped amethyst
That imprint on the rambling eye.
I must be gone, for precious time
Is wasted while in your embrace,
And vital ties to the sublime
Are swallowed up by hungry space.
Where breezes blow, I will follow,
Drinking in each sense and sight,
From tallest peak, down each hollow,
Through echoed Day and constant Night.
Please do not ask, I cannot say.
In time, I will be back this way.
Know this, dear ones, that my love grows
In measure with the miles it goes.
By the way, I am probably about the least "rambling" person that I have ever known. I love the old traveling/rambling songs of The Allman Brothers, Molly Hatchett, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Marshall Tucker Band, Blackfoot, and others that I am forgetting, but I am a homebody. That life of "women, whisky, and miles of travelin'" is not for me. I do like to travel, but it won't be my life.
Anyhow...I still have plenty of copies of Essential Words if anybody is interested. Just email me your address at mbt1966@yahoo.com or look it up at Lulu.com. Apparently, the book will not be released on Amazon and other regular online booksellers because I chose a type of paper that they will not print. It is cheaper and darker, which I happen to like. Here is what the cover looks like if you look for it online.
Finally, let me end this blog with a picture of a butterfly also taken on the Flower Walk. It is very tough to catch these buggers sitting still, especially as hard the wind was blowing that day.
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