Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Eighteen Hands Tall (Six Feet at the Shoulder)

The Budweiser Clydesdales visited Wichita Falls to perform during the Ranch Round Up, which is one of the city's biggest fundraisers for the Texas Rehabilitation Center.
John, who has traveled with the Clydesdales for over a decade, brings hay to the horses.
Luke waits for his hay. He stands six feet tall at his shoulder.
His hooves look huge and "sure-footed."
"Oh, no. I have to wear this thing again tomorrow night," was what My Mr. Mallory said he thought Prince was thinking as both glimpsed the harness hanging on the outside of the stall.
"Yeh, they look pretty, don't get me wrong, but they can't rope a calf worth a damn, if ya ask me 'bout 'em big boys," is the response we got from the real working ranch horses in nearby stalls, "or bronc riding, team branding, and team penning"
Nice shade under a big tree. These folks knew where to park. Undoubtedly they have participated in the Ranch Round Up before, since organizers have held it since 1981.




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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.