Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
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 . . .
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Jenny's Propeller Up Close
In the Air
Aviators gathered for the annual pumpkin drop. Here are a few planes waiting for their turn.
Two Stearmans participated. They looked impressive.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuckered
Mr. Tucker renovated the old Muelberger building on Indiana Street, converting it into an exhibit we can see from the street or the sidewalk. Unique.
I particularly enjoy looking at this one showing a silhouette of a cowboy at top left, and Richard looking into the window at the sign "Who is John Galt." Google it if you don't know about John Galt.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Open Range (in reference to cattle)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sikes House
Since the weather made it foggy, I spent some time post processing in the digital darkroom. The grass, though, did look this amazing that day due to the above normal amount of rain we have received.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Flowers in October
I took a photograph of a small cluster of flowers that seemed representative of the yellow coloring over most of the countryside.
I stopped to take a photo of one of my favorite curves along Hwy 367.
The Herefords gave me a reason to take a photograph of the immense barn in the background.
Goats munch on the grass around stationary oil wells.
A man pushes a snake off the driveway and into the ditch.
The stars and bars shine brightly in the sun's rays.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
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.
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.