During yesterday's storms the clouds above us swirled before releasing lightning and rain. Ben was out there, somewhere, filming, we felt sure, and prayed for his safety -- and some great images with his camera!
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, September 18, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Pelicans Walking
Are you sure this is the way to the restaurant?
Yes! Just up the stairs and we'll be closer to that great shrimp salad!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Green in Drought
The Fort Worth Botanical Gardens, specifically the Japanese Gardens, give one a refreshing respite to our eyes tired now of seeing our drought-striken countryside.
And at my home, the old Oak Tree continues to grow! I hear rumors muttered by old-timers about an aquifer underneath our neighborhood that provides a source of water for this old tree. It may explain why the tree continues to grow in spite of the drought on the surface.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Advertisement for Wild Bird Rescue
Created by Executive Director of Wild Bird Rescue, Lila Arnold.
Photograph of a juvenile Mississippi Kite,
released by Wild Bird Rescue, courtesy of volunteer, Brad Love.
Book-signing at the MoNTH
The Museum of North Texas History hosted James Hoggard, who signed copies of his recently published novel, The Mayor's Daughter.
JoAnn made cookies and punch. I had too many cookies. Yum.
(iPhone photographs.)
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The Irony of Parking
I often look for a parking spot far away from other cars. If it means walking farther than necessary, I will still seek a spot that will prevent dings on my car from other drivers flinging their doors open. And so I felt amazed and amused when I found a crotch rocket parked alongside my car, leaning against its side, denting it, and scratching it. The boy who rides this bike had no license, no plates, and no insurance. He did, though, have a helmet to protect his vacant head.
Tortum in Turkey
It might have occurred during the Quaternary, or it might have occurred a few centuries ago, that a landslide in the valley of Choruh created the Tortum lake and the waterfall.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Enjoying the Pure Life
Tattoo art on the arm (and who knows where else) of a young American sipping Nestle's Pure Life water.
Interesting pictorial of a Japanese sub-culture's significance of tattoos at this site:
BBC In Pictures I found the photo above in public domain and do not know the name of the photographer.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Frankly, Frank . . .
In assisting JoAnn with her book, Emil Hermann, His Life and Art, I photographed over one hundred paintings by the artist. One of them I show below of the murderer Frank Collier.
Yesterday JoAnn and I delved a bit more deeply into the story of the murder. I came away feeling disdain for the Colliers. His wife, Dorothy, assisted him in the murder, going to a relative's house to find the pistol he used to murder the young man. Then, after he shot him, Dorothy told him to back up the car to show under the light of its headlamps that the man was dead. Ugh. Jerks. This was the murderess that Governor Ma Ferguson pardoned after the trial in which she was found guilty. Augh. More jerks.
My mission: I am to instroduce a local writer whose book is based on this tragedy. My intention is to discover on my own as much as I can about the event before I read the novel. In this way I can perceive in his writing the insights that he gives to the reader, and thus appreciate more in depth the story-telling. My friends say that he wrote the story from the young widow's point of view, and that he indicates that a sort of tension lead up to the day of the murder. I hope to discover on my own why these people were so . . . despicable.
Mostly I will describe the importance of this book as a part of local history. A poem was written about the dead man, lyrics were sung about his murder, and now a novel may redeem him.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Another Rump Shot Wyman Would Not Take
Titan, Golden Eagle, the owner of the rump in the image above.
This eagle convalesces at South Plains Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Lubbock.
Please consider a donation to assist them in coping with the severe drought.
Visit their Website for details.
Two Species, Same Wing Span
Which one is the Mississippi Kite, and which one is the Cooper's Hawk?
Wild Bird Rescue released last week several juvenile Mississippi Kites. Lila and the volunteers provide food and water for them while they wait to migrate south. In the meantime, a juvenile Cooper's Hawk joins the kites in aerobatics over the center.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Drought from Above
It was a gorgeous day for flying. Along the way, my camera clicked away as I took photographs of the countryside over which we flew, North Central Texas in the tightened grip of a drought. Lakes levels are low and ponds are dry. Cattle have no food, and wild life suffers from lack of insects and moisture.
The barrow pit so often mentioned in Penny's blog this summer provides very little water for shorebirds during this drought.
Ponds everywhere have dried up.
Farmer's driving across dry wheat fields leave a sort of art on the field.
Farmer's swirls.
The wider angle of the countryside shows the mesquite plants, in green, doing just fine in the drought, as expected, a dry pond to the left, and a swath to the right, from bottom to top, following the dirt road, of dead foliage. The crop-duster sprayed a new kind of herbicide that kills the mesquite plant. Along this section, he experimented with the efficacy of the new herbicide. Mesquite plants provide shelter for wild life, in addition to cattle, which is what annoys the cowboys and why they strive to eradicate the plant. The cowboys cannot see the cattle in the mesquite to find them, and then when they ride through the mesquite looking for the cows, thorns tear into their skin and their horses.
Is that a crater caused by a meteorite? No, it is a pond that, having dried up, was cleaned by the bulldozer guy. When and if it ever fills up again, it will hold more and cleaner water for the cattle.
What are these ladies eating?
The shadow of the helicopter flying over dried grasslands and thriving Prickly Pear cacti.
The shadow of the helicopter quickly approaches and oil pump.
Sometime ago an attempt to drill for oil yielded nothing except this peculiar land mass, now eroding into the surrounding hill.
A closed gate that leads to the oil pump holds a sign that says, "No Smoking," and a sign to its right says, "320 acres more or less." That's Prickly Pear cacti to the right of the sign.
Some of the water looks green. Eek. Here we see a wild hog enjoying the mud, in spite of the green, and creating circles in the still water. This image, enlarged, looks highly intriguing, for the circles and for the loneliness of the hog, an over-populated species now pursued ruthlessly by landowners.
The white birds in the water are Pelicans. They have elected to remain at Lake Wichita all year.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
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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.
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.