Tundra Swans and Company

     Waterfowl days, yesterday and today. Today's count: Forty-eight Tundra Swans, including many juveniles, in a wheat field off FM 1180. Accompanying them, an impressive list: Canada, Cackling, Snow, and Greater White-fronted Geese. Ducks, such as the northern shoveler, avocets, and gulls, too.

                                        

Terrarium

     Couldn't help myself when I spotted everything one needs to create a terrarium at Smith's Farms. I scooped up a nice glass dome and three plants to build a new terrarium. I had a little statue in a drawer for at least a decade, and when I saw my new terrarium, I knew he had to stand now in the middle of the plants. Moss I found in the driveway went into it, too, as well as a stone I picked up during a hike somewhere.

Rainy These Days, and Loving it

An old hangar viewed from inside the truck, rain sprinkling on the window. 

Driving past one of the bunkers on a golf course.

Wreaths Across America in Vernon

      The Civil Air Patrol members placed wreaths on the graves of the fallen heroes, young and old. Below, a young cadet salutes after placing a wreath upon a soldier's grave.

Photo by Captain Mary Latimer.

Poetry with Matthew: Infinity

           Professor Matthew introduced me to Juan Felipe Herrera's work. Inspiring. Herrera writes and sings Hispanic, Jazz, Egyptian, color, images, sounds -- everything he experiences. He photographs angles that pop out to him and to no one else. I felt entranced by the new work in my life, by my new hero. Later, Matthew said, Herrera wrote, "She got me," about my poem, an honor to me.

Infinity
After Juan Felipe Herrera

Lists of abstracts I thought
as I pondered Juan's poems
Adjectives placed before nouns
that in such proximity
astound
Some lines astound this reader
meandering the skyways
in lazy eights, then in chanderelles
an astounded reader pilots her plane
Where to go while we are up here?
In my mind I hear the sounds
of the hooves as the horses pass by
pulling the Christmas carriages
the couples tiddly with Champagne
the children giddy by the ride
their laughter gleesome to me --
turn again my eyes to my book
and to Juan's astounding line I succumb --

first, you must know the secret, there is no poem.

Port's Cold Ears

        Port will turn twenty years of age in 2012. He still jumps around friskily, and loudly exclaims his desire for food, cookies, bones, and his need to visit the boy's room outdoors. BARK! He has lost some of his hearing -- which he milks to no end when he wants his own way -- and some of his sight. He has lost, too, some of that extra adiposity that used to keep him warm during the winter days. So for those fewer and fewer times he shuffles outside to relieve himself, sniff things, and do all those doggy things about which I'd rather not know, he wears a sweater. Here he is returning from his few minutes outside in the cold temps of winter.

Fast Asleep

In the warm morning sun.

Owl in the Morning, Ready for Bed

Barred Owl.

Of Owl, Squirrels, and Blue Jays

        Quite a bit of activity in the trees this morning. Three squirrels chased each other, and Blue Jays pounced on the Barred Owl, until the owl chased them away.

Emissions Go Global

        An article written by Justin Gillis and published in the New York Times states that emissions rose by 5.9 percent in 2010. Coal represents more than half that growth.

A power power plant near Vernon, Texas, burns coal to produce electricity.

Power lines run along power plant.

Harold Cemetery in the foreground; power plant in the background.

A long coal train along the highway near the power plant.

         Clouds, dead trees, a cemetery, and HDR technology show the ominous effect of the pollution of emissions. 

Clouds Remained After an Inch of Rain

Old hangars at Kickapoo Downtown Airport.

Wheat fields of runway 33L under the sun's rays.

Attebury Grain Elevator.

To Fly During a Break in the Rain

    Rain. The sweet, sweet, cherished sound upon my roof, and then, looking outside into the garden, the droplets of rain glistening in the sun! An angel is celebrating a birthday, a friend used to say. Hodge, my dog, climbed up on the top of the sofa, and along with Coco and me, watched it rain.
    It was after lunch and a couple of rain showers that the sky lifted. "Gotta go," said MyMrMallory. To fly, he meant, for no other reason could exist when the clouds lift and the rain stops.

Aircraft ready to go.

Focussing on the task at hand; actually, when flying an airplane one focusses on several tasks at hand.

The clouds and the sun, with a bit of rain in the distance. What a view!

Turning to base.

On base turning to final for runway one-seven.

Kim at the Kemp

       Artist Kim Ward now exhibits at the Kemp Center. Pop in soon to admire the exquisite art work.

A beautiful tree hangs several feet down from the ceiling. 

Ward placed a 3D dragonfly on a painting.

"A Monet Morning in Valspar" measures about fifteen feet long.

Nice rump shot. "When the Frost is on the Pumpkin," acrylic, shows her devotion and sensitivity to nature. 

"Spanish Gold" has a clever title. The Spaniards brought horses to America; gold implies that indeed, the horses are a treasure. 

"Sweet Potato Sky." Note the delicate brushstrokes to form the curtains in the foreground and the clouds in the background. Ward's hand has command of her brush. 

"Tough Shot." A view of this kind would distract me from my game!

Fall Bird Feeding is Fun

        Delighted by the visitors at my bird feeders: Carolina wrens, Black-capped chickadees, Spotted towhees, Inca doves, White-winged doves, bluejays, robins, cardinals, juncos, White-crowned sparrows, English sparrows, House finches, Red-winged blackbirds . . . and several comical squirrels. In the trees, Cooper's hawk and a Barred Owl, eyeing the little songbirds with recipes and wine-pairings rushing through their minds: Roasted or sautéed? Which wine will I pair with my bluejay tonight?

A Bluejay struggles at a feeder. This picture shows the color of his plumage.

Red-winged Blackbird. 

Inca Dove.

Adolescent female squirrel, queen of the feeders at such an early age.

Barred Owl.

Poetry: Golfer Gnome Looking for a Green

Golfer Gnome Looking for a Green

At Garden Club last month I learned
Plant your rose bushes on Good Friday
and I with brown thumbs wait
while the upright thorny green stalks
with a scant few leaves sit by the window
waiting with me for Good Friday

I walk outside my front door
to get my mail and I see a gnome
standing at my front porch
looking up at me. I blink and ask

Are you here to live among my roses?
but looking closely at him --
rather, her, I see she wears a skirt
and underneath her beard a necklace
from which dangles flamingos
and in her hands she holds a golfball.

To confirm her gender she calls
herself Juliette, and she hands me a note
Please take on this mission. Please
take on this mission. Take me to a
golfer's home and leave me on her porch.

Will you return by Good Friday?
but I thought better about asking her
to live among my pink hybrid roses
her skirt being tangerine, her gnome hat red --
What would Garden Club think about that?

Thanksgiving Day Barred Owl

          A most remarkable visitor stood on a branch outside my window, looking at me. I looked up in admiration. On this day of Thanksgiving, among my many, many, blessings and privileges, the love of my friends and family, I thank, too, the Barred Owl for the visit.

Visiting Sully

      Sully, Avian Ambassador to Wild Bird Rescue, received visitors. Here he is, and here they are looking into his mew. The visitors brought supplies needed by the sanctuary for everyday operations, such as paper towels and dish washing soap. Please consider a donation. Sully, for instance, is calling for sponsors at one hundred dollars per year to buy food -- yes, mice and worms, yum!

Quite Sunny and Yellow or Red

       Leaves look quite yellow here after a summer of drought . . .

      Or they look quite red . . .

       And surrounded by the season of yellow or red, still stands Buster Brown's mother's house.  After the murder of her son by the mayor, Frank Collier, the townsfolk so loved the boy that they gave Mrs. Brown the house.

Marker in Scurry

        Native American marker trees can seem mysterious, magical, and fascinating in other ways. MyMrMallory and I headed to Holliday to photograph the marker tree there. Visit Ken Fibbe's article about the marker tree pictured here. And the fellow about whom he writes, Steve Houser, published an article in two parts about marker trees in the North Texas region. Steve Houser's article Part One, and
Steve Houser's article Part Two.

        And upon our return, some magic did envelope us; some sort of liquid stuff fell on us, and heavily, too. It took us a while to remember to engage the . . . um . . . that stick that runs across our windshield? Oh, yes, the windshield wipers. They still function on the truck. Seriously, the rain pounded us, and we delighted in it though it hurt our ears and we could not hear one another speak; not that we wanted to speak, for we felt in awe of the rain.

Amazing View from the Cockpit

       The smooth air and comfortable temperatures, and great view of the clouds at sunset gave us a remarkable view as we returned home after a practice flight. More photos at the WAJA.

            And from the front seat of our truck, MyMrMallory and I watched an experimental as if flew over the road on final into the airport.