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 . . .
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
Saturday, November 3, 2018
The Pumpkin Plummet at Wichita Valley Airport
Aircraft lined up on the ramp before the bombing begins.
Under a lovely sky, I walked across the field to photograph the pumpkin bombing target, a moped placed in the middle of a large yellow X.
A charming moped serves as the target of the pumpkin bombing. In the distance, we can see the wind sock indicating a strong crosswind from the west.
Closer view of the moped with the hangars in the background.
I enjoyed walking around the target looking at the beautiful gourd flowers at my feet, and the beautiful sky above me.
Pete pilots the Citabria as Jim, his bombardier, sits behind him, focussed on his task.
The Wichita Valley Airport every year hosts a charming event, the Pumpkin Plummet.
Thursday, November 1, 2018
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
Wichita River's High Flow
With unusual situations comes a yearning for creativity, alongside one's curiosity. Camera and tripod in hand, I walked to some interesting locations along the Wichita River. Unusually large amounts of rain filled our lakes and rivers. The Wichita River climbed its banks a bit this week. The high level of water submerged plants and trees that had grown alongside it. In addition, it reached the suspension bridge that joins one side of the trail to another. Debris caught up on the bridge, and the flow frighteningly made it sag along the middle of it. I'm curious, though not like a cat, so the temptation to walk on the suspension bridge to approach the sagging middle did not overcome me, though I had thought about it a couple of times.
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Rainy On the Ramp
MyMrMallory checks the weather on his phone. Outside, Kevin walks briskly in the rain
after checking his plane.
A pilot and his wife enter the FBO,
rushing from the rain.
The beacon light turned, lit by the darkness.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Tuesday, October 9, 2018
Sunday, October 7, 2018
Saturday, October 6, 2018
Monday, October 1, 2018
Fossils Near Mineral Wells
In the early 1990s a borrow pit west of Mineral Wells closed for a remarkable reason. With the assistance of the Dallas Paleontological Society, the pit became a park, a source for all curious people to find fossils. Erosion inside the pit reveals corals, crinoids, echinoids, brachiopods, trilobites, and more, including shark teeth. The period in which the animals lived goes back 300 million years. MyMrMallory and I had to take a look.
Our bucket and pick at the top of the path that leads into the pit. In the background we can see the various sedimentary layers that line the walls.
Our bucket and pick at the top of the path that leads into the pit. In the background we can see the various sedimentary layers that line the walls.
Fossils abound in the pit, and we did not have to venture too far from the entryway to find them.
Favorite fossils found in the pit at the bottom of the path.
Crinoids and brachiopods.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
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.