
i gave up drinking
and took up photography
to better my life–
yet i’m still stumbling around
looking for that next damn shot
–photo by me

i gave up drinking
and took up photography
to better my life–
yet i’m still stumbling around
looking for that next damn shot
–photo by me

I don’t know why, but these beautiful words by Julie Andrews Edwards resonate somewhere deep in my soul — thought I’d share:
“That night she dreamed of the deer.
Strangely, the animal was holding her.
She curled close into the soft fur
And touched and kissed it gently.
In the morning, her pillow
Was wet with tears.”
–Photo by me

My son Aaron managed to grab another one of the feral kittens that hang out on the edge of town; he has a soft spot for strays, and knows that they’ll freeze to death when the bitter cold comes if left outside.
This one has something wrong with her front leg; it swings around like it’s broken, but she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. It might be a birth defect. We wrapped it up to help her walk easier.
Anyway, I think it is so important to teach our children to be kind to animals. They’ll learn to be kinder all around when they’re older — and our world sure needs that!
Here’s what I believe is an anonymous quote on it to which I wholeheartedly agree:
“How you treat animals
tells me
all I need to know
about you.”
–Photo by me

if we could see how
silly we look when we’re mad,
we’d promptly find peace
–photo by me

beyond corduroy fields,
where the suede bluffs lie,
there’s a crepe paper lake
‘neath a soft cotton sky;
yet these same textures
are hard to recall
when winter’s white blanket
covers them all
–photo by me

photos, they say,
are frozen in time–
here’s shot of the day
with a little rime
–photo by me

i read my poem
to an old friend
he thought it
was about him
it caught me so
off guard when
he began to sob
i had meant it
to be humorous
seeing him cry
brought tears to
my eyes as well
so there we sat
two grown men
sobbing together
over a silly poem
about time travel
* * *
poems are paper planes–
we send them out, not knowing
where they might touch down
–photo by me

To flying bugs and crawling ants,
A bright bouquet of pitcher plants
Becomes a water park with rides–
They can’t resist the slippery slides!
And once inside the saccules,
They’re trapped and drown in nectar pools.
And no, I’m not being frivolous–
This water park’s carnivorous!
–Photo by me

“Tried my hand at Halloween Dinner.”
–Photo by me

one night of the year
we mask our fears by making
light of the darkness
–photo by me