I was glad we took the dogs out for a long walk out at Hagerman Wildlife Refuge yesterday evening. Tonight we have a heavy overcast with showers about.
Had a nice sunset with the leftovers of a struggling Sunflower plant and the sky alive with Cranes and Geese.All that and a nice sunset to cap it off.
Manos en theos ††† jasL
Rainy days are made for:
A. Read a book
D. Play with old images in Photoshop
As the weather cools and our rainy season is upon us, my body is healing and now I wish I had some flowers to photograph. So, the second best thing is to pull up a summer made image and play around in Photoshop. Rainy day friend and all that.
Peace out.††† jas L
My deaf rescue dog Grace is such a good friend. She knows how to pick me up when I am down. Every morning she greets me like she has never seen me before.
She is totally deaf except when I let out a loud sneeze ( sorry, I learned it from my dad). That scares the hell out of her and she runs to mama when I do let one blow.
My digestive disorders are almost in check. I was diagnosed with microscopic colitis. A nasty little bug, but the steroids they put me on seem to be doing the trick. Hell, they should cure most anything at $1300.00 for a one month dosage. Luckily I only have to take them for two months.
Still working on my back and hip problems. Had a cortisone injection in the left hip on Wednesday. Felt so good I will go back next week for one in my right hip.
Ah, the pleasures of living to become an old fart. Keep looking in the rear view mirror to see what falls off next…….monos en theos ††† jas L
My wife, Susan, and I often fall into opposite sites of corners when it comes to our favor of seasons. I fall ( no pun) into a general dislike of things falling and fading. She is quick to remind me of my like of fall colors and of change in general, the flavor of turkey and pumpkin. The damp smells and subtle earthy color. She makes me see how it is is not so much dying and dormancy. Rather a time of rest and hibernation. A time of rest and rebirth. Fading turns to endless warm tones of gold, brown and red.
Much like fall, change slowly overtakes me and peace filters up through the soles of my shoes and into my heart.
And so I pause. Move slowly. Take time to see, smell and feel the change. The rust tones fill me and i long for a slice of warm pumpkin pie with a dollop of whipped cream. I also receive the addied bonus of finding that hearts that have grown close to us come to understand the inside of us better than we see. monos en theos……jas L
A sure sign that fall she be a heading our way. Hard to believe with temps in the mid – high 90’s. Then with the humidity in the 70’s, it is enough to make your acorns sweat…..peace out & what up…..jas L
“The caterpillar does all the work, but the butterfly gets all the publicity.”
― George Carlin
A skipper or skipper butterfly is a butterfly of the family Hesperiidae. They are named after their quick, darting flight habits. More than 3500 species of skippers are recognized, and they occur worldwide, but with the greatest diversity in the Neotropical regions of Central and South America.
Skippers have the antennae clubs hooked backward like a crochet hook, while the typical butterflies have club-like tips to their antennae, and moth-butterflies have feathered or pectinate (comb-shaped) antennae similar to “moths”. Skippers also have generally stockier bodies and larger compound eyes than the other two groups, with stronger wing muscles in the plump thorax, in this resembling many “moths” more than the other two butterfly lineages do. But unlike, for example, the Arctiidae, their wings are usually small in proportion to their bodies. Some have larger wings, but only rarely as large in proportion to the body as in other butterflies. When at rest, skippers keep their wings usually angled upwards or spread out, and only rarely fold them up completely.
enjoy the beauty in the little things!…†…monos en theos…jim
One of the ruminating rituals of fall is when catching a flash of orange and black of the Southern flight of monarch. Seeing their serpentining flitter of their constant three steps forward and two steps back journey south.
I seem to be a little east of the main concourse and really only get to see two or three a day on the migratory route. I can remember a time as a child in Odessa TX when we were in the midsts of the main stream of the flight. Monarchs roosted on most every bush and the blaze of color truly had an impact on my wayward mind. Literally thousands of the beautiful creatures gathering in mass surely for no other reason than my delight.
I was not a library kind of kiddo, but I was off to the row off big books for information. I wanting to know where they were going and why. I stared with the wow factor of an image of a man standing high in the Sierra Madres. His arms out stretched and his body entirely engulfed with butterflies. He looking to be a mummy encased in Monarch butterflies. I longed to be in that place. I have always been plagued with the curse of wanting more and thousand of butterflies on a bush in my back yard now seemed small potatoes.
Now as age has calmed just a tad of the always wanting more. I am fully content to have the pleasure of seeing just one winging his way South against the prevailing winds. It is a small gift of bewilderment that I get to catch a photo as they refuel for flight.
Yet, I still long the stand on that Mexico mountain shrouded in such a glorious gift.
monos en theos…†…jim
I have spoken of missing the open skies of Southwest Tx. They might be a little harder to find here in North Central TX, but they are still here. You just have to look around and through all the trees.
A fitting end to a beautiful fall day.
Monos en Theos…jim
I am always reading of the artist that had their creative nature snuffed at an early age by well meaning adults. I was fortunate to have two grandparents that were artists. They even both had separate studios in their home.
It was always a grand adventure to wander about their tools. The tubes, palette knifes, brushes of all sizes and shapes. It always made me wonder why my watercolor paint kit for school was so limited with the one brush and only eight colors.
I was encouraged to slop paint and to attempt to create the visions that danced in my imagination. My canvases never reflected the beauty that their hearts could move hands to create the beauty that lived in their hearts.
Yet, I was always told it was okay that my paintings did not look like theirs. We were all different and so we laid down paint differently. What love and encouragement I was shown and given.
Now I have photoshop and the best wonder of it is that using it always brings back the fun I had as a child. It is such fun to press a few keys and pretend I have the talent of my loving Grandparents: James Wesley and Grace.
Create YOUR art in YOUR image…†…monos en theos…jim