In the heat of this hottest of days in the month of June in this valley, there is beauty despite our immersion in sweat and humidity...
I sit at noon at the rim of my garden, and the colors of Monet, and more, are swirling before me like bits of stained glass in the finest Victorian kaleidoscope. My blooms are providing the colors; butterflies and large woodland moths are adding the motion...
In the deep, silent heat of the night, my dog refuses to sleep. We go to the porch, where he sinks his tired old bones to a mat at the door and I take my place on a cushioned lawn chair. We visit with fireflies that are twinkling like stars that have left their natural place in the skies, their white-strobe brightness making us drowsy; bringing us peace...
In the earliest moments of morning, the first birdsong emerges and dawn reveals a shimmering dome of clouds in a definite fish-scale pattern of salmon and grey and soft purple. A heat-busting storm has been forecast, and these clouds are the omen. It makes me think of the skies described in old diaries by tropical people as they unknowingly faced the arrival of hurricanes.
Our northern Ohio won't be breeding a hurricane, as far as I know. How strong the upcoming, heat-generated tempest will be, I can't say.
But I'm drinking the beauty of now.
R.A.T. (Rose About Town), not phased by the heat wave.
(Direct your own weather comments to firstname.lastname@example.org)
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Years ago in Sweetwater County, Wyoming, I met this free-range calf and fell in love with him. I loved the fact that he wasn't fenced in; he was free to roam and graze as he pleased. To be sure, he was not a welfare animal waiting to be fed; he was a future full-grown steer filling his tummy at his own volition, and in the process ridding the prairie of a lot of flammable excess of vegetation.
I've heard some free-range areas now require fencing; that doesn't surprise me, I guess. But now I read that farmers are being urged to find ways to feed their cattle with materials that won't cause them to burp and thus contribute to "global warming"... now that's a good example of mule-headed foolishness.
As I have aged, I find I sometimes burp as well. Gotta watch that.
R.A.T. (Rose About Town) Send comments to email@example.com
Sunday, June 21, 2009
This is Bob Moore, husband to me and the father of my children.
I've always referred to this photo as "BOB MOORE, OUTSTANDING IN HIS FIELD."
That's tongue-in-cheek, perhaps, but he always was outstanding in the field of fatherhood as well as the field of home-building, with which he supported us.
He is but one outstanding father in the world. How about yours?
If your father is living, call him, visit him and/or hug him.
If he has passed away, think about him.
My own father died when I was 14, and I never stop thinking about him. He had tremendous influence on my life and what I chose to do as a career; I became a newswoman.
My father-in-law was an excellent role model to his children, as to how to raise and love and set them on the right path. He also is deceased, and he also is missed.
In your comments (send to firstname.lastname@example.org), please pay tribute to your own father or a favorite father figure in your life.
R.A.T. (Rose About Town)