Geetings, Open Mind:
Great hearing from you ... stay dry!
CoCo
The Natural Beauty of Your Neighborhood
by compound complex 293 Replies latest jw friends
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cameo-d
"The rain, continuous for several days now, would surely flood us out were we not holding firmly to an upper elevation plot of land. I bolted once again yesterday afternoon despite Wind's gleeful promise to drive Brother Rain down my otherwise tightly-drawn jacket collar and firmly-laced boots. It was a wash, but I had to get out."
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compound complex
Hi cameo:
"Seems I've heard that kind of talk before."
Great but scary look a the fire/rain/mudslide sequencing in SoCal.
Tragic.
Thanks!
CoCo
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compound complex
Les Thomson, semi-retired, loved his daily walk and ventured out as early as possible in the day. Or in the early evening. Before it got so blistering hot or once the sun had gone down (and the pavement had cooled somewhat). One could say he was a nature buff though he really didn't get to the hiking trails all that much. He stuck mostly to the main roads of the neighborhood and environs.
The turkey vultures are a curious lot, all bunched up on the spindly branches of the digger pines. It seems, strangely enough, that those were the only trees where Les had seen them roost. The sunsets - ah, the incredible sunsets - had been all the more awesome after the spate of forest fires that had erupted nonstop after a flurry of lightning strikes. One evening the cloud formations were different at all four points of the compass. It was a kaleidoscope of color, a traffic jam of mares' tales, cumulus and every other imaginable cotton puffery.
Les was usually observant as he treaded his way up this road, down that lane. Having heard a garage door clank shut up the drive to his right, the inveterate walker glanced old Mr. Potts zooming down the street in his Olds. Very old Mr. Potts. Ninety-something. Strange. He ran the stop sign, not even checking to his left (where Les was standing motionless) for oncoming traffic. Les imagined Mr. Potts was going to fetch Mr. Diggery and take a run back up the hill to go to breakfast at Pine Creek Cafe. Les mused that, surely, he'd have to join them sometime. A good thing the roads were quiet this morning. And even if they weren't, a miss still continues to be as good as a mile.
Making his way down the hill, Les could clearly see over the rooftop of the Long's home. Perched upon the incense cedar tree were....
Police Blotter for Today: Local resident Leslie Thomson, 59, was struck by a vehicle driven by retired driving school instructor Horace Potts, 91, at 7:33 this morning. Witnesses said that Mr. Thomson crossed the road directly in front of Mr. Potts' Oldsmobile 98, apparently not looking both ways before crossing. He was pronounced shaken but not broken at the scene of the accident.
Mr. Potts was not cited.
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chickpea
beauty is often misconceived....
often it is relegated in our thinking
to be a designation for that which
is fragile and tender and evocative
of compassionate tendencies...
a brutal beauty kept me company this morning....
a late winter arctic weather system has plunged
the temperatures to well below zero ... again!
the familiar cadence and conduct of life's activities
has become, once again, exponentially difficult
and more than marginally painful, battering the
sensibilities into a plaintive feeble cursing of the
mind-numbing, soul-crushing, unrelenting bitterness
that wedges itself into the nooks and crannies of our
deepest held fears..... that winter will not relinquish
its reign.....
it is awesomely beautiful to walk on the shores
of one of the greatest freshwater lakes on the planet,
swathed in layer upon layer of protection that unfailingly
has a chink.... ingress for infiltrating winds that elicit
a whimper from my throat, a groaning exhalation of
moisture laden breath,that frosts immediately against
my glasses, providing a cataract simulation of the world,
already monochromed and shielded in a dense, deep blanket of
sparkling, crunching, crackling frozen crystalline structure
this brutal beauty inspires more deeply than it wearies....
else who could face its relentless encroachment on our
yearly journey around the star we call our sun?
spring will come.... the journey so promises! -
av8orntexas
I can't get pictures on here ot save my life. But if anyone has ever been down to The Woodlands, Texas, we're just north of Houston. It's the prettiest place I've been. I grew up in the City in Boston,so this is heavan to me.
SO CAL is NICE though. I'll give props where they are due.
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compound complex
Thank you, chickpea ... beautifully wrought.
Likewise, more than terrorize, winter breathes new life into the landcape. Human beings have nothing to do with Nature's forward progress.
CoCoedited to add:
Thanks for sharing, av8. Will go to Woodlands asap!
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compound complex
It was a journey of several days' strenuous climbing but for a momentary bivouac hither, thither and yon, whilst we lowlanders caught our collective breath. Once at the summit - Mount Beyond - we marvelled at the vista stretching toward a blue infinity and that we had maintained our lungs intact.
I could do this again. Allow me, however, to survive the descent....
Sir Percy Fortescu-Hepplewaithe
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compound complex
Strolling down the country lane, I once again note the pattern of dappled sunlight upon the path I tread. The play of light filtering through gently swaying poplars, standing as sentinels along this way most taken, brings needed cheer to my heavy heart. At noon, of course, this commonplace though delightful phenomenon disappears. There is no canopy of shade amidst the poplars. It is yet early morning, the angled stream of gradually brightening light breaking in and around massive trunks and shimmering coin-like leaves. A hundred times more I should go this way to town yet never would I find it tiring. Simple, daily routine sets my life in order, giving me at least some small and inviolable purpose to my existence. I've yet to learn, after much diligent inquiry among so-called sages whose insights I've sought, the antidote to a languishing spirit. A cheerful child I truly was, my song and dance sending the older folk back home into gales of laughter and the younger into their own spirited imitation of my ode to joy. It was a happy time. I remember well this reality; however, a once-clear and true vision has today released from my frantically tightening grasp and fades unstoppable into nothingness. It is as though never having happened. My objective lies closer as I muse my way forward ...
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compound complex
Wandering about in a neighborhood scarcely familiar to me (it is my custom to refrain from any form of spontaneity, including marking out new trails), I tempted fate and trod on toward the left, abandoning my usual course to the right. There was involved a somewhat more torturous climb due to the obviously greater incline of this new path. Thick undergrowth tugged obstinately at my ankles and severely scratched the unclad flesh of my arms and face. Clearly, I was unprepared. Daunted? By no means.
Sallying forth, I arrived, breathless, at a small but adequately open clearing, an unassuming bluff my unstated goal. As I perched solidly upon this destination reached, I gazed wonderingly at a vista that had for so long hidden itself from me. That, of course, is not the fault of Les Jumeaux, but of Fate.
