A Well Spent Weekend

Janiva Magness came to town again, so Saturday night my daughter and I were in a bar - again. Listening to Janiva and her band - again. We had a great time - again. This could become a habit...

Sunday, we rode the motorcycles to visit my son. It was an almost perfect day for riding - cool enough for a jacket but warm enough to be pleasant. The three of us scheduled the afternoon together to see the movie Jackass 3 in 3D. I have to say, if you are going to spend good money to watch those jackasses writhing on the ground, clutching their crotches, it should be in a college town surrounded by young men who find Johnny Knoxville and his crew of nitwits incredibly funny. I admit there were several scenes that had me laughing so hard, I could not catch my breath. There is not a single socially redeeming aspect to those Jackass movies, except two hours go by and not a single worrisome thing crosses your mind. As the credits rolled at the end, we were treated to photos of each of the men as little boys. There was no indication in any of those cute little faces of their destinies as America's most famous full grown idiots.

Now it is Monday morning and I am faced with the same old grind. Maybe Knoxville has it right after all....

Photos for The Handsome Earth post

Cottonwoods


Tall grass


Across the valley


The End of Sunflowers this year


The End

The Handsome Earth

Farewell to the summer of 2010. It was terrible weather for human beings and best to have that suffering behind us. Every warm blooded creature suffered, especially me, and all who had to listen to my complaining. The prairie plants surely considered it a great season, resplendent now in autumn colors and newly refreshed with last night's easy rain. It was mild thunder and half-hearted lightning as if even thunderstorms are worn out and tired.

The fall weather has been uncommonly gorgeous, a reward for surviving the brutal summer. The prairie is red and gold and russet. When I see the hills covered in these rich fall colors, the word that comes to mind is "handsome", in the way a very attractive woman sometimes deserves to be called handsome. It is a word for her entire bearing, not a reference only to a single attribute in her appearance.

Dictionary.com defines the the word 'handsome' as:
1. having an attractive, well-proportioned, and imposing appearance suggestive of health and strength; good looking.
2. having pleasing proportions, relationships, or arrangements, as of shapes, forms, or colors; attractive.
3. exhibiting skill, taste, and refinement; well made.
4. considerable, ample, or liberal in amount.
5. gracious; generous; flattering.
6. adroit and appealing; graceful.

The prairie is handsome in every aspect.

A woman falls in love with the spot upon the earth that provides her home, and that spot does not have to be beautiful, handsome, majestic, comfortable, safe, lovely, easy or extraordinary. We fall in love with the earth because it is our mother. We could not exist in physical bodies without the agreement of the earth to provide our bodies and all that is needed to sustain them.

If humanity had remained in matriarchal tribes, worshiping the feminine aspect of our existence, exalting the nurturing and abundant aspects of our great mother, every living thing would have fared better. Now we stand at the threshold of environmental apocalypse brought on by the greed and avarice of the worst of masculine attributes found in our collective human spirit.

In a singular act of aggression, humanity violated the moon in October last year, detonating a bomb on that utterly passive soil. Science was searching for water and claims the explosion was successful. Now science can proceed with its plan to colonize the moon.

I worry that when I reincarnate on earth in the future, the face of the moon will be defaced and desecrated by the same pollution, mining, greed and disregard with which humanity has ruined the earth. I see no redemption at hand for either the earth or the moon. There is certainly no redemption for the prairie. The remaining acres of untouched tall grass will soon be gone forever. I do not have to reincarnate to witness that tragedy.

For now, I love these handsome vistas, and give my heartfelt thanks for my chance here this time around.

Missed Opportunity

There have been a few times when I missed the chance at a great photograph because I did not have a camera. One memorable, regrettable instance passed on a beach in Hawaii. Visiting my daughter and her family for the Christmas holidays, one thing I wanted to do was spend the night beside the ocean. Thanks to my son in law's military service, we had access to a beautiful beach and camping area.

I was up with the sunrise in order to do some water painting, leaving everyone else asleep in the tents. For a while I had the entire beach to myself, but a few people arrived for an early morning swim. Even though I was comfortable with the cool morning, just coming from winter in Kansas, I would have had to toughen up to swim in the ocean that early in the morning!

A young woman arrived with her three small sons in tow. She had a surf board, and each boy had a small board. The woman was beautiful, Asian or Polynesian, with a mane of shining black hair. Her sons were in stair steps, about eight, six and four years old, each dressed in the short wet suits that surfers wear. Their little boards matched their suits in color - red, blue or yellow. No arguing or mistakes over which suit or board belonged to which boy.

The little family entered the water together, the boys as sleek and as playful as otters. Soon, the boys came out of the water, stuck their boards upright in the sand and sheltered behind them. They did this so their mother could swim out alone on her board. The brightly colored suits and boards, with the three beautiful children crouched together was the missed opportunity. I hurriedly sketched the scene with pencil, but I deeply regretted that my camera was lying uselessly back in the tent.

Those little boys were motionless and silent, their eyes fixed on their beautiful young mother enjoying her few minutes of freedom in the ocean. There was no question of the boys sneaking back into the water while their mother was swimming. This was something the four of them did routinely. They knew to wait patiently for their mother to return.

Perhaps it is better that I did not have a camera because the entire experience is firmly in my mind and not confined to a small photograph. I imagine that those boys now, about fifteen, thirteen, and eleven, are old enough that they do not wait on the beach but paddle out with their mother at sunrise in the gold and turquoise waters of Hawaii.

Visit the same beach here, at sunrise.

Motorcycles and Weddings and The First Days of Fall...

I deleted all the messages from my phone last night, even though I knew I would probably regret it. I deleted important factual information. My speedster brother was at the track again with his snarlin' Harley dragster and turned in some impressive times and speeds - he seems to be hitting the 108 and 109 mph range regularly, and his times are improving to the 10 and 11 second range. He also has the timing tree figured out already and actually hit the green in .001 of a second. Not bad for an old man. Not bad at all. If I had not deleted everything from the phone, I would have the exact numbers.

My son and I attended a wedding together Saturday evening. It was a lovely wedding held in the beautiful area of Lake Shawnee that hosts the annual pow wow, though I hardly recognized the grounds without the vendors and tents and people. Rain delayed the wedding but it brought everyone together inside. The bride was lovely in a white gown embroidered with red cherry blossoms. The maids of honor were dressed in beautiful red dresses, and the men were resplendent in black tuxedos with red ties. I do not know when I have seen a more beautiful bridal party, ever.

I have known the bride since she was chosen, along with my son, to greet emissaries from Russia in a ceremony at the Topeka Historical Museum. The treasures of the Czars were to be brought to Topeka for public display. A small collection of children of various ethnicity were chosen from my son's school. I believe the children were also chosen for their beauty. The bride's family tree extends to Puerto Rico and she has the long black tresses and exotic eyes of a princess. Always a beautiful girl, as a young woman, she was a vision of great beauty and happiness Saturday. Hopefully, her husband will always know to count himself as one of the luckiest men on the planet. I wish much happiness and good fortune to the young couple for all of their lives.

The bride's youngest sister and her brother are both members of their high school drum line, and they performed at the wedding reception. It was outrageous and marvelous! The best thing is that we can go to football games and other events to catch their performances again and again, though nothing will ever match being crammed into a small building within inches of the drums and cymbals, celebrating with two hundred other happy people....

Saturday night was wonderful, in every way.

Sunday afternoon I noticed that while the prairie is still tall and blooming with sunflowers and grasses and butterflies, leaves were beginning to fall. The plants are already diminishing, heading toward the ground for the winter and rest. All is right in my world right now. For just this small moment, it is perfect.

Aldebaran and Little Sophie - Mice Executioners

Little Sophie.

If you have lived on a farm, or come from farm people, you know that a "good mouser" is a cat expert at catching and destroying mice. Little Sophie is a good mouser, the highest compliment for a working cat.

The new kitten Sophie resembles my former, late cat Aldebaran in physical appearance and in personality. Aldebaran was the absolute ruler of her universe. When my daughter's cats were staying with me, safely quarantined from Aldebaran in the back bedroom, she cornered my adult daughter in the hallway with vicious spitting, growling and attacks. Aldebaran knew my daughter was the one responsible for those two interlopers. A good monarch knows how to maintain order in her realm, including demanding respect from humans.

Aldebaran kept this house free of mice. They may have ventured in, but once here, their rodent hours were numbered. With stone-like perseverance, Aldebaran would wait motionless for a mouse to come out of hiding. Once in the open, mice were caught and executed with laser precision, their carcasses deliberately and disdainfully discarded in the middle of the living room floor. This was calculated to strike fear into her enemy's heart, and serve as a warning to all vermin, including humans.

In time, Sophie may be better at catching mice than Aldebaran. Sophie has already caught adult mice. I do not think she has killed them yet. I have not seen any dead mice, or found any severed parts. Sophie is still an inexperienced baby and the mice must take their miraculous second chance at life to leave the premises. Soon enough any mouse in here will be a "dead mouse walking".

No life is complete without a cat, so I am happy to have another cat. Thanks to Sophie the Mouser Extraordinaire, the quality of life at Spirit Creek has improved. Woe to the hordes of mice. A new Executioner has arrived. It is just a matter of time, Mice.

The late Aldebaran, viciously killed by King the stray dog. She fought like the warrior she was until the end.

Ginger The Terrible

My horse Ginger was in a terrible mood yesterday. The farrier arrived early, so I did not have time to call Ginger up and have her calmed down with grooming, carrots, fly spray, and lavish amounts of love and attention.

Ginger still comes when called, but she is no hurry. When Annie was here, it was a horse race to see who could thunder past me first at break neck speed. Now that Ginger is alone, the entire universe revolves around her haughty fat rear end. She AMBLED toward the barn, easily slipped away from me when I tried to get the halter on her, refused to lead, refused to move until I slapped her rear with the end of the rope. What a snot!

Then Ginger did not want to cooperate with Terrie (the farrier) by graciously moving her left hind hoof. In fact, after a mild struggle with Terrie, she signaled her defiance by actually kicking. She did not kick at Terrie and she did not kick viciously, but it was a kick - a huge indiscretion. She got clobbered for it, but Ginger is the type of horse that a mere slap from a human is about as meaningful as the flies she swishes away with her tail.

I am not sure why Ginger was behaving badly. Most of the time she cooperates with the farrier. I guess, if you were born to be the Queen, and there is no one to rule, you take subjects where you find them, and human beings can be pushed around easier than horses. I was embarrassed and worried. A good farrier is a valuable commodity. Terrie might cross Ginger off The List.