in praise of bees

in praise of bees
who pollinate tirelessly
more than honey
our very survivability

just three to four frames tonight on the two mile walk. in a very intense, bad mood, having words with every vehicle passing. do not know why such anger persists in my being, the angst, the fretting.
i could blame it upon being out of work since March, of missing Nathaniel, the communication black out, the upcoming high school reunion, the lack of going anyplace with the photography, poetry and writing efforts.
just a mess i am.
three days running without reading the daily morning scriptures. i was just reading through them to get through with them, not gaining any holiness or repentance.
i mull upon what my friend Ron said to me, i am done with you, i see your true colors, when i did not respond to his Revelations on Revelation and such.
he had asked for money as well and i did not come through there either.
just a mess.
one day upon these walks i keep hoping some bolt of light will strike as it did Paul on the way to kill Christians and i will hear the word, and i will cease the fretful life.
just a mess.

into blue

evening swimming in the pool
nearing midnight
saw a shooting star
faintly
lately things are so
unconventional
out of sorts
normally this late
I'd be sitting in that light
on the left
dog sleeping groaning
beside me
there was the day
he would accompany me
leaping in behind me
he just lay next to the
pool
and waited for the old fool
to finish the midnight
swim
so I could take him in
and
do what is
conventional for him.

No place like Lily

It was a rough Friday
Almost rear-ended two love bugs
Had to fly the long way to Lily
Avoiding the drug Darners
Stopped for some nectar
with one of the fiery skipper brothers
Wouldn't you know
the Pelecinid wasps had a few
too many dips
causing the skipper brothers
to flit
I couldn't take it
I flew the button bushed
to make it home to my lily
just in time to catch the latest
episode of
bug dynasty.

Come to me

Oh Zebra come to me
must I chase thee
up and down the trail
just alight for a spell
I will not tell

The others see
and follow your lead
with the Fritillary
much weight you carry
and of me
they become wary

Have pity on me
I have no wings
only dreams
and lately it seems
not even those
so please repose
and come to me.

Its a well known fact I spend an inordinate amount of time in daydream and places lonely and apart. Could it be from a broken heart that Job's friends cannot mend? We are going into the seventh month of our torment and if it seems behaviors are amiss, well it is because they are.
We do things we normally would not do, like chase Zebra's in lonely places and climb up slides just to see if by perchance the little ones remain atop and when they will come down.
Bear with us.
and Come to me
little Zebra.

Storms of Thursday

A lightening barrage that was so intense last evening you could see no streaks just the light bursts upon each other overlapping. It was after midnight before they moved West and I took the camera out on tripod for ten second exposures. The problem with ten second exposures, the camera takes ten seconds or more to process the shot. It was during this interval that the lightening streaks would appear and I would miss them. Then they became further apart. It was dark and I was too lazy to time them. Of the many fantastic streaks, I was only able to capture one.
Next time I will take all three cameras and shoot them at intervals, that way at least increasing my odds three fold.
The kayaks are about finished in the tinkering I am doing with them. I am attempting to find a seat back for the Hydra kayak. Yesterday I attached Nathaniels little life jacket but this morning decided against it. That meant taking the seat out again. Three of the bolts came out, one stripped in the holder. More work, another trip to Lowes in search of a screw holder in plastic.
On it goes.
Last evening I lent Melanie my good ear plugs and watched as her cat chewed them up. She would just shoo him, and not whack him like I would. So this morning I storm into her office and let her know her stupid cat chewed my ear plugs. Naturally, it was all my fault so I am in the dog house.
Women are that way.
Cats are infallible.
Men beasts.
And so Diane Webb congratulates me on not posting anything of my longing for Nathaniel and says she is sure they are wondering. I do not think so.
I think they could still care less if they ever see us again.
I do think our attitudes are being affected by all this. We are terse and short with one another. Like the cat situation. We are on edge. We mope. They are getting us good, if only they knew, I am sure it
would bolster their throwing upon us.

How deep do you plan on making the incision?
My thorn is only skin deep
Why do you think it best to go in from the backside
drilling through bone and sinew
to push it out from the other side?
Not to mar the appearance?
I thought so.
But wouldn't it just be best to leave it in?
That way the pain will always remain
eventually crippling me
then when I rot from gangrene
screaming
and they put me out of my misery
You can come and cry over me
 feigning an eulogy.

Reality Check up

Friend on Facebook today said I sure love nature more than anyone he knows. Said he did not have time for nature because life and work got in the way. For some reason that convicted me. I wrote back for him not to lament his state of being, that I could use a little more work and a little less nature. Walden is not always a life of quiet inspiration.
Reality check is I have been out of work since May. The search for a new job has bogged down as what is available out there depresses me. Retail, Dollar General, Lowes, Advance Auto...I lament that I am qualified at 58 years to do very little.
The two things I do enjoy, photography and writing are two things not in high demand. I do spend an inordinate amount of time doing both, spending too much time in nature, taking photographs, to what purpose? To gather a few likes on Facebook? To hang at the gallery to dust away?
So today, thank-you friend for the reality check up. They usually do not go the way intended. I end up not doing what I enjoy and grow restless and irritable, like an addict coming off a high.
I honestly do not know what the future has in store for one such as I, weary of work, weary of nature, weary of being weary to only weary my friends with the weariness.
I see the weariness all about me. I do not want to be seen as a Nature Boy, but obviously that is the cabin I have constructed.
Like I said, even Walden has its moments of quiet desperation.

Horsefarm Hundred

Last week I received my email entry to the October 19-20 Gainesville Cycling Club's Gainesville Cycling Festival, The Orthopaedic Institute Santa Fe Century and the Horse Farm Hundred. And then yesterday, my friend Teri Harty called from Deland, wanting to ride the event as a memorial to our friend Roger Sessler.
In 2003 I rode my first one hundred mile century with Roger, we riding for free since I had designed the tee shirt and as a result of our volunteering the day before at the Watermelon Park rest stop for the Santa Fe Century. Rodger and I continued to ride and volunteer up until 2008, riding our final century with Teri Harty and the VetMed Club, Teri being a UF vet school graduate.
Roger passed away in October of 2011 with complications from a heart oblation and ensuing kidney failure as a result. I have yet to ride any distance to speak of since his passing. He was a grand motivator and could  always be called upon for a long ride, at a pace that would not wear you out.
Every fall I long to get in shape and ride a century, especially the Horsefarm. And in shape you have to be for the entire Horsefarm peloton does not slack. The last century we rode, while I rode on ahead, Roger and Teri were the final two finishers. It is not a Sunday stroll through the Horsefarms of Ocala and back to Morningside Nature Center in Gainesville. It is a race, even though none of the riders would admit to it.
When the first cool front finally arrives, I will pump the Basso steel bike with the Gatorskin clinchers up to 110 psi and don the lycra and fill the waterbottles. I think I will ride out toward Gum Swamp in the Osceola Forest, a route we so often took. Less traffic as with each passing year, riding upon highways has become all the more deadly with the distracted texting and facebooking.
If I am able to make it a twenty-five miler, I will be content. I will ride alone, for all my friends are faster and I would not want to slow them down. Must every ride always be a see who finishes fastest and first?
I miss my friend Roger.

Labor Day

We cleaned the house for family to come over today. Lewis and Cindy came from Gainesville with Nick,Noah and Lyndsey. Paula bought mamma. Allison came with Pearce and Carson. Johnathan from next door came. While I cooked the burgers and dogs on the grill, after riding up to the S@S to exchange the blue rhino tank that did not work(convinced the clerk) with Nick, I went ahead and fixed my plate, skipping breakfast, then we all held hands and I prayed. Prayed for those not present, especially Landon and family.
The younger kids did the usual get on our nerve things...chasing the two hens all over the yard, holding them, harassing the cats, the dogs, throwing glass, cutting fingers and feet, texting girlfriends excessively, parents too lax, grandparents too tired, getting away with murder, all in the family.
Lewis and I watched AGS marathon, falling asleep. I awoke groggy and saw Noah from the back standing in the room. He looked just like Landon. In my half-awake state I almost believed he had returned home.
The chickens were elated when Lewis said time to go. We all commented how like serial killers the kids were, excepting Nick, who is given the hardest time and seems to us the most non-serial. But that is the way with family. We see others flaws before our own. Especially family flaws.
Anyhow, plenty of leftovers.
And who was that that said I was getting fat just like my daddy!
I'll kill 'em.

End of Journey

For the month of August, in order to draw awareness to the Ichetucknee River and a possible Natural Gas Line crossing over it, I decided to post a daily photograph of the Springs and stream. There are many other photographs worthy of showing, as I had several hundred to select from. I tried to select the ones that spoke  a little more, though they all do, otherwise I would not have taken them.
While I published one daily on John Stokes and John Stokes Photography in Facebook, I received my usual so-so response from John Stokes, but think the effort grew JSP as Facebook kept saying I had reached over 90% of my audience and would I like to pay to boost further.
I found that few people continue to share, one of the ways I think the audience could grow.
I found that few people would comment other than the cliched Beautiful...
During this time, the photographer David Moynahan of Crawfordville posted a photograph of the river near the headwaters with a kayaker in the background. It was a very nice photo that received 168 likes and 24 comments with a share from Save Our Suwannee.
My largest response was 25 likes by comparison. I venture to say if John Moran, his friend and equally adept photographer had a Facebook page, he would receive well into the thousand likes.
Both these photographers I emulate.
I compared them to being M&M peanuts
with me being
a plain peanut.

Pelican restored

Worked on the Pelican kayak this afternoon. Made the dreaded trek to Walmart for some eyelets and bungee and epoxy to seal holes. Last week I used stripper to remove the layers of camo paint I had sprayed on the upper hull. I was never satisfied with the paint since it always scraped off. I added bungee to the front and back decks, put two layers of foam under the seat, cut a foam piece for the seat back and sealed the old eyelet holes.
I have a new PFD on order from Cabela's in red along with a rod holder. The rod holder will be used for an umbrella, a fishing pole if ever I fish or a stop stake. I am going to fabricate the stop stake from a telescoping paint roller with some hollow wound rope. I have never used a stop stake but get tired of always drifting past a subject matter.
I am looking forward to September when the floating season ends at Ichetucknee and you do not have to pay the $5 entry fee. The Santa Fe is at flood stage again so I will stay away from there for now.
Saturday, August 31st and I am being lazy watching Gator Football and now Mississippi State. It is thundering outside and threatening rain. Melanie is in Williston with her mother, Gerald being in Tennessee at an Uncles funeral. Jordon and I met Mamma, Paula, Allison and her two boys at Cracker Barrel this morning for breakfast, that being about our only outing.
Since this photograph, I have restrung the bungee on the front of the kayak. The rod holders arrived but I have yet to install them. I found a good telescoping pole for my anchor stake which is rigged and ready.
September comes tomorrow and the Itchetucknee will have no tubers. I like the idea Dave offered of putting in at the 27 bridge and paddling up, that way the float back being easier and no time restraint from the park closing.
I have ordered parts for the little green Hydra kayak as well and await their arrival.
Looking forward to the fall.

Landon's birthday

I was thirty-three when I finally married. I never thought I would find anyone. It was by God's providence Jessica, my sisters second daughter, was admitted to Shands as a little girl, with Melanie being her nurse. Naturally, my mother and sister immediately started match making. I got up the nerve to ask her to the July 4th fanfare and fireworks at UF, but she turned me down. She was dating a doctor at the time. And so, it was a year later, after returning from a trip to St Marks, where I had found a note in a bottle, that I found in my mailbox, a letter from Melanie. She remembered that I had taken photographs of the zoo for Jessica and posted them in her room, that she had recently purchased a 'Cannon' camera, would I teach her something about photography.
The rest was history culminating in our marriage and the birth of Landon Randolph, his middle name given to him while in labor, after the grandfather on her daddy's side, Randolph Eatman.
The Landon we used, because we wanted to honor my father with his initials, Luther Ray.
Today was Landon's twenty-fifth birthday. He marks our life together as he was conceived before we were married. He is the reason I am married. I would have continued to drag my feet and avoid responsibility. When he was born, that magical change occurred in me that turned me overnight into a doting father. I did the best I could working all the time with JCPenney, a job I never really cared for, but it paid well enough to allow Melanie in the early years to be able and work part-time.
On hindsight, all the long hours, while allowing the lifestyle, also kept me perhaps from making that tight bond with Landon, of which we now find severed.
When Landon married, we were ready to let him go. But what we did not imagine, was the extent Amber, his wife, would take him. She has all but erased all people from his life, including family and his friends. And so it grieves us greatly, especially now that they have a grandson we so dearly loved and bonded with.
Our lives since March have been an undercurrent of constant hope and sorrow. Events came and went and still no call, no email, nothing.
And we continue to pray, never swaying in the hope that at some point, he will come to his senses and return.