Granny got on disability and each time I have visited since, the occupants keep growing. I know not if sponging, or visiting. This one little girl, I would have easily stolen. Just an unimaginably sad situation. No A/C, filth, laziness, iPhone glued, children, all under ten running wild.
He’s not of the fire breathing variety
His speciality
Dwells in the responsibility
Of accompanying me
Keeping a thousand eyes watching
Just in case
The imagine dragon slips up on us.
"The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it."
Born in Concord, Massachusetts, on this day in 1817, American essayist, poet, philosopher, and historian Henry David Thoreau (12 July, 1817 – 6 May, 1862).
One of my early favorites. We even had a cabin like Walden out by Motion Sink in Williston.
Holding tight the Bob White...just out of gun sight...the old Brittany quartered toward the brush...waiting for the wild flush..as we left the old lady...in the yard. Praise the old Spaniel....frozen in point...to her keen nose ...she knew... the covey hid beneath the iron quail...while we false pointed...certain the quail...were in the field.
The highway man artist RL Lewis chose my photograph, Suwannee Burning, to paint at the Gateway Gallery live, then sell as a fundraiser.
Harry Todd
When the mountains look high
And the valleys seem low,
It's not time to quit,
It's just time to go.
When life's battle is rough
And you can't seem to win,
It's not time to quit,
But the time to begin.
When your friends let you down
And you know not where to turn,
It's not time to quit,
But the time to stand firm.
When your witness is nil
And your spirit is low,
It's not time to quit,
Just get up and go.
With the world in turmoil
And unbelief in the land,
It's not time to quit
But time for a stand.
When looking at others,
They do nothing but sit,
You still should go,
It's not time to quit.
Jesus going to Calvary
Never flinched a bit,
He was dying for us,
WHAT IF HE HAD QUIT?
Determined to see if what Gator said was true, that the eagle hunts come dawn, I was waiting on the dock at sunrise, the evening debris left, but no eagle. In my field of view, to my left I watched the waning moon for jets intersecting, before me the juvenile alligator upon the log, awaiting him to yawn, to my right, the Osprey in the dead tree fussing but not fishing.
It was then Michael from Suwannee Lake arrived, to snap the gator and pick up the trash. Gator man would be pleased. The Osprey then flew as I watched the moon, the alligator slid off the log and a fisherman in his Rondo Celtic jersey wanted my spot. No eagle. I think the near sighted Gator sees Osprey. We shall try again Sunday. I miss Eagle Eye Bill. He’d know.
Once I was a scuba pro
Deep, deep, deep I’d go
But now I can’t even rake
For a cane the handle take
And with only one fin
I keep returning
to where I’ve been.
John Clare Stokes
In the sober dusk of Friday there she was
From disco Moose karaoke was heard
the off note strained sound of Peggy Lee
Calling loudly, softly, persuasive to me
It was not in our dereliction to abandon
all caution to a karaoke Independence wind
Before the siren could draw us nearer to siren
Of the fireworks about to begin,
We were going about sixty five
in a forty five zone.
In this digital age it’s not enough just to enjoy the image, we have to ask questions as, was that photoshopped? Was it shot in RAW? What camera, what lens, what shuttter, was it A, S,P,M?
I don’t recall Ansel having to say what view camera, what paper was selected, was it dodged and burnt?
It’s just annoying.
Wink. Wink.
by John Clare Stokes
On the banks of Lake Lona
I often do sit
And think of the lover
I'll never forget.
It was in the gone summer,
On Lona we'd drift
She wore the red flower
My humble love gift.
On the banks of Lake Lona
Three flowers now bloom
The memory fresh of the one
Taken all too soon.
O lady, sweet lady
Cause me to weep
I'm a sad lonely lover
These faded flowers I keep.
To the tune of On the Plains of Manassas by Bobby Horton
