Logo must go

 The original Lake City logo I designed in 1981 in a contest, the criteria calling for a depiction of our lakes, our Indian and Olustee Heritage. Unfortunately, the logo was changed, ruining the flow of the logo, removing the gator, the outline of Florida. In its place a gaudy, non drawn depiction of soldiers was added marching across the top of the two panels. The flag was only reduced and moved to the right panel. It's been my contention since 2006 to place the 1861 Florida Flag where the battle flag was and restore the flow of the logo. It has fallen upon deaf ears. They get the controversy I could of helped them avoid. If you share this, do visit my page to view the solution I offered in 2006, though I have absolutely no problem whatsoever with the flag as I originally depicted it.

Simple grace

 Simple Glory

One who has been touched by Grace has his face attuned toward the heavens and he can find great joy in just the simple circling of the swallows.

One knew me

 Affirm their beauty

Each morning, I go about the yard and photograph each blooming flower. I trust they can sense my appreciation and have a moment of being placed in a position of honor, for often, upon returning home in the evening, their life has bloomed. And I trust they went on with the thought, one knew me.

JT

Seeing eye friend

Time and again

I’m been scolded

For taking photos 

From a moving vehicle

I say

It’s perfectly safe

I’ve a seeing eye driver

Allowing me to devote

My full attention to

Safe photography 

 Now bark off....

I wonder if that new no texting law means JT has to devote his full attention to driving?

Imagine Dragon

 Ode to a dragon

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.

Lou Ellis and Gladys

 Lou Ellis and Gladys

John Clare Stokes

  The years of watching 

 Waiting for her friend 

 To bring some news 

 Climb the cement steps

  Through the narrow kitchen

  Past the Summers papers

  Neatly kept by Gladys

  Into the plush living room 

  The smell of old comfort 

 Medicine and chocolate cherries

  And past the late news 

 Into the night they sat

  And though she never left 

 She knew every ones story 

 And the history 

 Without the internet 

Behind the thick horn rims

   Her eyes darting wide with joy 

 Of having family

  Pictures galore to prove 

 And all too quickly

  From the window

   The watcher withdrew

  Her friends mostly gone

  She too along with her dear Gladys

   The ledger closed unbalanced 

  The concrete cracking

  Curtains of another color hung 

 Locked away, the old tools

   For just a moment it seemed 

  I saw her peering and watching 

  Watching for her friend 

  To climb the steps safely

   To eat the chocolate covered cherries

Of would they win the lottery

 To tell of how Gwendolyn and all are 

  How she knew

  We never will  know.

How we see

 How we see

The sweet scent was the constant

How to see the scene

at the moment

Include the cat, the deck

and the shed

Or look up and include

the sun rising in the pines

The stolen child

 The Stolen Child

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.

Ode to a dragon

 Ode to a dragon

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.

HDT

 12 July, 1817 

"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.

Oh beautiful

 Oh beautiful...for dago hoes...for sandy rows of greens...for purple turnips maturity... beneath the frosty leaves.... In Dixie!  In Dixie!  God shines his rays on thee...And crowd around the collard pot...And pass the pepper sauce please!

Bob White

 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.