Wilmore

 In my now sixty quick years there have been many Thanksgiving memories, from getting up early Thanksgiving and going with my father to Bert Roddenberry's property in Sopchoppy and shooting a turkey for dinner that day. Of waking early in Crawfordville and starting up the Gravely tethered to the mill pole to grind the Homewood cane syrup we made for years. I think this year to the two years in 65 and 66 in Wilmore, Kentucky. My Uncles William and Billy were both in college, living with us in our Asbury College duplex in the one room apartment in the back yard. They were two of my best years of my life.

Making the grade

 Making the grade

159th

White Springs

Warbler

 Pine Warbler

Without the exotic prime lens to make the subject more a sharp scientific study worthy of a Stokes  Bird Guide, It becomes concentration upon composition and surrounding scenery. I’m not sure in the identification of the warbler, it really isn’t important, it’s not going in the Guide Book. 

D850 with 70-300 lens

Memory

 Thanksgiving memory

I’ve written on another page, the many Thanksgivings there have been, and how I loved all of them, from shooting the turkey with daddy in the woods of Sopchoppy, to the two story in Monticello and the duplex in Wilmore, Kentucky with my Uncles and mothers mamma, to Williston and Gulf Hammock camp C to our family making syrup in Crawfordville and Williston. Today we travel to Alabama with Melanies mother for our first Thanksgiving there. So many in the family now gone, estranged and out of range gathering again.

I am sure it’s the same in all our Thanksgivings.

Santa Fe Crossing

 White tails crossing Santa Fe

Standing still where once two exchanged vows

Downstream the three white tail were crossing

Into the woods they went after awhile

I do I do rippling with every pebble tossing.

Pounds field

 The fields of Pounds Hammock

Often I journey down to Pounds

To hear perhaps the turkey sounds

But mostly it’s silence that surrounds

But no better place I find is found.

Monarch light

The Monarch and the light of night

Born from night to light of day

The Monarch emerged on time

It’s all in the Creators wondrous way

From the fire perfection refine. 

Blue straits

 Through the blue straits

Through the blue straits

we ply

Unaware we exist within a scene 

So many are the compositions passing by

Never wake me from this dream

Race of life

 The race of life begins

Were I of fleet feet once again

The old man would strike out

the young one so easily passing

Slow down! She’d loudly shout.

Contemplation

 Contemplating the end of day

We think of what lies below

Contemplating the reflection of our life

Of where beyond we shall go

Or maybe just being here is nice.

The two were one

 The two were always one

He had to keep a grip upon his bride

For memory couldn’t keep her by his side

He thought back to times before the stray

And longed for times of walking the same way.

Last light

 The last light upon Alligator

To frame the scene in fleeing light

Before the perfect white takes flight

Who saw the play upon the day

Before the curtain of night held sway?