Fran this was so lovely, you describe the weather and skies of Oregon like a true poet. I loved the poems especially the one about surprise. And thank you for getting soaked right through getting us that fire hydrant Santa photo!🎅 wishing you a happy, peaceful holiday!
Constant rain would send me to a mental hospital. How do you endure it? Meanwhile, you poems today, all of them, were rich with beautiful and evocative imagery.
Using bright wall colors makes sense in such a climate. Some of us are so solar powered, we get depressed after a day or two. Nevada is sunny and bright over 300 days a years, so we get spoiled. The sagebrush environment is muted and subtle even on those days, but when it's gloomy here, people head for the casinos where the bright, flashing lights and music liven their spirits. In small towns, casinos become community centers for locals.
My mother lived in Las Vegas for many years. She grew up in Eastern Colorado and loved the desert. And I regret that I never visited her there. I had no use for The Strip and didn’t understand she lived for the outdoors.
Later, I visited Las Vegas for the Consumer Electronics Show as a reporter, and Robert and I visited his cousins who live there. It’s not so bad after all. But I still don’t like the noise and flash of the casinos.
The season sundial branches! And pussy willow skies! I feel every phrase in my Oregon-soggy bones. So happy to know you, and happy you venture out into the wet mess to make beauty and poetry.
I scrambled to my wheelchair this morning to go out and take a photo of an orange sunrise.I feltl like Hopkins: “I caught this morning morning’s minion, kingdom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn falcon.”
Farther down in “The Windhover” is one of my favorite lines in all poetry: “blue-bleak embers . . . fall, gall themselves and gash, gold-vermilion.” But that is the sunset.
Thank you Fran. Everthing you wrote is great. I will add love one self and forgive one’s self. Only than we can share that with others. Parkrose shots of the school. Where I sometimes pick up our grand boys and attend their soccer games.
One of my favorite jokes featuring rain is about Bergen, Norway. Wet tourist sightseeing in Bergen asks a young local boy, “Does it ever stop raining in Bergen?” Boy answers, “I don’t know. I’m only nine.”
And yes, the hydrant photo was worth a thorough soaking. Thank you for taking and sharing it!
Fran this was so lovely, you describe the weather and skies of Oregon like a true poet. I loved the poems especially the one about surprise. And thank you for getting soaked right through getting us that fire hydrant Santa photo!🎅 wishing you a happy, peaceful holiday!
Sorry you got soaked but what a great pic! The tuba fest sounds like a lot of fun.
Reading this lifted my spirits, Fran. ❤️
Constant rain would send me to a mental hospital. How do you endure it? Meanwhile, you poems today, all of them, were rich with beautiful and evocative imagery.
It's not exactly constant, but it could be gray and sloppy for a couple of weeks. Some people paint their interior walls orange.
Using bright wall colors makes sense in such a climate. Some of us are so solar powered, we get depressed after a day or two. Nevada is sunny and bright over 300 days a years, so we get spoiled. The sagebrush environment is muted and subtle even on those days, but when it's gloomy here, people head for the casinos where the bright, flashing lights and music liven their spirits. In small towns, casinos become community centers for locals.
My mother lived in Las Vegas for many years. She grew up in Eastern Colorado and loved the desert. And I regret that I never visited her there. I had no use for The Strip and didn’t understand she lived for the outdoors.
Later, I visited Las Vegas for the Consumer Electronics Show as a reporter, and Robert and I visited his cousins who live there. It’s not so bad after all. But I still don’t like the noise and flash of the casinos.
Las Vegas is an entity unto itself and NOT the real Nevada. Small town casinos are a different matter, depending on the town.
The season sundial branches! And pussy willow skies! I feel every phrase in my Oregon-soggy bones. So happy to know you, and happy you venture out into the wet mess to make beauty and poetry.
I scrambled to my wheelchair this morning to go out and take a photo of an orange sunrise.I feltl like Hopkins: “I caught this morning morning’s minion, kingdom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn falcon.”
Farther down in “The Windhover” is one of my favorite lines in all poetry: “blue-bleak embers . . . fall, gall themselves and gash, gold-vermilion.” But that is the sunset.
Wow. My favorite lines now too. x
You bring the reader along in such a welcoming way. Really enjoy.
This was beautiful. I love the mission statement! You absolutely accomplish what you hope to ❤️❤️❤️
It was all about the rain and clouds this week. While waiting outside to pick up the grandkids, I overheard this:
“There's no such thing as bad weather. Only the wrong coat. Irish proverb”
Thank you Fran. Everthing you wrote is great. I will add love one self and forgive one’s self. Only than we can share that with others. Parkrose shots of the school. Where I sometimes pick up our grand boys and attend their soccer games.
One of my favorite jokes featuring rain is about Bergen, Norway. Wet tourist sightseeing in Bergen asks a young local boy, “Does it ever stop raining in Bergen?” Boy answers, “I don’t know. I’m only nine.”
And yes, the hydrant photo was worth a thorough soaking. Thank you for taking and sharing it!