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Showing posts with the label Colorado

Colorado Winter: The Idle Hour

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I remember a broken rabit-hut behind the Idle Hour.  This winter snapshot from a trailways bus just missed it; it's up the trail a ways past a frozen spring.   There it is after these many years, full of ghosts, abandoned, screen door leading to the empty porch.

Hello from Sinclair Green

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Ever vigilant, Green Sinclair turns his head just so and sniffs, becoming more and more of this severely physcal plane.

A Cloudy Afternoon In Crestone Colorado

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Life pushes at the darkness

Colorado UnEdited

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On the way to Crestone... Drawing closer ..... Crestone Community Flower Planting...  Larry C. Linda Jo C. *Note for those who do either do not get or do not open email... Hello Everyone, Here I am in Colorado in the gorgeous early June green. These photos are unedited, since I am on a MAC that I don't understand. I know I can't exactly make this a mission for the day, but if you can arrange it, even in dead of eary morning or late night, get a small plant, and sneak it into a tree bed or a nearby plot. Be aware, though, that it then becomes your very own and may need watering--unless, of course, you can purchase a very hardy New York Street Plant. Love and best wishes for a blossom-filled day, Linda Jo

The Riven Tree

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The trail is quiet, not a bird breaks the silent, trackless, virgin Colorado Powder. Time itself rests from its relentless, steady, pushing and cracking through to an unmarked path. No spring on the wing, no thaw, no new growth needling its way into a new spring morning. No, not yet.

The Continuing Saga of Green, the Sinclair Station Protector

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Our hardy photographer was again exploring the myths and sagas of the Ancient West, when he or she snapped this amazing shot of Green, the legendary protector of the Sinclair station in Southern Colorado.  The rumor is (probably) true!!   Every now and then, just once in a while, Green steps away from his daily vigil and his nightly nap to wander the midnight streets of Fairplay.  Notice the slight turn of the head, the tiny smile, the mischievous gleam of the eye.  To re-enjoy the origin legend of Green, see http://discoveringmeaninginlife.blogspot.com/search?q=green+egg

Snow Grazing

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It's late afternoon in the Arkansas River Valley in Southern Colorado. Cattle graze on the yellow leftovers from the fall harvest, probably alfalfa.

A Wrinkle in Time

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I looked along the wrinkles in my couch, looking for a random blink of karma. A tiny warp in the woof of time. Oh yes, here's one, and it’s a beauty.I'm weaving away at a plain wool blanket, horse outside, warm piles left to show the way for the summer grass. Oh that’s too far off. I had a saddle though, it was western style, squeaky and smelling of old leather. Aspens along the ridge. Oh that leather smell! Pines in the background, sounds of the horses chomping up the yellow grass, rough mane, rough hair, rough feel of western Levis. Old boots with dusty creases, red fire in the wildflowers. White, white clouds along the ridge. Sun somewhere shining. Now there’s a wrinkle for you.

Southern Colorado

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Time swept you away, and I am left with beauty. Somewhere near South Park, Southern Colorado

Southern Colorado

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Time swept you away, and I am left with beauty. Somewhere near South Park, Southern Colorado

Promises Wait for Another New Day

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The midnight sky is stuffed with moonlight, but you wouldn’t know it from the afternoon, filled with grey rain along the edges. Two figures walk along the empty road, foreground vivid with the here and now, while the vanishing point draws relentless close. What destinies wait behind that grey horizon, waiting for the early sun to polish up those dreams we left for dead the night before. .

Remembering Lara Lee Calloway 1973 -- 2015

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Hello Everyone, So many of you knew my niece Lara.  I want to share this with you.  See you very soon, Linda Jo. Remembering Lara Calloway 1973 - 2015 May 8, 2015 MacLean Ballroom, School of the Art Institute of Chicago Guest Book "I loved her. I'll miss her. She exuded love and acceptance...." - Carrie Rubenstein View Sign More Photos View all 4 photos LARA LEE CALLOWAY  Funeral rites for Lara Lee Calloway will be at 3 p.m. Sunday in the village church at Canada de Los Alamos in the valley below her childhood home on the Old Santa Fe Trail. She died in her sleep on May 3 at home in Chicago. She lived in an artful world filled with colors and fabrics and images and fine trinkets and sacred illuminations and people with stories to tell. Growing up, she worked in Santa Fe galleries, ushered at the Opera and traveled often in Georgia O'Keeffe country. She graduated from St. Michael's High School in 1991 and received a

Winter

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Dry leaves rattle and bones click against the soft satin, shredded by time, A coffin day. I don’t know what to do when it comes down to it; Nothing seems to say itself, It just all seems out of proportion, There is no spring back in the touch, no sap of life, My fingers are aching with the sadness of it. And there’s the stupid sun, spreading itself over the morning. Look at that. A tree down for the winter, Gone, gone. Gone, gone, gone. They say the sap is just below the surface, Sticky with life, rich, and waiting. Colorado, Winter 2014

The Bluest Sky

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The sky was the bluest it ever was I know for a fact Since I have seen it everyday For better and for worse It won’t be as blue again I know for a fact It doesn’t matter In the scheme of things I love you so much in the bluest sky.

Saturation

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There is no need No more empty places Warm, full with peace Undone by love I am Saturated January Full Moon Rising over Crestone (Larry Calloway)

Ponderosa Pine a la Georgia O'Keeffe in the Santa De Cristo Mountains

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Lara C. and Bodie C. sustain one another on a treacherous and exhausting climb up Copper Gulch into the Sangre De Cristo mountains. Undaunted, our brave photographer stopped at nothing and recorded this event for all of us. Ponderosa Pine (?) a la Georgia O'Keeffe Lara, Bodie, and Ponderosa after treacherous hike

A Moment in the Life of "Bodie, the Border Collie"

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I have to have my sustenance; it's not about me. All day I’ve been out herding, so I’m thirsty, you see. I’ve been herding here and herding there, Herding birds and rabbits, But I can't keep them anywhere. They have such terrible habits! I know, I know the saying goes  ‘a watched bowl will not melt’ But what else is there for me do? This is the hand I’ve been dealt. Maybe I could howl and  yowl and bark and learn to scratch, Or maybe I can meditate awhile and just detach, Or maybe I can figure out how to work the latch! I know what’s going to happen though; I’m going to  have to eat some snow. I know how to do it, and it isn't too bad, Just take a bite,and sit tight, and let it melt a tad.   Crestone, back porch with Bodie

Classic Off Road Vehicle, Crestone Style!

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Nothing is surprising in Crestone, including the delicate colors and incredible mountain beauty.

Crestone DeerPeople

Light separates us from the ordinary world, guiding us into the spirit way, pulling figures away from the ground. It’s a blue jay morning in the pinion trees, the dry sun shimmering with feathers, then it's afternoon, with the white cold sun tearing through the mountain colors. Evening comes, and it’s feeding time, deer muzzled in frost and silhouetted. Then night again, with its half-lit rooms and profile faces shining in the firelight. It’s midnight now, and the sky is splintering with stars, each one watching while its being sleeps.

On The Nature of Multi-Tined Forks

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I have a friend who lives in Forksville. Not one fork every now and then, but a fork deluge! A tempest full of forks! Eveywhere you turn, another Fork! Where is the road among all those forks? Fork here, fork there everywhere a fork, fork. Wait! Why not take two forks at a time? . Who would know if one fork simply superimposed? Why make these tough decisions? Take Both Forks! It’s so simple really. Calm sets in without a storm, Action pushes out reflection, Leading at last to satisfaction. Of a sort. Don’t you wonder now and then Where all those might have beens have been While you were waning melancholic Waxing upon the hyperbolic? There’s something in choosing anyway In keeping morose vacillations at bay There something in having a positive pull Of seeing the glass as perpetually full. Of sticking in optimism mode, Of trudging along that happy road . Why wait for another spin of the cards, Another day of fond discards, Another roll of the Ferris whee