you are my green chile
kokopelli dream
soft sound of hiking boots
tapping on sandstone
my sun, uninterrupted
blessing mesas
the aqua blue of desert skies
set against canyons calling
in sacred language of silence
scents of cedar, earth and peace
you reset me
44 words is a quadrille, our original poetry form at
Merril is our host and the given word is “set”. Feel free to join in.
In awe I stand
Feet steadied upon
Emerald cliffs
Inhaling breath of sky
Heart-quickened, earth-smitten
Tickle of sea mist on my tongue
I surrender thoughts to the waves
Trundle with ocean’s tide
Erasing all but this moment
Time still…. (passes)
Each second a blessing
Written for De’s Quadrille prompt , “Quick! Write Something!”
It is our first morning in Newfoundland. We settled in late, the night before to an eclectic vacation rental in the small community of Southport. Population 40. We want to experience the true local life of the most eastern province of Canada. I open the door to see our surroundings in daylight, barely breathing the salty air on the bay, when I hear the sound of a four wheeler, kicking up gravel in it’s path. A middle-aged man stops in front our door. “Hello! How are you doing? Staying at Peggy and Viv’s are ya?” He shares stories of the land, the people and the fishing industry. He says he will never leave “the rock”, this magnificent island we’ve come to explore. He’s ventured out to bigger dreams and cities, but this is home. It’s different here. He’s already convinced me it’s better here. He offers a word of advice to us. “Don’t worry about crossing boundaries or walking across the neighbour’s properties. The worst thing that can happen is they’ll invite you in for tea.”
My eyes wander a bit to take in my surroundings. Colourful little buildings called “stages”. Rocky shorelines and fog in the distance. He tells us of a 90 year old woman visiting the area. She asked him to take her out on the ocean to see the sights and he willingly obliged. Then his voice becomes shaky with emotion. “She said to me, ‘Now I have seen heaven.'” He puts his hand on his heart. “I will never forget her face and those words”, he says. I get the same lump in my throat, feeling the sincerity in his eyes. The conversation brings me back to a place of genuine simplicity. This is why I am here.
fresh breeze of August
eagle basks in morning sun
feathers set aglow
It’s Haibun Monday, everyone! The theme is “morning”. Hope you can join us at dVerse Poets Pub.
I am your host and the prompt is open all week.
From a window seat view
I watch clouds casting shadows
In puzzle-like fashion
Beauty mimicked from skies, majestic
To desolate, desert floors
In solitude they roam
Longing for home
I cushion them gently between
My thumb and pointer finger
Dreaming each piece into place
Its Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub and I am your host.
You are welcome to join in! Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.
Photo taken in flight over Nevada.
He tells me he’s going to Thailand. Alone. For six weeks. Six weeks and six days. He is taking a backpack. I think he is joking but then…there’s the grin, that familiar smirk n’ dimple disposition that says he is not. I smile, wide-eyed while panic pokes at every ounce of my maternal self. “What?” “Why?” “When?” The fact that he will miss Christmas becomes trivial, getting lost in swirls of anxiety. I look in his eyes for answers to questions I haven’t thought of yet. He speaks of hostels in Bangkok and a train to Chiang Mai where you can ride an elephant. My heart races like a tuk-tuk but I remain focused on him, his dreams, his ambitions, his life. This is his life.
sea eagle sets sail
as easterly winds beckon
avoiding monsoons
Toni (kazensukura) leads our Haibun Monday at dVerse this week. The topic is your choice. Just remember to follow the etiquette of the form. “(1) The haibun must be non-fiction (2) The occurance must have actually happened to you (3) You are to write one to two tight paragraphs and (4) End it with a season based haiku.”
Image: pixabay.com
Oh my little sea anemone
I didn’t know your name
Or if your game included me
My intrusion, your confusion
My bucket list of fickleness
But somehow I knew
I knew you would reach for me
The first time I touched you
Sea anemone, Laguna Beach
Written for Poetics: “first things first”. Kelly has returned for a visit and has asked us to write a poem about a first. This brief interaction was most likely a first for both of us.
“Same view from where I am
grass and sky and trees
Please let me travel elsewhere
to see the sea”
Journey me
Ferry me gently
To new horizons
Then…let…me…go
I’ll be the fizzle
In the seafoam
The iridescent dazzle
Of sun satiny shores
Dance me dizzy
Until I fall giggly into
Cotton batten clouds
Quilted for me
Journey me
To the sea
We have begun a week long celebration for our 5th Anniversary of dVerse Poets Pub. Grace started us off with an interview with Brian Miller, co-founder of dVerse. Today we are writing quadrilles including the word “journey”. During our two week break, we were very saddened to lose one of our most active participants, a very talented poet, Viv Blake. I was inspired by her poem, “Rooted” as I wrote this piece. This one’s for you, Viv.
Oh sacred sun
Paint my heart in pastels
Once more you find me
Beckoned by the beige of
Chiseled mesas
Dressed in shadows
Tantalized by turquoise trails
Where time tumbles
In weeds, windswept
Wonders dance like dust devils
And I trust
That beauty still thrives
In lonesome places
Today I am hosting Poetics at dVerse. The topic is “Sentiments of the Southwest” where I have offered up some of my favourite photos for inspiration.
The pub opens at 3 pm EST. See you there!
© Candace Kubinec
Some days I’d like to sail away
On diamond studded oceans blue
A dazzle of my dreams come true
Horizons stretch beyond the bay
Stars for tracing, time erasing
Surrender burdens of yesterday
Life starts with taking breaths anew
Some days I’d like to sail away
Over at dVerse, Victoria C. Slotto has introduced the Octain Refrain, originally created by an English poet by the name of Luke Prater. The rhyme scheme is A-b-b, a-c/c-a, b-a
Eight syllables per line…I may have an extra one.
Pieces of my heart
Wait for me here
Where time has chiseled rock
Like a sculptor
Offering masterpieces to the heavens
But they’ve seen it
And I feel like an angel
Poised and perched upon a mesa
Waiting for my wings
Wondering how I ever knew
What the sun was
Until I felt it here
Warming every pore of my skin
My thoughts run deep
Into canyons where they dance
With shadow and light
Reflecting dreams transpired
Before they were ever dreams
I inhale the sweet scent
Of pinon pine and cedar
The stillness moves me
Silence embraces me
Reality chases me
But I will be back because
Pieces of my heart
Wait for me here
For dVerse poetics, “Adventures in Traveling”.
I am sitting in the dining car of a train…or am I floating on the lake?
Either way it was magical.
~
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/oops/
This lovely beast had no qualms about sticking his neck out for a treat. Photo taken at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. Enjoy some more treats at The Daily Post.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/treat/
No ideal life can be attained
The sun will shine above the rain
Let’s not be critical
Flaws are mystical
Perfection can be mundane
A contrast to my first submission, the endless white of snow reaches for the horizon on one of the Great Lakes. This will soon be the scene at the beach as we bid farewell to the warm blue waters of summer. Just thinking about it makes me very grateful for autumn.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/monochromatic/
As we traveled along a highway in Michigan, these clouds seemed to be eyeballing us all the way. They definitely added a creepy vibe to the morning sky. Check out more creepy photos over at The Daily Post.
Click to enlarge…if you dare.
Blue eyed boy boards a train
For northern lakes
And goodness sakes
For it trickles through his veins
Bending west along prairies
Crystal clear tributaries
Open mind steady
As the rails that carry him
And these winds beckon gently
As his gaze takes him further
Than his blue eyes can see
Past the pine and tamarack
More than transcontinental
This journey, monumental
A junction met
Between roots and risk
~
Written for dVerse – Open Link Night using Bill’s poetic prompt “All Aboard” where we were asked to write about trains.
Through these doors, one can only imagine the interior of Van Patten Mountain Camp, a historical resort built in 1897. It was worth the hike to see these ruins nestled in the Organ Mountains near Las Cruces, New Mexico.
A familiar scene on the Great Lakes as a large freighter pushes on despite being enveloped by the morning fog. The view is surreal from the shoreline though not as calming for the ship’s captain. Mother Nature provides many challenges for those who navigate these waterways, the largest freshwater lakes in the world.
Let’s go down to Memphis
Listen to some old time blues
That might be news to me
Feel the joy in the melancholy
As wailing guitars push out notes
Like potbellied tears
And tiny little diamonds
We’ll dance by the stage
With that sweet ol’ man with the cap
How do you say no
To a sweet ol’ man with a cap?
We will marvel
At the Beale Street Blues Boy
His portrait on the wall
The reason for it all
We’ll try those deep fried pickles
Savor the sweet tang of the ribs
Lip smackin’, hip packin’
As we sway to the rhythm
Of the house band
Let’s take a walk
Beside the muddy Mississippi
The sound of the sax
Rising softly at our backs
We’ll ride the horse drawn carraige
Lit up like Christmas
Because that is what you do
When you’re down in Memphis
Rest in Peace, Mr. B.B. King
(September 16, 1925 – May 14, 2015)
~
Dedicated to my friend, Ann and a road trip I will never forget.
At a nearby conservation area in Southwestern Ontario, hundreds of geese take up residence and this time of year, it can be quite a spectacle. These two honkers couldn’t seem to move fast enough as they chased others across the pond. Click to enlarge.
Be sure to check out more of life in motion at The Daily Post.
I take the scenic route, switchbacks, potholes
Where distance fails me, a few miles short of escape
Yellow lines divide freedom from catastrophes
Blue-grey blankets lie heavy in sapphire skies
Flaxen fields brush stroke my thoughts in gold
As roadside hawks circle to catch winds of grace
I succumb to the art of enlightenment
The blur of mile markers, dilemmas lost in transit
~
http://dversepoets.com/2015/04/21/poetics-of-the-road/
We are writing octets (eight line poems) for dVerse. Some of us incorporated the theme of the road or travel.
Agawa Canyon Tour Train in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario offers an amazing sightseeing tour beginning in the early morning. I took this photo of the flat screen monitor inside the train. Digital cameras mounted on this locomotive give you the engineer’s view. Eerie and beautiful.
Mist rises from a northern lake as we make our way towards the canyon.
Reflections from the morning sun only intensify the beauty framed by passenger windows. Some things are worth getting up early for.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/early-bird/
Sunlight on whiskers
Afloat in California
A sea lion’s throne
This gallery contains 5 photos.
One of the wonderful perks of living in Ontario is the ability to welcome and bid farewell to four distinct seasons. It encourages you to live in the moment and appreciate the obvious and not so obvious metamorphosis that takes place. Winter? It’s all a blur to me now. Check out more of it at […]
Claret cup hedgehog
Blushing red against grey spines
Spring in the desert
~
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/fresh-2/
~
Corran Ruins-McNeills Mansion is located outside of Wiarton, Ontario in Spirit Rock Conservation Area.
The walls of the mansion remain stoic in the sunlight despite obvious destruction.
Multicoloured brick is like artwork chiseled by the wind.
Nature is framed by open windows.
Time has blessed this place.
~
~
A slightly late submission for the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge. On a very memorable day with my step daughter and grand-daughter, this photo was one of a hundred others that I took at the Butterfly Conservatory in Niagara Falls, Ontario. These little beauties showcase symmetry with their striking design, while maintaining their individualism. It’s a beautiful thing!
http://www.niagaraparks.com/niagara-falls-attractions/butterfly-conservatory.html
~
Here is another interpretation of depth for The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge. Again, I was drawn to some photos taken in Lion’s Head, Ontario.
This has to be one of the most interesting hikes I have ever taken. Lion’s Head, Ontario is named for it’s lion shaped rock formation carved into the landscape. The winding trail to the top of the escarpment is a bit challenging but worth every step. You can take your time along the way, admiring a fairytale forest full of mossy rocks, twisted cedars and ancient birch trees. It is surreal. The story ends with this view over Georgian Bay. The varying depths of the water play with the palette of blue.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/depth/
http://www.explorethebruce.com/lions-head.php
Setting golden tones
First class seat for evening show
Dazzling in silence
~
Related posts: Serenity
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/serenity/
I had to respond again to the Weekly Photo Challenge!
These photos have been waiting for the perfect opportunity to present themselves.
Introducing…some odd, some quirky, some downright smirky…SIGNS!!
This gallery contains 7 photos.
No shortage of signs in Memphis… coaxing you from one hot spot to the next. Check out this week’s photo challenge at The Daily Post
Looking up at the “Eiffel Tower”, Paris Las Vegas Hotel
~
You can see more nighttime photography at
Image: Brooke Shaden “waiting to fly”
It is the longing
That shortens our days
Taking trips around the world
In paper planes
Diving perilously over
Our own dark skies
Only to come back empty
Pilot aborted, hope distorted
Deserted dreams repeated
Making over dramatic
Emergency landings
Before take off
~
For dVerse poetics, Grace introduced us to the most amazing, artistic photographer, Brooke Shaden. Her work is truly inspirational as a writing prompt.
Exploring nature’s playgrounds of white wispy clouds, chiseled mountains, ancient rock, soft sands and intricate cacti is at the top of my favourite things to do.
This week’s photo challenge brought me back to the desert.
Pelee Island is the most southern point of Ontario. Actually it is the most southern point of all of CANADA.
Canada is larger than the U.S.A. (just sayin’)
In the summer months, temperatures range between 75 and 81 degrees Fahrenheit with fairly high humidity on the island. Where I live it is not uncommon for temperatures to be in the high 80’s or low 90’s with the humidex factor during the summer.
From Leamington or Kingsville, Ontario you travel by ferry on Lake Erie (with or without your vehicle) about an hour and a half to reach one of the most peaceful places I have ever been. Our American visitors can hop a ferry from Sandusky, Ohio.
What do you do on Pelee Island?
Nothing.
That’s the beauty of it.
You will not find a Starbucks, a McDonald’s or even a grocery store. There are only a few restaurants (no chains), a fabulous little bakery and some unique craft stores. Pelee Island Wineries has 550 acres of vineyards, tours and a pavilion where they let you “grill” (or barbeque as we say in Canada) your own meat for a minor fee as you sip on a glass of your favorite wine. (We spell favorite…”favourite”, by the way).
You can camp here but I would recommend a cottage or one of their unique B&B’s.
Pelee Island is a migratory paradise for many varieties of birds so there are lots of photo opportunities. Nature surrounds you here and without the convenience of internet or consistent cell phone service, you can easily succumb to it’s lure.
Then there is something we’ve come to refer to as the “Pelee wave”. It is courtesy here to wave at every car in the oncoming lane. If you don’t…well…you are just grumpy.
You can rent a bike and in about four hours, ride the perimeter of the island. Sandy beaches on one side. Rocky terrain on the other…equally beautiful.
But nothing beats the sunsets…
These international bridges link two different countries, Canada and the U.S.A., sharing the same waterway and sunset skies.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/between-danielle-hark/
Out here
I could slip away
Fall through the cracks of
Time and existence
Mesmerized
By all that it is,
Unstirred and forsaken
Cosmic creation
A sweeping silence
That deafens the demons
And nourishes the soul
These are not bad lands
Does this blur have a beat?
My journey, my song
Is unwritten
Notes on pages
Lines on roads
Tarmac, tat-a-tat
Feeling kind of sick of that
Let me hear the wind
Drumming on mesas
Harmonizing layers
Of earth and sky
Tumbleweeds will try
To rock and roll my soul
And clouds can dance, you know
Written for dVerse Poet’s Pub
This week for dVerse Poetics, our prompt was the “rhythm of the road”.
Meet “Anne”, a sculpture by Leo Mol.
We met her on a visit to Sculpture Park in Windsor, Ontario near the Ambassador Bridge to Detroit.
I don’t think she was expecting this fellow to use her head as a look out.
~
Related Articles
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/22/photo-challenge-unexpected/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Windsor_Sculpture_Park
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leo_Mol
The colour of clay has a way
Of subduing the hues in my head
Earthy tones seduce me again
So predictably
Like an organic kaleidoscope
That doesn’t need to flaunt
To get my attention
~
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/18/hue-photo-challenge/
Sometimes you travel down a path
Before knowing you are on it
Time ticks and toys with your intentions
Space grows large enough to swallow you whole
Highways, byways lead to nowhere
Signs are non existent, lights are out
You surrender to the map of fate
Blindly hoping it will bring you back
To the warm, familiar place
You took for granted
To the smiles, the love, the laughter
Away from the “strange”
#18. “Food is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”
The last “best thing I ever ate” was a Green Chile Cheeseburger in Hatch, New Mexico.
What is green chile?
It is NOT a jalapeno.
It is NOT just a chile pepper that happens to be green. It is what it is…green chile.
There is nothing like it. The flavor is so unique and the first time I tried it, it reminded me that there is so much in life that I still need to discover!! I know, I know, it’s just green chile. My point is that along my journey of 50 (ahem) years, I have become more open to new experiences, new places, new people and new foods.
Life is too short to waste a minute saying “eww, what is that, I don’t think I will like it”.
Green chile is now a staple in our house as an addition to breakfast burritos, chicken enchiladas and my personal favourite, green chile stew. Yes, this Canadian girl can make a mean green chile stew. Hatch has it’s own brand of green chile and you can find it by the can in many local grocery stores. You can also buy it freshly roasted or roast it yourself!
My husband and I go “home” to New Mexico approximately once per year to visit his family. My father in-law has made it a tradition to drive to Hatch for the green chile cheeseburger experience. Consisting of the freshest ground beef I have ever tasted, a perfectly melted slice of cheddar and….drum roll please….a slathering of one of New Mexico’s greatest treasures…GREEN CHILE!
Hatch, New Mexico is located about 40 miles north of Las Cruces. Rows of red ristras dress up this quiet rural town and can be purchased for a reasonable price at many roadside markets.
Driving into Hatch, you would not expect to find any culinary magic happening here.
Actually you would not expect to find much of anything happening here.
Population: 1,680
Then you see it…a line of people gathered in front of a small restaurant called “Sparky’s”. This speaks volumes considering the unusual array of familiar, yet unrelated statues adorning the entrance. Maybe they are there to disguise the true identity of this gem. Seating is minimal, after all.
You can choose to dine outside with Ronald McDonald and Sparky the robot constructed from tractor parts or inside surrounded by even more whimsical decor. I know what you’re thinking, but trust me.
Whether you find this place to be amusing or just plain odd, one thing is for sure. If you’ve been here once, you will be here again….and again.
It may be a good thing I am only in New Mexico once a year because the spicy potato wedges and old fashioned milk shakes are also delicious!
So if you are ever in the area of Las Cruces, New Mexico, be sure to visit Hatch, the self proclaimed Green Chile Capital of the World.
What’s the last “best thing YOU ever ate” ?
With weathered wings
They take flight
Oblivious to our gaze
Graceful glide
Pace and stride
Bellies rise
Above our eyes.With weathered wings
They reach out to
Fellow feathered friends
Clumsily aligned
Directionally defined
Uplifting hearts
That long to fly
Canada geese departing from a dock on Lake Erie.
Not all passages are smooth
And some have traveled long
On winding, washed out trails
That led to nowhere
It takes so little
To pave their stony path
Tiny offerings of hope and comfort
Can burnish a bumpy road
I have never been afraid of flying thousands of feet above the earth in an aircraft of any kind. I am not afraid of heights. I do not carefully check out the passengers for potential terrorists. It doesn’t cross my mind that we may hit a large bird in mid flight and spiral nose first into the ground. Nah.
I am claustrophobic. The worst part for me is when we are boarding and I am waiting patiently anxiously for the plane to move. It hits me again after we have landed and the plane is taxiing on the runway.This phobia has been real for as long as I can remember but has only intensified in the last couple years.
My doctor suggested lorazepam. She said it was a great medication for this particular issue. When I hesitated, she reminded me that the one place I would not want to have a full out panic attack would be on a flight. I had to agree since I have already had visions of myself hyperventilating, rushing to the nearest exit door and hurling it into the sky, only to stick my head out for air. Needless to say, the rest of the passengers would soon follow me out with a massive vacuum like force. That would be visual number one. Number two would involve security, possibly some duct tape and a detour landing somewhere like Wichita, Kansas.
So I said yes to lorazepam, the lesser evil.
During my lifetime, I have never required any type of major medication. I was very skeptical, not wanting to use anything that was mind altering on my highly valued coconut for fear it would shred it into pieces. Besides the possible side effects, my main concern was that it was going to manipulate the “me” of who I am, if that makes any sense. If it takes away my fear of being in a confined place, then it is changing my mind. It is convincing me somehow that what I feel is not real. Now, that is a trip and the only trip I wanted to take was to Albuquerque, New Mexico.
As I waited by Gate A25 to board, I meticulously timed the taking of my magic pill so that it’s full effects would be in action before I stepped foot into that skinny “tube”. I was leery to take the whole pill, so I broke it in half.(I am the type of person that feels stoned the next morning after taking cough syrup.) Boarding the plane about a half hour later seemed easier than normal. Hmmm….I didn’t feel the grip of doom suffocating me as I entered the capsule. I took my seat by the window. Yes I know, you would think that I would want an aisle seat. ‘Claustrophobics’ want the aisle seats. Not me. If I am near a window, I can imagine myself OUTSIDE. Outside is good. That is where you want to be when you feel closed in. Makes sense, right?
After getting situated, seat belt on, electronic devices turned off, purse under the seat, etc. , I looked out my beloved window. Then I looked around the airplane. By now, the lovely lorazepam must have been working because my brain seemed to have another entity.
The conversation in my head went something like this….
I should be panicking right now.
You are not panicked.
But that is how I am supposed to feel. I don’t like being in small spaces. I hate airplanes.
That’s some cool information, dude, but sorry…..not feeling it.
But who are you to tell me that I am not afraid. I’m supposed to hate this.
I am your lorazepam brain. I rule at this moment.
I feel controlled by you.
You are.
I hate you.
No you don’t. You just think you do. Relax.
Ok, then I am going to pretend like you’re not here and I never was claustrophobic…and
…and
…oh wow….look at those clouds.
Thank you, Lorazepam.
#11.”The best fry bread I’ve ever had was made by an elderly Navajo woman at the edge of a dusty road leading to Shiprock, New Mexico.”
New Mexico is my other home. It was there that I met my husband and discovered a new landscape. I fell in love with both of them.
There is a peaceful feeling that I can only find there, a need to explore the rock formations and lonesome desert flowers, a desire to just sit and feel the sun caress my soul. I have had many opportunities to see the Land of Enchantment but this particular adventure will be forever imprinted in my mind.
This was a day trip in the Four Corners Area highlighted with a visit to “Shiprock”.
We were travlling on Red Rock Highway that takes you to this glorious sight. At the side of this deserted road, we could see the figure of an elderly woman dressed in a long dark skirt sitting by an outdoor grill of some type. As we drove closer, I insisted that we stop. My sons were with us and I believed this was one of those “once in a lifetime, you just have to stop” moments.
Getting out of the car, the aroma of oil and bread combined was surprisingly wonderful. The desolate desert backdrop transported us to a place of long ago, of recipes passed down….a place of simplicity, family and survival.
As we approached her, she smiled slightly, which pronounced the deep wrinkles set into her weathered face. Her long hair was pulled back with a beaded barrette but the dry wind of the southwest sent it in a few different directions. As she poked at her creation in a cast iron skillet, I noticed her hands. This was a working woman. She placed the fry bread on a paper plate and handed it to us.
I pondered about what this meant to her compared to what it meant to us.
This was her living. This was our…..hmm…..entertainment?
Fry bread was a common staple to her.
Perhaps to us it was an initiation into an unknown land that was only a privilege to visit.
We paid her the four dollars she had advertised with her cardboard sign and thanked her. The bread was round, flat, yet puffy, soft and warm…..delicious. Our first bite could not wait until we returned to our car. We were in the moment, cacti at our feet, surrounded by blue skies and sunshine. Most of all, I think we honored the old woman by eating it right away. It was too good to wait for. Driving away, I thought about the way we had a brief encounter with another place, another time and then we simply moved on. We leave it there and come away with a few photos and a memory. We carry on with our travels, our lives, our problems, our ways, but our past is someone else’s present. The native woman selling fry bread still sits there, waiting for her next customer to slow down, completely intrigued by her or maybe just hungry.
Shiprock is the name of the small town governed by the Navajo Nation as well as the amazing landmark itself. This magnificent peak rises 1500 feet above you, but it is not the height that makes this formation unique. It stands out in an otherwise barren and flat desert plain, and the shape of Shiprock reminds me of Disneyland. The only difference was that this magical place is real. Geologically speaking, it is a stunning tower of volcanic rock, the neck of a volcano that erupted millions of years ago, with rugged walls of lava leading out of it. To the Navajo people however, Shiprock is a sacred monument. They strictly prohibit anyone from approaching this religious and historical site that they call “Tse Btai”. As I looked towards this masterpiece of nature and the long, dusty road towards it, my husband warned me that we could only admire it from afar. That was fine with me. As much as I love to be hands on and this mountain screamed “climb me”, I found myself scanning the wide open desert, half expecting someone of authority to jump out of nowhere or fire off a few warning shots. It was not the only thing that stopped me from getting closer to Tse Btai. I felt a presence. It was as though a spiritual circle surrounded this beautiful creation. The Navajo have many stories and legends about their “rock with wings”. It didn’t matter what Shiprock meant to me because what it meant to others brought it to life.
This isn’t really about Shiprock.
It is about appreciating a natural wonder without touching it, without invading it, allowing the wind to be the only one to carve and caress it.
It’s about restraint and respect of others beliefs.
This isn’t really about the fry bread.
It’s about a quiet lady at the side of a dusty, desert road, trying to make a living and at the same time, upholding the traditional ways of her culture.
It’s about entering another world, another time, another feeling and then leaving it behind.
It’s an exchange between curiosity and a few dollars. It’s real. It’s pure. It’s sharing at its best.
My husband and I decided to take advantage of a cool but sunny spring day and take a hike at a nearby conservation area. A man passed by and told us there was “some kind of animal” sleeping up in a tree not too far ahead.
Sure enough, there it was……
….all curled up in the crook of a tree about 30 feet above us.
After taking a few pictures from the trail I quickly decided to get closer.
I always want to get closer!
I was afraid the sound of crunching leaves under my feet would wake him from his nap, but he did not move a muscle as I edged closer to the tree.
He (or she) was the size of a baby bear, but we were fairly confident that there were no bears in this neck of the woods!
He was completely undisturbed by our conversation and at one point, we wondered if he was actually alive.
His creepy little “hands” reminded me of a character in a fantasy movie.
At the same time, I was captivated by him.
He looked so snuggly, covering he eyes from the daylight as he slept.
We finally left him to his slumber. He’d never know that we were ever there.
After some photo editing and debate, we decided he was an EXTREMELY large……..
racoon.
This was a moment in nature I will not forget.
Some of the best things in life happen accidentally. That was the case when my husband and I took a scenic train trip in a more northerly area of Ontario.
Take the beautiful beaming sun, the large window of a train and the constant movement as we roll down the tracks. Mix it with a somewhat limited knowledge of photography and voila…..some strange but interesting shots.
Coupled clouds
From the dining car….
…or a floating restaurant.
Reflecting on a remote little cottage.
Would I like to live here? Uh…yes!
Blurring colors of trees
Eerie silhouettes as the sun rises
He’s looking forward…..I’m looking back…….reflecting.
Relax as we race
Pondering the landscape
Beauty repeated
Lakes can be mirrors
Rays of replication
Mirrors in the mist
On the outside looking in
Or from the inside looking out?
Or maybe there is no division….maybe we are just part of it all
The journey by train is over as the sun offers us one last moment of introspection.
Would you touch a snake? I had the opportunity. It was during an inspiring nature walk with my husband. The sun was warm and healing. The path we were hiking on led to a wooden bridge over a marshy area. I took my time inspecting the environment as my husband waited impatiently for me to continue on our journey. He should know by now that for me, it’s all about the journey. I spotted that snake basking in the sun. He didn’t seem to mind my curiosity as I stopped to say hello. Again, like seeing a mountain and not climbing it, I just had to touch him. I wondered how rough his thick skin would be and would he feel invaded. Just one little stroke is all I needed to know how he felt…..to experience something new. So I reached out to pet him. Can you pet a snake? His skin was rough, as I had imagined. He did not flinch. I did not flinch. Instead, I took that moment in. I had touched a snake. No regrets.
Mind sinking into neutral gear
While car just never stops
Blurs of beauty to my right
Desert dreams to my left
Hiking mountains in my mind
As colours sweep by in foreign hues
Land of enchantment at my door
But I can only take these shots
Good intentions, greater hopes
All but shatter in the wind
I reach to hold on to a cloud
As shadows race across the sky
Destination pushes on
Journey…………lost
My heart is pulling over
Aching for my feet to touch ground
mishunderstood 