Morning Skies, Dead Trees and Dirt Roads

"An Angel, robed in spotless white,
Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night.
Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone.
Men saw the blush and called it Dawn."
(Dawn by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

"The poetry of the earth is never dead." (John Keats)

"I look back with gladness to the day when I found the path to the land of heart's desire, and thank Fate ceaselessly with a loud voice that she did not permit town to sap all the years away while the heart was turning to wind-voices and flower-faces and the hands of kindly earth." (Marian Dudley Cran The Garden of Ignorance 1913)

(Photos: ril, Monday morning, 7 August 2017)

They Grow No Older

Yesterday was the birth day of an author and poet I have admired for years. This is one of his poems:

The Real Work

"It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings."

.......and another:

Woods

"I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.

Though I am silent
there is singing around me.

Though I am dark
there is vision around me.

Though I am heavy
there is flight around me."

Wendell Berry's birthday was yesterday. He was 83. The title for this blog post is from another of his poems entitled The Meeting.

It was while I was posting yesterday about Pete, now 86, and also thinking about Mr. Berry, that I realized I thought of both men as they were when I first met them some forty plus years ago. (In Pete's case in person, in Wendell's case via his writings.)  I have aged, but because I had no reason to think of them in terms of passing years, they were still, to me, in their 30's-40's.
It's the same when I see people I have not been around for years, I think of their children as being little, even though they may be the same ages as my children, it seems they grow no older. Does it work that way for you?

To Dream About An Artist

I rarely remember my dreams any more. I blame it on short term memory loss. I wake up with the remnants of what I was dreaming about but can't grasp enough to remember it.
Yesterday morning was different - perhaps because the dream was so crazy or maybe because it was about people so far in my past I had hardly thought about them in years.

First the crazy dream: Pete and Anna had come to visit us. I invited them to stay for lunch and was checking the cupboard and fridge to see what I had on hand to prepare - all the while also trying to talk with them. For some reason I came up with chicken noodle soup and sandwiches, but I didn't have enough soup and asked Bud to run to the store and get another can. He came back with the soup which is when I realized I should have had him get some rolls, too. Also, yikes! I didn't have any wine. Pete said that was okay, there was a bottle of wine in the hostess bag they had brought. That was pretty much the dream except that the kitchen was a mess either from me going nuts trying to find something to eat or because I had dirty dishes everywhere.

I met Pete the first winter after Denny and I were married and living on the south side of Des Moines. We decided to take an adult education art class at Lincoln High School; Pete was the instructor. Denny was a teacher in West Des Moines which may have led to the friendships we formed, but what cemented it was when someone in the class complained to the higher ups that they were dissatisfied with Pete as an instructor. We wrote a letter to the adult ed department defending him.
We met his wife, Anna, who later taught at Valley High School with Denny, and their two children. My friendship with them lasted until Denny and I divorced.
In addition to teaching art in the Des Moines Schools for 32 years, Pete also designed several sculptures located around the greater Des Moines area. I remember one of his first installations at Continental Western Insurance in West Des Moines.

The sculpture above is his design at the Park Fleur Condominiums.

Last fall I did see a news segment on TV about his latest sculpture installation in Clive.

It is called Radiance. Sadly, I learned when I googled Pete's name, it may be his last sculpture as he has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease.

Maybe that is why I dreamed about them - I needed a reminder to revisit, at least remotely, someone who was once part of my life. The other reason could be because I am reading a book about an artist and Pete is the most successful artist I have known personally.

I watched a 2014 you tube interview with Pete uploaded by the Italian American Cultural Center of Iowa. I not only learned things about him I never knew, I was reminded what an interesting, humble person he is.

Owl Awareness

Until hearing it on the noon news, I was unaware that there was an International Owl Awareness Day. Even Googling it I can't see enough information about it to understand its purpose.

The time I am most aware of owls is during the winter months when they seem to be much closer to the house and I hear them hooting late at night or early in the morning. For instance, the above picture was taken early in the morning on January 7, 2013.

Oh, yeah, I was very aware of this young Great Horned Owlet on the deck two years ago. But it was because the Blue jays were making such a fuss about it. Otherwise I probably would not have even known it was out there.

And I cannot think about owls without remembering this picture of my mom, Ruth, on the left and her sister, Lois with their dogs, Poochie and Trix and the owl they shot.

Woodsy Owl was one who had a big impact on caring for the environment when he was introduced in the early 1970's. His anti-litter and anti-pollution warnings caught on not only with children, but adults, too.

So, even though I don't understand exactly what it is or how I am supposed to be aware on International Owl Awareness Day,

I can turn to Owl from Winnie The Poo and listen to his advice: "This situation calls for an expert."

Getting The Story Straight

A couple weeks ago when I was "Chasing down Aunt Bertha" I mentioned two of her siblings and how I was still confused about Aunt Sarah. I think I finally have it straightened out.

Sarah Ann Lippincott was married first to Nathan C. Bozarth. This is a picture of them and their children.

Nathan died in 1897.

In 1898, Sarah married Caleb Connally. The "old crab" as noted by my grandmother on a picture of Sarah and Caleb.

In 1935 when Sarah died, she was buried along side her first husband.

Her brother Thomas W. Lippincott was the last of my great-grandmother's family members I had yet to account for. I thought he lived in Missouri, but found him in North Dakota.

Thomas married Sarah Delong in Union County, Iowa in 1874. The 1900 census has them in North Dakota. Sarah's maiden name seems to have been Boszart. Married first to Delong with at least one child, then to Thomas W. They had one son, David William Lippincott born in Prairie Grove, Iowa in 1876. In 1920 census he lived in Auburn, WA. He died in Oakland, CA in 1945.

Thomas' wife, Sarah Ann died in 1908 and is buried in Rosehill Cemetery in Lamoure, ND. I have not found a death date nor location for Thomas W. Part of the problem may be the different ways Lippincott is spelled.

At least I got Aunt Sarah Lippincott Bozarth Connally straightened out. I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. Maybe go on to tracking down some other long lost relatives.

A Song For My Fourth Birthday

I was out early this morning before the day was much more than a promise. Cardinals were singing from every direction. I wondered, as I always do, why?
Why are they singing as they do at springtime, but in August? Why don't I just accept their gift of song and quit wondering why?

"A day and then a week passed by:
     The redbird hanging from the sill
Sang not; and all were wondering why
It was so still ---
When one bright morning, loud and clear,
Its whistle smote my drowsy ear,
Ten times repeated, till the sound
Filled every echoing niche around;
And all things earliest loved by me, ---
The bird, the brook, the flower, the tree, ---
Came back again, as thus I heard
     The cardinal bird."
(From The Cardinal Bird by William Davis Gallagher)

Today is my youngest child's 46th birthday. He is my second son, third child. Do other mothers count the days of their children's births as their 'birth' days, too?

Rabbit, Rabbit August Already!

A month ago I was saying July Already, Really? Now it is August and I remembered to say rabbit, rabbit first thing this morning so it will be a lucky month.

And by lucky I mean we will get some rain. It is so dry the rabbit doesn't need camouflage.

He, or she, blends right into the dry grass.

Or into the shade offered by a small conifer. Rabbit, rabbit.

Remember the Gaillardia I wrote about June 20? The plants I liberated from down the street? They survived. I kept them faithfully watered and was rewarded this morning by this - which is also my first picture in August.
But before we venture too far into the month - a few wrap-up photos and words for July.....

This girl......Miss Lily.....is someday going to rule the world, or at least a major portion of it. She is so smart, funny, unafraid, aka - fearless. Just after I took this picture I made some comment about her taking off her sunglasses so I could take a picture without them and we could see her pretty blue eyes. She said: "You get what you get and don't throw a fit!" Oh my, I hope her kindergarten teacher is ready for her.

When we started into the house Bud looked up the road and said, "What's that? Something crossing the road?" This was about half a mile away and appeared as a dark spot. I have learned, since taking close-ups of the moon, that I can use the zoom on my camera to bring an object close enough to tell what it is. In this case, a flock of birds - probably eating grain spilled on the roadway.

Sometimes I just look at the image and other times I go ahead and take the picture because I can blow it up even more. It works better than binoculars for me. When I first saw this brown blob on the other side of the pond dam, I was afraid something had killed one of the geese. I was relieved to see it was just some dead weeds.

And my post about the volunteer plants coming up in the flower pots when I said I bet the zinnia in the hen and chicks would be pink? Um-hum. I was right.

For the whole month of July, I hadn't seen any birds at the feeders or on the deck. Yesterday these two showed up on the finch feeder and two doves flew down to the deck. Have they just been busy raising their young ones?

No birds includes no Hummingbirds. But this Swallowtail Butterfly has been enjoying the Mother's Day flowers Doug brought me.

Now, back to August, a month with several birthdays, the State Fair, the start of school and rain, please.