Monkeyflowers On Mt. Lemmon   Leave a comment

Monkeyflowers On Mt. Lemmon (June 11, 2021) — Image by kenne

Sometimes when writing

I take whatever words come,

like a drifting boat. 

— kenne               

Canyon Painting   Leave a comment

Canyon Painting — Photo-Artistry by kenne

“The likelihood that your acts of resistance cannot stop the injustice does not exempt you

from acting in what you sincerely and reflectively hold to be the best interests of your community.”

— Susan Sontag

Fear and Pain, a Gift…#336   Leave a comment

Elizabeth is very good at putting into words her thoughts and feelings. Take a moment to read. — kenne

The Last Chapter

 
It is through what I call a “brain fog” that I create “Fear and Pain, a Gift”.  I try to gather and put upon paper my thoughts.  I have stopped thinking of a day, one, two etc.; they run together and get in the way of what I want to say.  I send immense love to all of you, so many have kept me in their thoughts, as I have you.  You will never know how precious your prayers are to me.  EAJM

Fear and Pain, a Gift  


What is growing old all about?

It is not a new question for me,

I have given thought to the

Subject since I was young.

Unloved by my mother, though

I always loved her dearly; she

Was emotionally absent in my

Life; as was my daddy in many

Ways. So, at the start of this

Flight into the Imagination, the

Answer was…

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Posted June 15, 2021 by kenneturner in Information

The Southwest Is Burning   Leave a comment

A post from June 14, 2012. Every June, nature puts the southwest through a ‘ring of fire’ to get the monsoon rains, and this year is no different. Even drought-resistant plants are struggling. — kenne

Becoming is Superior to Being

“The Southwest Is Burning” — Image by kenne

The Southwest Is Burning

Natures Beauty Lost In Time

Dry Eyes Become Glassy.

— kenne

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Posted June 15, 2021 by kenneturner in Information

Desert Morning — Abstract Art   1 comment

Desert Morning — Abstract Art by kenne

The rivers are dry
Residents are out early
A mourning dove coos.

Record temps daily
Excessive heat warnings out
Thank God for AC.

— kenne

 

Mt. Lemmon Is Dry!   4 comments

Mt. Lemmon Is Dry — Image by kenne

The Summer monsoon officially starts today.

However, nature didn’t get the message.

Whether in the desert valley or the mountains

the drought continues to preach the southwest.

Will this monsoon season be another nonsoom?

kenne

Walking With The Girl   Leave a comment

Photo-Artistry by kenne

Walking with the girl

I miss her stroking my soul

A watchtower’s voice.

— kenne

Ocotillo Blossoms   1 comment

Casa Grande Ruins

Ocotillo Blossoms — Image by kenne

This gray stick of thorns

Will blossom the torch of peace

Loved by hummingbirds.

— kenne

 

Six Seconds of Terror   Leave a comment

This is one mean bull. We stayed overnight in Cripple Creek a few years back — great little town with lots of little storefront casinos.

Photographer S. W. Krull Imaging

Went to the Top of the World Rodeo in Cripple Creek today… not much of an effort as the event is about two blocks from my house…

I have hundreds of images to process and a fair amount of video, but I had to get this clip out right away! Jimmy the bull didn’t want to go back into the pen after his ride… When they finally got him back behind the gate he decided he didn’t want to stay… six seconds of terror ensued, watch to the end!

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Posted June 13, 2021 by kenneturner in Information

Aspen Loop One Year Out After The Big Horn Fire   5 comments

SCVN Friday hikes on Mt. Lemmon have

Begun with more excitement than usual,

Last year’s hikes being a casualty of the

Big Horn Fire and the pandemic.

Marshall Gulch #3

Marshall Gulch Parking Area

Leaving behind morning temperatures

In the mid-eights, we gathered at Marshall Gulch

To hike the Aspen Loop, combining the Aspen

And Marshall Gulch trails for a 4.3-mile hike.

 

Marshall Gulch survived the fire, as did

Most of the trail. But the Aspen Trail

Wasn’t so lucky with parts that burned

From the 1993 Aspen Fire burning again.

Aspen Trail (June 15, 2015)

Over the years, I watch aspens and pines

And many other native plants return

Among the charred remains of the Aspen Fire

Only now to experience that same fate.

Last year’s fires were followed by the driest year

On record, delaying the reclamation process

And trail clearing to provide for safe hiking

On the grayest powder covering the trails.

The mountain ferns were among the plants

To return only weeks after containing the fire,

Providing hope to those grieving over the lose

Of so much beauty found on these mountain trails.

Now so exposed, the trail seems longer

Each step requiring a watchful eye

For this out of shape hiker, navigating

The loose gravel and ankle turning rocks.

Just beyond the ridge, a line of trees

Was missed by the very erratic wildfire

As if it turned on a dime, redirecting

The firefighting crew from Montana.

Soon the trail turns away from the freshly

Scared land rambling among tall ponderosas

Shadows formed by the whole clear

Cloudless sky moving across the trail.

Images by kenne

I’ve hiked the trails on Mt. Lemmon

Now ten summers, where troubles cease,

untangled silent knowledge contemplating

A void in a world that exceeds stillness.

— kenne

Hawking Pizza In Tucson   Leave a comment

Hawking Pizza In Tucson — Image by kenne

Hot days of summer

One hundred ten in Tucson

Always pizza time.

— kenne

The Rose Garden   3 comments

White Roses — Photo-Artistry by kenne

T. S. Eliot’s poem, Burnt Norton, begins:

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.

Still in the first section:

What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened 
Into the rose-garden. My words echo

Thus, in your mind.
                                  But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on the bowl of rose leaves
I do not know.
                                   Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrust? Into our first world.

The first section ends:

Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

Eliot’s entire poem, which in the present, captures both the past and future.
The rose garden is an idyllic place that can never be fully realized but is present in every moment.
It is the present that captures all of the temporality and hence all of our possibilities. 
The concepts of “past, present, and future” are merely abstractions, and the only real reason
we can make these distinctions is because of the present experience. Thus, time is a metaphorical
“hall of mirrors” — where the present encapsulates all that has occurred and all of what is to come.
It is through the reflection of the present that we can see all time.

— kenne

Posted June 12, 2021 by kenneturner in Information

Forest Floor   6 comments

Forest Floor — Mixed Art by kenne

Old age is but the reduced ability and fitness to do something in mind and body.

— kenne

Pond Slider — No Words Friday   Leave a comment

Pond Slider (Lake Houston, October 25, 2013) — HDR Image by kenne

 

To the man, to the woman . . .   2 comments

Photo-Artistry by kenne

To the man, to the woman
who utilized their
energies, goodness, strength,
anger, love, tenderness,
to those who truly
alive
flowered,
and in their sensuality matured,
let us not apply
the measure
of a time
that may be
something else, a mineral
mantle, a solar
bird, a flower,
something, maybe,
but not a measure.
Time, metal
or bird, long
petiolate flower,
stretch
through
man’s life,
shower him
with blossoms
and with
bright
water
or with hidden sun.
I proclaim you
road,
not shroud,
a pristine
ladder
with treads
of air,
a suit lovingly
renewed
through springtimes
around the world.

— from Ode To Age by Pablo Neruda

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