Shelter In The Storm   Leave a comment

Shelter In The Storm — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Cabin abandoned

Hikers aware of a storm

Seeking some shelter.

— kenne

Western Waterhole   Leave a comment

Cattle at Waterhole on Willow Springs Ranch — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Western waterhole

An oasis for cattle

Desert survival.

— kenne

“Farewell, faithful explorer.”   2 comments

NASA’s Cassini spacecraft disintegrated in the skies above Saturn in a final, fateful blaze of cosmic glory, following a remarkable journey of 20 years. (September 15, 2017) I love the Earl Maize quote. — kenne

Becoming is Superior to Being

Sunsets 12-06-15-9804 blogImage by kenne

“There are times in this world when things just line up
when everything is just about perfect.
A child’s laugh, a desert sunset and this morning.
It just couldn’t have been better,” 

said Cassini spacecraft program manager Earl Maize
as the spacecraft tumbled out of control while plummeting
more than 76,000 mph into Saturn.

“Farewell, faithful explorer.”

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Posted November 28, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Mt. Lemmon Fall Colors   1 comment

Hiking Mid-October on Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Fall colors abound

Creating a tapestry

On the mountain trails.

— kenne

Slim Pod Senna   2 comments

Slim Pod Senna Wildflower — Photo-Artistry by kenne

This is the only Senna growing above 4,500 feet in the Santa Catalina Mountains. — kenne

Posted November 28, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Cartoon du Jour   Leave a comment

The Promise of Next Thanksgiving — by David Fitzsimmons (Arizona Daily Star)

Missing The Kids In The Sabino Canyon   2 comments

Kenne with Elementary School Kids In Sabino Canyon — Image by Teacher

Starting in October of each year Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists (SCVN)
teach elementary school kids about nature five days a week, However, because
of the pandemic classes will not be coming to Sabino Canyon till at least next October. 

— kenne

Bad Trick   Leave a comment

Singer-Songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard at The Rhythm Room (10/30/14)– Image by kenne

Everybody Turns A Bad Trick Now And Then

Thanksgiving — Photo-Artistry   6 comments

This is a post from two years ago. My sentiment remains the same. Still working on the belonging part. This Thanksgiving, we are hibernating at home, where we belong. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! — kenne

Becoming is Superior to Being

Decorations (1 of 1) art-2-72.jpgThanksgiving — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Thanksgiving with kin

Years of working at fitting in

But do I belong?

— kenne

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Posted November 26, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Happy Holidays — 2020   2 comments

Photo-Artistry by kenne

Celebrating in the age of COVID

Making the most out of the Holidays

We remain blessed and thankful.

— kenne

I give to you from a place
“. . . where life is not counted by the clock and where the talented
may be sure they will be ignored until that time, if it ever comes,
when their gifts are viable enough to be set free and
survive in the world.”

— Lewis Hyde

Posted November 26, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Feel The Sun   2 comments

Cactus Wren On a Dead Limb — Photo-Artistry by kenne

“Our Earthly seasons are a consequence not of our proximity to our star,
but rather they are due to the 23.5 degree tilt of the Earth relative to the
Earth-sun plane, known as the celestial ecliptic. Literally speaking, axial tilt
is the reason for the seasons.”

Feel the Sun!

It’s Time To Be Grateful   2 comments


Image by Tim Lahan 

 

 

Ode to Flight Attendance is in the December Issue of The Atlantic

It’s time to be grateful.

For the courtesy, even when (especially when) it is feigned or forced. For the big, brassy hellos as we all file onto the plane, and the smaller, lines-around-the-eyes goodbyes as we all file off again, having gotten to know one another a little better. For the canned speeches over the in-flight PA—always somehow invested with a fillip of real feeling—and the limp theater of the safety demonstration, the long-suffering puff into the tiny tube on the life jacket. For the metallic backstage atmosphere of the galley, where they sit with thrillingly off-duty faces next to plastic glasses of trembling cold water. In the air, they are charming threshold guardians; on the ground, they rush past us in a chatty flock while we’re stuck in the customs line. It’s time to be grateful for flight attendants.

I recently flew from Boston to London. The airport, the plane, and the flight attendants themselves were sorely afflicted with the subvirus of emptiness. The rituals were observed—the drinks trolley was trundled up and down the aisle; sad snacks were handed out—but the interactions were mask-muffled and the faces unreadable. None of those little flourishes or raised eyebrows. None of those soothing noises. We were strangers to each other. A great body of flight-attendant knowledge, of shrewdness and sympathy, saucy percipience, long acquaintance with every sort of passenger—Foot-in-Aisle Man, Sir Talks-a-Lot, Princess Wi-Fi—seemed to have been rendered inert.

It made me think. About the exquisite management of expectations that goes on up there, about everything that flight attendants do to convince you—in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary—that you are having a faintly classy experience. They minister, they mollify, they bring blankets, they do de-escalatory jiu-jitsu with alcoholics and exploding parents, and then they walk around with a plastic bag, collecting trash.

Have I been a good passenger, over the years? Not too needy? Thankful when appropriate? There was the flight where I burst into tears, with biological promptness, every 20 minutes. The flight where I wore a jacket that stank so vengefully of cat urine that the man next to me asked to change seats. The flight where, still dazed from a sleepless night in San Francisco, I looked out into the golden loft-space above the clouds and saw my whole life shining like the sun. At all times I was managed discreetly, treated respectfully; I hope I was respectful in return.

Ever seen a flight attendant burst into tears? Or encountered one who smelled of cat? It doesn’t happen. In a shadowy time, in a hooded time, give me the breastplate of professional cheeriness. Give me that shiny casing of industrialized hospitality and presentability—and if it’s only an inch deep, all the more heroic.

 
JAMES PARKER is a staff writer at The Atlantic and the author of Turned On.

Posted November 25, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

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Crossroads   Leave a comment

Life is all about creating crossroads where they don’t exist. — kenne

Thoughts and Writings on Mental Health and Mindfulness

Life doesn’t always go easy. At times, we can feel like we are in the spin cycle of a washing machine, and we come out damp, still ravished in stains from bleeding knees. The bleeding knees were from falling down too many times, trying to get back up, only to stay on those knees praying in the sharp gravel. The gravel being on the crossroads, a very real path that can diverge in front of us during our lifetime.

Sometimes the path is hidden and we need to search for it, or take the chance and instead of going left, we venture right. Yet, how do we ever know if the “right” path is the way? There are also times when the crossroads is more clear. It is when we find ourselves parting ways with others, people that we can no longer coexist with. Sometimes, instead of parting ways physically…

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Posted November 25, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Sonoran Desert Wolfberry   2 comments

Sonoran Desert Wolfberry — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Brilliant green and red

Colors of the holidays

Painting the desert.

— kenne

Stages   Leave a comment

Wildflower Stages of Life — Photo-Artistry by kenne

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility.

Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

— Robert Browning

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