Archive for February 2014
“Bring In The Clowns” — Rodeo Clowns Photo Essay by kenne
The Rodeo Clown
I’m the unsung hero standing
Out here on the floor.
My job it is important and quite a
Dangerous chore.
My adrenaline starts kicking when I
Hear the crowd roar.
I’m the rodeo clown and I perform a
Side show on the floor.
Eight seconds are a lifetime when your
Riding on a bull.
No matter which bull you draw it’s an
Unpredictable duel.
As I watch behind this barrel I wonder
Who’s the bigger fool.
I’m the rodeo clown and I protect the
Rider from the bull.
— Ken Ellis
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Bull Rider — Computer Painting by kenne
Rodeo Dreams
The bulls and the clowns
The ups and the downs
He’s hooked on this eight-second ride
The spurs and the blood
The dust and the mud
This will be his first time to ride
His one chance at stardom
His one chance at fame
She doesn’t want him playin this game
She told him no, but he just had to go
On with his rodeo dreams
Just him and his rodeo dreams
The golden belt buckles
The cowboy’s white knuckles
Maybe he won’t take the fall
The black cowboy hats
The boots and the chaps
He ended with the worst mark of all
His one chance at stardom
His one chance at fame
She doesn’t want him playin this game
She told him no, but he just had to go
On with his rodeo dreams
Just him and his rodeo dreams
The last time she saw him, he was ridin that bull
Now that he’s gone no one will ever know about
His one chance at stardom
His one chance at fame
She doesn’t want him playin this game
She told him no, but he just had to go
On with his rodeo dreams
Just him and his rodeo dreams
She told him no, but he had to go
On with his rodeo dreams
Just him and his rodeo dreams
By Dawn
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Tucson Rodeo Bull Riding — Photo essay by kenne
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“Hi, Little Friend” — Image by kenne
There comes a point in your life
when you realize who really matters,
who never did, and who always will.
– Unknown
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“The Ultimate Sacrifice” — Image by kenne
It is common when leading nature walks in Sabino Canyon to talk about the signature cactus of the Sonoran desert, the saguaro. One of the common bits of information is to point out how the young saguaros are near trees that help provide protection to this very slow-growing Sonoran desert plant. These trees can be mesquite, palo verde or ironwood trees, and are referred to as “nurse trees.” The faster-growing nurse tree provides shade and shelter from the harsh desert elements, and as the saguaro grows, becoming more acclimated to the desert sun, the nurse tree may die, leaving the saguaro alone. As the saguaro grows larger it may compete for resources with its nurse tree, especially where several saguaros are receiving protection from the same tree, which may hasten its death. Even so, the faster-growing tree will not outlive the typical life of a saguaro cactus.
kenne
“Sacrifice is a part of life. It’s supposed to be. It’s not something to regret. It’s something to aspire to.”
― Mitch Albom
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Father And Daughter — A Day In The Canyon — Computer Painting by kenne
There’s something like a line of gold thread
running through a man’s words
when he talks to his daughter,
and gradually over the years
it gets to be long enough
for you to pick up in your hands
and weave into a cloth
that feels like love itself.
— John Gregory Brown
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“Morning Call” (Cactus Wren Atop A Saguaro Cactus In Sabino Canyon) — Image by kenne
We hear your birdcall
Where attention is your game
At the light of day.
— kenne
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Mexican Poppies Along The Phoneline Trail In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Mexican Poppy and Desert Lupine Wildflowers Along The Phoneline Trail — Image by kenne
Most Sonoran desert wildflowers are annuals, which are short-lived even when there’s timely rain. Sabino Canyon has had no rain since December 20th. Oddly enough, limited rain and a short lifespan helps ensure survival in the desert. With the lack of rain and warmer than normal temperatures the annuals have been quickly sprouting and blowing before the dryness and heat kills the plant.
kenne
“To see a world
in a grain of sand
and heaven in a wildflower.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
and eternity in an hour.”
— William Blake
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Carpenter Bee On Brittlebush Blossom — Image by kenne
“If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly our whole life would change.”
— Buddha
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Nature’s Tapestry — Image by kenne
Tapestry
My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision of the ever changing view
A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold
Once amid the soft silver sadness in the sky
There came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by
He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leather hide
And a coat of many colors, yellow-green on either side
He moved with some uncertainty, as if he didn’t know
Just what he was there for, or where he ought to go
Once he reached for something golden hanging from a tree
And his hand came down empty
Soon within my tapestry along the rutted road
He sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad
It seemed that he had fallen into someone’s wicked spell
And I wept to see him suffer, though I didn’t know him well
As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared
A figure gray and ghostly beneath a flowing beard
In times of deepest darkness, I’ve seen him dressed in black
Now my tapestry’s unraveling, he’s come to take me back
He’s come to take me back
— Carol King
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Saddle Bronc Riding At Tucson Rodeo — Images by kenne (Click on any image to see slideshow.)
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Little White Rose — Image by kenne
BY HUGH MACDIARMID
(To John Gawsworth)
The rose of all the world is not for me.
I want for my part
Only the little white rose of Scotland
That smells sharp and sweet—and breaks the heart.
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Wild Mushrooms Late On A Spring Day — Images by kenne
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Two-tailed Swallowtail Butterfly (February 21, 2014) — Image by kenne
Swallowtail
a floating lightness
effortless Waving..
a particle transforming
black to yellow
then to thin air..
lighting on shrub
but not really..
energetic reminder
empty space
is not empty…
— CharlesC
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“Whiskey Cowboy” — Computer Painting by kenne
“Every trail a man rides down is changed forever by his passing;
The twig is bent, the stone is turned–each adding, in a fashion,
To the markers that define the path and guide those who come after…
Who share the skill, the lore and even common laughter.”
— from the poem, “Handy”, author unknown
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