“Can’t Get Enough of You” Honey Bee Hugging One of the Richardson Geranium Stamen — Image by kenne
Blending with nature
Let me hold you in my soul —
Rest in history.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Bees’ Category
Can’t Get Enough Of You — Creative Reparation Leave a comment
Mexican Bird of Paradise Art 1 comment
Mexican Bird of Paradise Art by kenne
Bird of paradise
Mexican style in Tucson
Attractive to bees
— kenne
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I walk With The Wind Leave a comment
Image by kenne
I walk with the wind
hand in hand
moving with the flow,
only to stand strong
when life takes
a wrong turn
from which I learn
there are no
wrong turns
only unknowns.
— kenne
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“. . . again I encounter” Leave a comment
“. . . again I encounter” — Image by kenne
. . . again I encounter you
near the yellow meadow
having lost your glow,
ah, where has it gone?
— kenne
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Desert Grunge Art 1 comment
Desert Grunge Art by kenne
“The more a person knows of himself,
the more he will hesitate to define his nature
and to assert what he must necessarily feel,
and the more he will be astounded
at his capacity to feel
in unsuspected and unpredictable ways.”
— Alan Watts
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Bee On Thistle Grunge Art Leave a comment
Bee on Thistle Grunge Art by kenne
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
we need bees, and
bees need you!
— Friends of the Earth
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Lavender, Blue and Yellow Leave a comment
Lavender, Blue and Yellow — Image by kenne
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Bee On Fairy Duster Leave a comment
Bee On Fairy Duster — Image by kenne
Insect lover of the sun,
Joy of thy dominion!
Sailor of the atmosphere,
Swimmer through the waves of air,
Voyager of light and noon,
Epicurean of June,
Wait I prithee, till I come
Within ear-shot of thy hum,–
All without is martyrdom.
— from The Humblebee by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Can’t Wait! Leave a comment
“Can’t Wait” — Image by kenne
The two images in this collage were taken January 31, 2012, in the Tucson Mountains west of Tucson. We haven’t had a chance to hike in the Tucson Mountains yet this year, but the wildflowers tend to be earlier there compared to the Santa Catalina Mountains where we do most of our hiking. Since I can’t wait till we have a chance to hike in the Tucson Mountains this spring, I’m sharing there from five years ago. (Click Here For Flickr Slideshow)
— kenne
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Bee On Camphorweed — Grunge Art 1 comment
Bee On Camphorweed — Grunge Art by kenne
nature
is the cradle
providing a
dominion
for my images.
each image
has its place,
putting down
roots
in wandering
eyes
passing by.
— kenne
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Become Happy, or Be a Philosopher Leave a comment
Chicory Wildflower & Bee — Image by kenne
By all means marry;
if you get a good wife,
you’ll become happy;
if you get a bad one,
you’ll become a philosopher.
— Socrates
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Morning Walk 1 comment
Western Sneezeweed and Honey Bee on Mt. Lemmon — Computer Art by kenne
Morning Walk
The morning air is dry
the sky is blue
a perfect time, thereby,
for a walk with you.
— kenne
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Your Life is Your Life 3 comments
Flower & Bee Art — Computer Art by kenne
The Laughing Heart
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
— Charles Bukowski
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Please Snuggle Up Close 3 comments
“Please Snuggle Up Close” — Bee on Western Sneezeweed by kenne
Please snuggle up close
I know your stay will be short
Make the most of it.
— kenne
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Nature Photos and a Morning with Whitman 2 comments
Beebalm Wildflower (Oracle Ridge Trail, August 5, 2016)– Image by kenne
I’m reading Whitman this morning and one my favorite selections is the first stanza in
“Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking,” one sentence, twenty-two lines long.
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if
they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings and
fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as if
with tears,
From those beginning notes of yearning and love there in
the mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such as now they start the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither, ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man, yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.
— Walt Whitman
