Western Honeybee On A Meyer Lemon Blossom — Image by kenne
Lemon Blossom
Fragrance was her forte, and she wore it well. Swaying to Fado, eyes closed to this unfathomable longing delivered into song. She stayed close to you, scented like the flowers she was named for, until your knees weakened and all you could say was,*Yes. Yes, you are all I could ever want. Tonight, or any other night. Fragrant, dancing, loving life with every exquisite inclination of your beautiful, profound mind, your lovely, ripened body.
Many people ask why the east tower was never finished. The builders ran out of money. The whole church is unfinished—you can even see bits of murals penciled—but never painted—on the interior walls. It remains a work in progress.
Telluride A longing came over me, I must abide Loaded my pickup for the trip to Telluride The lord created the earth, but saved it for last Dallas Divide, marrow of the Earth, he cast Serenity, happiness there does not elude me, Among the San Juan Mountains as far as I can see Nothing created in the world can overshadow Majestic mountain beauty of Telluride, Colorado
We are approaching sleep: the chestnut blossoms in the mind Mingle with thoughts of pain And the long roots of barley, bitterness As of the oak roots staining the water dark In Louisiana, the wet streets soaked with rain And sodden blossoms; out of this We have come, a tunnel softly hurtling into darkness.
Purple Owl’s-Clover, Desert Poppies, and Western Honeybee On Sutherland Trail — Image by kenne
“I dream of a quiet man who explains nothing and defends nothing, but only knows where the rarest wildflowers are blooming, and who goes, and finds that he is smiling not by his own will.”
This book by Frank S. Rose is more like a bible for naturalists walking and hiking in southern Arizona. The abundance of wildflowers varies from year to year, and this year is definitely one of the better years.
“I was lying on the ground in Molina Basin, camera at the ready, attempting to photograph a flower. I had no idea what it was, but I had a list of the plants in the Santa Catalina Mountains. How, I wondered, would I connect what I was seeing through my camera lens with a particular plant on the list? Then I heard a woman’s voice. ‘Ooh, another plant photography.” I looked up to see two women approaching. The person who spoke introduced herself as Joan Tedford, and, to my delight and amazement, she was the person who had made this list I was using . . . Joan invited us to join a group that takes a weekly nature walk in the Catalinas. Every week for the summer and into the fall I happily followed the leader, Bob Porter, as we explored many different trails, noting plants, birds, and anything else of interest along the way. So began a ten-year adventure, some of the happiest hours of my life, spent in the company of Joan Tedford, Bob Porter, and other Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists who helped us explore the extensive trail system in this Sky Island range.” — Frank S. Rose
(Click On Any Of The Tiled Photos To See A Larger Image.)
“The Sonoran Desert is nature’s giant watercolor.”
A best, only a limited value In the knowledge derived from experience. The knowledge imposes a pattern, and falsifies, For the pattern is new in every moment And every moment is a new and shocking Valuation of all we have been.
