Archive for the ‘The Woodlands’ Category

Late Bloomer   1 comment

Azalea Bloom-2-blogLate Bloomer (Azalea) — Photo-Artistry by kenne

In early spring the south and gulf coast are abound with azalea blossoms. When we moved to the Arizona desert from the gulf coast, we brought along a potted azalea plant. Each spring our little plant had many blossoms. However this spring there were no blossoms. But much to our surprise in September one blossom emerged. — kenne

Lake Robbins Bridge   4 comments

art-du-jour-lake-robbins-bridgeLake Robbins Bridge on a Foggy/Frosty Morning– Photo Artistry by kenne (March 14, 2003)

Enough sun breaks through
The foggy/frosty morning
Misty white to gray.

— kenne

A Study In Love   Leave a comment

Katelyn & Art FestThe Woodlands Artfest (April 2009) — Digital Art by kenne

Artfest in the woods
I don’t remember her name
A study in love.

— kenne

Foggy Morning   Leave a comment

FoggyWinterMorning0232 I blogFoggy Morning (The Woodlands, Texas, March 2003) — Image by kenne

The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.   

— Carl Sandburg 

“Yardwork” Art   Leave a comment

Yard Work - Pin Wheel c77a1 blog“Yardwork” —  Art by kenne

“yardwork”

jade plant
in a clay pot

a child’s old
pinwheel

a horseshoe
and barbwire

forming
windmill art

filed as
c77a1.jpg

dated
12/25/2005

— kenne

Days of Running are Getting Fewer   Leave a comment

Muddy Trails BashDays of Running are Getting Fewer with Each Passing Day (April 2010)  

Muddy Trails BashMuddy Trails Bash 5k — Photos by Joy

My running has become walking 5k each day. Trying hard to hang on to what I still have.
My current goal is to not become one of the stumbling undead.

By the way, there are some things that do change for the better —
I no longer wear white crew socks.

— kenne

This poem was written by a 19-year-old English army officer, Charles Hamilton Sorley, during World War I.

The Song of the Ungirt Runners

We swing ungirded hips
And lighten’d are our eyes,
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
We know not whom we trust
Nor whitherward we fare,
But we run because we must
Through the great wide air.

The waters of the seas
Are troubled as by storm.
The tempest strips the trees
And does not leave them warm.
Does the tearing tempest pause?
Do the tree-tops ask it why?
So we run without a cause
’Neath the big bare sky.

The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
But the storm the water whips
And the wave howls to the skies.
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
Through the broad bright land.

Morning Walk In The Woods   Leave a comment

SHadows on The PathMorning Walk in The Woodlands Texas, 2008 — Collage by kenne


Darkness in transition
Embracing the solitude

Pondering the moment
Filled with emotions

Posturing the thoughts
Consoled by pod music
Tempering the walk

Framed on the cover
Of the Rolling Stone
In the shadows of reality

Light in transition
Sharing the solitude
With morning shadows

Appearing in the light
Vanishing in the darkness

Stepping in alternation
Moving to the front
Moving to the back

Dancing to the music
In the shadows of reality

 

Kenne

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