Eastern Bluebird — Photo-Artistry by kenne
He had a blue wing tattooed on his shoulder
Well, it might have been a bluebird, I don’t know
but he’d get stone drunk and talk about Alaska
The salmon boats and 45 below
Well, he got that blue wing up in Walla Walla
and his cellmate there was a Little Willy John
and Willie, he was once a great blues singer
so Wing & Willie wrote him up a song
— from Blue Wing by Tom Russell
Ye Vagabonds LP
I love British folk music — enjoy.
Old Man — Image by kenne
A Man’s a Man for a’ That
Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that.
Our toils obscure an’ a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,
The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an’ a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man’s a Man for a’ that:
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Their tinsel show, an’ a’ that;
The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor,
Is king o’ men for a’ that.
Ye see yon birkie ca’d a lord,
Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that,
Tho’ hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind,
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.
A Prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that!
But an honest man’s aboon his might –
Guid faith, he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their dignities, an’ a’ that,
The pith o’ Sense an’ pride o’ Worth
Are higher rank than a’ that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a’ that,
That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth
Shall bear the gree an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
It’s comin yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man the warld o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that.
—
Nature’s Art Wall — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This art is from a photograph of a canyon wall and like all things, it is living and has intelligence.
But, we like to think that it’s just a bunch of rocks and minerals, therefore not alive.
When I took the photograph I saw a wall alive, no different than a saguaro cactus,
and in the moment its being. By doing so, I brought my experience to the picture,
adding color, light, and contrast enhancing the natural beauty of the world around us.
It is alive and has intelligence.
— kenne
Mountain Wildflowers of Southern Arizona —
A Field Guide to the Santa Catalina Mountains and Other Nearby Ranges by Frank S. Rose
— kenne
Joan Tedford, Debbie Bird, Edi Moore, Heather Murphy, and Frank Rose (May 2, 2016) — Images by kenne
In this video, Frank Rose tells the story of how he met Joan Tedford.
Red Sky at Sunset –“Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light.” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
— Dylan Thomas
Singer-songwriter Mac Davis Dead at 78 — Source: soundslikenashville.com
Helen Reddy (October 25, 1941/September 29, 2020)
VAN MORRISON, 1972 – Another outtake from the Saint Dominic’s Preview
album cover session. Source: http://www.michaelmagic.com/
— kenne
In 2010 we experience our first Sonoran Desert monsoon season. There was lots of rain, wind and lightning.
This year’s monsoon season has been a nonsoon! So far we have had only 2 inches of rain.
This weekend’s forecast was for heavy rains and flash flooding — somebody stole our rain!
So, for this monsoon season the best I can do is revisit an August 31, 2010 posting. — kenne
Catalina Foothills, Tucson, Arizona — image by kenne
During this summer’s rainy season, many storms have provided much-needed rain to southern Arizona. However, when it comes to rainfall, not all areas are treated equally. We had received little rain till the other evening, so when the rain began, it was a time to rejoice. So much is special about the desert. I wrote a poem and produced a video. You can read the poem below and/or in the video.
Desert’s Rainy Season
Desert’s rainy season is
A product of summer highs
Mixed with atmosphere lows
Bringing a refreshing brief break
To her blue-skied summer heat
Desert’s wide-open spaces
Provide panoramic views
Showcasing threatening clouds
Only too often breakup
Before reaching your sky
Welcoming rains come
Only at Desert’s well
Playing havoc with forecasters
Never seeming to learn
She does not keep time
Wind shaking the trees,
Olive, palo verde and mesquite
Shadowed by rains wetness
Shining with each lightning flash
While drinking of life’s fountain
Olives falling from twisted branches
Rolled by wind over wet flagstones
Pounding rain leaving behind puddles
As rainwater exits through openings
In old pueblo walls
Wind chimes dance wildly
Ringing out in nervous joy
Desert’s unlocked sounds
Composing a melodic refrain
Proclaiming Desert’s delight
— kenne
“The poet makes a personal yet universal confession about the walls that bring suffocation to his life.
These walls are related to the social structure, the economy, religion, and much more.
The worst thing is not the existence of these walls, of these limitations of the free development
but the fact that the walls were created before us, so we cannot even notice
their existence and fight against them.”
Walls
— Constantine P. Cavafy
Joy — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
The Helga Pictures Poster Has Been On Our Bedroom Wall For Over 32 Years
— Photo-Artistry by kenne
Christina’s World–Source: Wikipedia
— kenne
Pee Wee Stephens, Pete Mayes, Grady Gaines, Calvin Owens, Joe “Guitar” Hughes,
and I don’t know the gentleman playing bass on the stage at Billy Blues (1999)
— Image by kenne
During our time living in the Houston area, Joy and I were very much into live music, especially the blues. Although there are still plenty of blues venues, many have passed with time. One such place was Billy Blues, on Richmond Avenue on Houston’s trendy westside. Regional and nationally known blues musicians played there for about seven years. Known for its 63-foot-tall saxophone made of Volkswagen Beetle parts and beer kegs, the venue never seemed to capture the same blues feeling of clubs in Houston’s working-class 3rd and 5th Ward communities. “I love the blues. It’s a feeling,” Martha Turner said to Roger Wood in his book Down In Houston: Bayou City Blues. “You got to feel a song, you know. When a person comes into a club to see you, they enjoy your expression, not so much as what you’re singing. They watch your face.”
“You watch this person sing a song,
and it’s almost like you’re doing it yourself.
Know what I’m talking about?
You enjoy that blues.
The Blues is something you can identify with.”
(Martha Turner)
During these trying times, what better way of coming together than with The Blues, and Buddy Guy reminds us,
“. . . you treat everybody just the way you want them to treat you.”
— kenne
Lyrics
I've been around a while I know wrong from right And since a long time ago Things been always black and white Just like you can't judge a book by the cover We all gotta be careful How we treat one another I say Skin deep, skin deep Underneath we all look same Skin deep, skin deep Underneath, don't we all look the same? A man in Louisiana He never called me by my name He said "boy do this and boy do that" But I never once complained I knew he had a good heart But he just didn't understand That I needed to be treated Just like any other man Skin deep, skin deep Underneath, don't we all look the same? Skin deep, skin deep Underneath we all look the same I sat my little child down When he was old enough to know I said "I fear in this big wide world You're gonna meet all kinda folks" I said "Son it all comes down to just one simple rule That you treat everybody just the way You want them to treat you" Skin deep, skin deep Underneath, don't we all look the same? Skin deep, skin deep Underneath we all look the same Skin deep, skin deep Underneath, don't we all look the same? Yeah Skin deep, skin deep Underneath we just all look the same (the same, yeah) Skin deep (treat everybody), skin deep Skin deep, skin deep All look, all look the same Skin deep, skin deep Don't we all look the same?
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