Just over a week ago, we were fortunate enough to be asked to attend the Tower Bridge Dinner, that takes place on the bridge that spans the Sacramento River, in Sacramento. I never thought I’d get to go to this event. The tickets are very hard to come by and sell out immediately. When we got the call, we dropped everything else we were doing and said, “Yes!” It was a Farm to Fork event and the weather, people, and sunset couldn’t have been better. The photo doesn’t do it justice as it was taken with a phone but I hope you can see the magnitude of the event and get a feel for the good time that was being had by everyone.
Tower Bridge Dinner
Going to Seed in Explosive Fashion
What a difference a week makes. The tragedy in Las Vegas is now weighing on all our minds. I can’t make sense of it. It makes me force myself to listen to my own words. My poem, Daffodil Spring, has a final stanza that goes like this: So I give to my children Advice through their years, “Look for life’s colors, Lest you drown in life’s tears.” I leave you with that thought, and this photo, taken last weekend in the Sierra’s. What an explosive sight, this weed going to seed, gives off. So try to remember that the world, though it may be cruel, is also a magnificent place.
I recently went to France and stayed in Lyon as my last stop. It is a beautiful city and is the third largest city in France. I did not realize that walking about the city might lead me into neighborhoods that were not friendly to people who were not of their same religious beliefs. (I do think there should be an app for that, by the way.)
Stunning City Art
I am a firm believer in not talking about religion, politics, or weight. With that being said, I was so filled with the evil feeling that I received, I decided to write a poem about my experience. (That’s how I attempt to settle things in my mind.) I’m going to share the opening and closing stanzas with you. There are eighteen stanzas in-between as the opening and the closing stanzas are mirror images of each other.
Swans on the Rhone River
I walked the streets Of grand Lyon In a place, I, Should not have gone,
The evil that I found that day Is not a thing To wash away
This sleeping world Needs to awake, To realize What is at stake
If you would like the other eighteen stanza’s you can make a request at firstname.lastname@example.org and I will be happy to supply the entire poem for you. I am putting this out today because, as much as I tried to resolve what I felt that day by writing this poem, those feelings are still very much with me. I just can’t seem to shake them. So the moral to this blog is perhaps, as we age, we should try to stay on the main streets (when in a foreign place) as we are traveling through life.
Last weekend we rounded a curve on Hwy 70 and found the sun shining down on the hillside. It was beautiful.
I attempted to put a video, that I just finished, into my blog this week but I no longer have that capability. Here is the link to view it if you are not linked to me via Facebook https://vimeo.com/202985562
You can copy and paste and this should open up for you. It has photos, and music that I wrote, playing in the background. It’s only two minutes long. I hope you like it. I’ve been waiting for a while to share it with you. I hope you have a wonderful day. It’s a stormy one here in California. I hope this photo reminds you that the sun will surely shine for us soon.
A few years ago I traveled to Stony Creek Connecticut with the hope that I would view the old granite quarry lily pond that my grandmother had hoped to see one last time when she made her final journey to her hometown. She did not take photos of it, so I must presume, given the time of year, that she was not lucky enough to stop and marvel in its beauty once again.
Saw Mill Granite Lily Pond
I had envisioned that the entire pond would be filled with water lilies. There were many, but not as many as my imagination had conjured up. There were thousands of lily pads that appeared to be a delicious meal for some sort of hungry bug.
Single Lilies with Thousands of Pads
The surrounding buildings are as beautiful as the lilies are on the pond.
Pond Reflection on Stained Glass
A couple of years ago we went to stay at an old inn at the end of Linden Point Rd. I wrote a poem about the place and it is on page 65 in my new book “In Memory Of…” Little did I know how true the poem would become. I will share just a bit of it below this next photo. You can see to the left that the inn is no longer there. The people across this inlet bought the property and tore down the old house/inn. They wanted a less obstructed view. They took the two pine trees down as well but left the granite stone that had been used by the indians to grind grain. (It’s all in the poem.)
Once There Was An Inn & Then There Was None
This place where I am sitting
Comes to fill me with delight
I know some day it will vanish
Erased from memory, and from sight
Is there a place that you remember that may have vanished from this earth? Do you wish that you could view it one last time? Maybe it’s a good time to go and discover if your memories still exist in that place.
I recently drove from Southern California to Northern California through some road conditions that were less then wonderful. As I was driving there was an amazing sunset but I didn’t want to stop to take a photo because of the road conditions. I wrote the following poem to help my mind remember the colors that I saw. I hope you can visualize them too.
Storm Set Colors
This sunset that surrounds me
I haven’t a photo for
I’m driving North through cold slushy rain
But it’s colors, I adore
Bright bubble gum pink and glaucous gray clouds
Form a nimbus line to the East of me
Atomic tangerine with black cumulus legs
Hang eerily as far as I can see
Ochre grays and rusty coppers
Linger throughout the clouds
They push their way around me
Then they drop, rain pounds, out loud
A tiny patch of light blue sky
Glows off in the distant West
Illumnated rolling green pistachio hills
Front snow sprinkled mountain caps
I push on through the misting,
Through the downpours, and endless showers
Remembering the colors
The soft, bright, and wickedly gloomy,