Hi, kids!
We made a flying trip to Saskatchewan,
Canada Saturday. If you get to Weyburn, the Welsh Kitchen on 3rd has homemade
breads, soups and baked good and they serve you with a smile! And, the health
food store is adjacent making shopping a veritable snap.
On to the report!
Lines lean.
(Western North Dakota has also been a
little wet.)
TALL barn.
I counted 17 wells in this ONE field.
POOR farmer.....(ya right.) The oil boom is alive and well in Saskatchewan!
"Hood" ornament.
Love the rusted
roof...
Weyburn wheat. (Gigantic metal sculpture
in downtown Weyburn).
The country was FULL of potholes. Each
pothole was FULL of ducks.
Love the dormer, mirroring the shape of
the barn.
Little black duck.
Pothole pair peer.
Pothole pair
paddle.
Water woes = bird bliss, as evidenced by
the napping goose on top of the bales!
Country church.
Stone house. Love the sassy brickwork
above the windows and door.
The stone work appears as solid as the
day it was built. I could live here - to look at the stone masonry daily would
be a treat!
This fancy relic sports FOUR lightning
rods. To me, this says that the place was a recurrent target for the monstrous
thunderstorms sweeping the prairies of the north.
Duck pond, South of the
border.
Meeting of the
minds.
For those of you former Wolf
Pointers....this is a new fertilizer plant located in the Macon Junction. To
get a grasp on the enormity of it, look at the size of the vehicles parked at
either end....
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
I am told that others gather inspiration
from my photos. I know of three artists who paint from them. One woman uses my
critters as characters in her children's stories and now I have learned of a
poet garnering inspiration as well. I'd like to share some of his work with
you. He told me that my pothole reflections were his "muse" for these poems.
Enjoy the poetry of Stuart Bruane!
Pothole reflection (#3)
You are nothing
Space
A void
Mist and oil
But when we meet
I fill you completely
We are one
Damage done
In that brief moment
I can think of nothing but you.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pothole reflection (#4)
I am broken
Even Mother’s crystalline fairies
Tear at my very skin
I am undone
The mad rushings of men*
Bear down upon me
Do not curse me
See…
You and I are the same
Traveler and traveled
Where do we begin and end
* Note: The pothole reflection
series of poems harken to a literary period where gender-inclusive language was
not the norm.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pothole reflection (#4, numerator
b)
We are the same you and I
Do we not both carry the burden
Of passing fortunes
And mindless progress?
Does not our evolving
Expand
And yet
Empty us?
Is not your heart broken too?
Yet on a clear day
After a rain
Our wounds reflect the passing clouds
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Our ideas, like orange
plants, spread out in proportion to the size of the box that imprisons the
roots." - Edward Bulwer Lytton
