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© etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
Magnolia Wind is a tender old ballad from Guy Clark, a country music songwriter and performer (November 6, 1941 – May 17, 2016). Magnolia Wind has been a favorite of mine for years, and I found the song and Guy Clark’s story by way of John Prine, one of a number who covered this classic. According to Guy Clark, Magnolia Wind is “a made-up song about some boy who’s in love with Sis [Draper]”, a fiddle-player who taught Shawn Camp, the song’s co-writer, to play fiddle. No wonder it’s become a cherished part of the legendary, story-telling culture of country music.
The magnolia is a large and ancient variety of aromatic flowering plants, a genus that’s been around for up to 20 million years. I don’t have any in my yard, but neighbors do, and I do my best to capture something of the magnolia’s brief but sumptuous blooming period in the spring. The blooms don’t last long. Much the same as the lyrics, “it’s here and it’s gone on a magnolia wind.”
Happy Earth Day!
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© etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
A boat. The horizon.
Sun risin’.
Elemental calm.
Over the ocean.
© Etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
It was a foggy, wet, and gloomy morning last week, when five deer came by to spend the day. Their visits aren’t unusual. This time, I was working at the computer upstairs when I noticed them standing, rather oddly, staring back into the trees. Two, at first, then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. They were all standing fairly motionless and seemed to be looking in the same direction. Soon afterwards, they began wandering, as I’d expect, nibbling on whatever food morsels they find on a cold, not-quite-frozen morning. Not much later, I saw one, and then another, bend and lower its front legs, and bring itself to a resting position on wet leaves in the back part of the yard. I’ve seen them do this on hot summer afternoons too, in the ivy, in the same area, but the shady bed of soft, cool ivy on a muggy July afternoon seems more appealing than the soaked cushion of wet, leathery oak leaves on a cold December morning.
They spent much of the day in the yard as I moved downstairs to work in the kitchen, and they were close enough, it would seem, to be aware of me through the nearby windows. They nibbled on what they could find, they chased each other, and they rested, not far away, as I busied myself with a new recipe.
Deer shouldn’t be so comfortable around people, but the unfortunate reality is humans continually reduce the availability of larger wooded areas, while deer need to scavenge for nourishment. They still move with the agility and strength of the wild, and yet their appearance is gentle and unthreatening, and their nearby presence brings something like a mutual recognition. It’s probably not the way it should be, nevertheless, one can do worse on a cold, wet, December day than to look out and enjoy the company of five deer nearby.
© Etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
Please visit my other blog, Clover & Ivy, https://cloverandivy.wordpress.com.
I post mostly nature photos there.
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Etikser
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
Don’t wish it away
Don’t look at it like it’s forever
from Elton John’s “That’s Why They Call It the Blues”
lyrics by Bernie Taupin
photographed september 4, 2020
Evening walks feel different now. Sundown comes earlier, for sure. But it’s more than that.
Is it the seasons? People? Maybe people are tired of walking the same paths, the same trees, the same curves and dips in the surface. Parents tired of getting their kids and their bikes down to the trails, skinned knees, everybody trying to get along and enjoy nature. Or maybe it’s the kids who are tired of it. Maybe they’re getting ready for school, however school is going to work this year. I think there are fewer people walking the trails.
But it’s not just people. What was alive, thriving, robust, a month ago is starting to fade. I’m avoiding the words.
I look around and I see sad. Maybe lonely. Past the prime. On the way to a harsh reality I’m not ready to deal with.
There are fall flowers, but the brush is almost down to leafless sticks in many places. It can make you careless because there’s still poison ivy among whatever is growing. Already in September, trees are skimpier. Not bright fall colors and dropping leaves en masse, but leaves are weathered, and when you look up now, you see more sky than lush green. In July I could only hear moving water somewhere behind all the green, but now I can see right down to the creek.
Even the dirt looks pale, anemic. Surely the dirt doesn’t change.
September sunsets are lovely. Pale bits of amber light make it past the lowest branches. And September’s pretty wildflowers let you pretend. For just a little longer. But, ready or not, change is on its way.
etikser 