The whale’s sonar began to click through my body. Click-click-click.

sperm-whale

Dr. Philip Hoare: wsj.com: Swimming with Sperm Whales in the Atlantic Ocean:

“I’d been fascinated—obsessed, really—with whales since I was a boy…It wasn’t till the year 2000 that I came face-to-face with the real animals, on a whale-watching tour off the coast of Cape Cod. Nothing compares with the sight of a 50-foot, 50-ton humpback breaching a dozen yards off your boat, surrounded by a halo of glistening sea spray…

…The water was calm and the animals were socializing at the surface. There was no time to put on my wet suit; I jammed on my fins, pulled on a mask and snorkel and squeaked over the side of boat—and into the profound…Suddenly, there they were, only a bus-length away: more than a dozen leviathans. My vision was wall-to-wall whales. I could feel my heart beating hard against my rib cage. The largest of the animals detached itself from the pod and began to swim directly at me…

…The whale kept on coming. “OK,” I thought. “It’s either going to ram me with that enormous head—or it’s going to open its mouth at the last moment.”

…But just as I was reconciling myself to the inevitable, I felt—I didn’t hear—the whale’s sonar begin to click through my body. Click-click-click. Through my skull, through my sternum, its exquisitely accurate echo location scanning me like an MRI…The whale came within an arm’s reach. I could have touched it, but I knew that wasn’t part of the contract. It turned on its side and looked me right in the eye. It was a look of sentience, and of comprehension…

…Then the whale dove into its domain, from the blue into the black below. I laughed to myself, out of relief or ecstasy. That night, when I closed my eyes, the whale swam into my head. It’s still there now.

Read Dr. Hoare’s full article: Swimming With Sperm Whales in the Atlantic Ocean. Find his book here: The Sea Inside.


Notes:

Running. In Search of Inspiration.

yoga,photography,black and white

Day 3. Contemplating a third consecutive day of running. The body was saying No. The Heart was saying No. The Head was saying take the day off.

No inspiration to run. No inspiration to write. (Yet, you seemingly have an abundance of inspiration to eat. Go figure. You think these things would balance themselves out. Laws of nature and all that. Wasn’t that Darwin?)

Who is she? The photograph up top.  No idea. But there she was.  Stretching. Graceful. Peaceful. And pointing the way to the front door. (Out Butthead. Out!)

On the continuum of awful to ethereal, the morning is rated as sublime. (I could never figure out how to use “sublime” in a sentence and here it is. Feels awkward, like an ill-fitting pair of shoes. Big word, so much bigger than you. Shameful how you jammed that in there. Has to be some form of writer / hacker malpractice.)  [Read more...]

So, you think you’re on a great team? Forgettaboutit.

ants

Put a few thousand ants on to a pile of dirt and in a week they will have built a labyrinthine city inside it. If a flood hits the colony they can mesh their own bodies together into a raft the size of a dinner plate and ship themselves to safety. All done without blueprint or leader. How? Not because ants are smart. But because they know to follow simple rules. Three, to be exact. Read more here.

~ Emily Singer, The Remarkable Self Organization of Ants, Quanta Magazine

 


Image Credit

 

A day to lie on the grass with nothing to do but to slip the blades through my fingers

photography,woman,peace,relax,chill,zen

I have never wanted anything more than the wild creatures have, a broad waft of clean air, a day to lie on the grass at times, with nothing to do but to slip the blades through my fingers, and look as long as I pleased at the whole blue arch, and the screens of green and white between; leave for a month to float and float along the salt crests and among the foam, or roll with my naked skin over a clean long stretch of sunshiny sand; food that I liked, straight from the cool ground, and time to taste its sweetness, and time to rest after tasting; sleep when it came, and stillness, that the sleep might leave me when it would, not sooner … This is what I wanted,—this, and free contact with my fellows … not to love and lie, and be ashamed, but to love and say I love, and be glad of it; to feel the currents of ten thousand years of passion flooding me, body to body, as the wild things meet. I have asked no more.

~ Voltairine De Cleyre (1866-1912)

 


Photograph: Mariam Sitchinava.  Quote Source: Stalwart Reader. Voltairine De Cleyre bio.

Big Eye Trevally


Here’s my morning meditation. 20,000 to 40,000 big-eye trevally shoal as part of a mating ritual. MUSIC UP.


I, Elephant


Do you know what is like to be like an elephant? walk like an elephant? eat like an elephant?


why i feed the birds

bird-in-hand

once
i saw my grandmother hold out
her hand cupping a small offering
of seed to one of the wild sparrows
that frequented the bird bath she
filled with fresh water every day

she stood still
maybe stopped breathing
while the sparrow looked
at her, then the seed
then back as if he was
judging her character

he jumped into her hand
began to eat
she smiled 

a woman holding
a small god 

~ Richard Vargas, why i feed the birds

 


Image Credit. Poem Credit. Poem from Vargas’ book Guernica at Amazon here.

Too true, dear love, too true

birds-night-flock-free-happy-bliss
I lay in the firelight peacefully listening to pigeons on the roof.
To me pigeons say, “Too true, dear love, too true.”
I listened,
looked out on trees beyond both windows
and I was free and happy.

~ Florida Scott-Maxwell, The Measure of My Days



Skip Spring Break? Far better to escape to spring.

flowers, spring,yellow

George Ball is the chairman of the Burpee Seed Company and a former president of the American Horticultural Society. Here’s the intro to his article titled: “Spring Is Here. Why Take a Break?”

As Thursday is the first day of spring, it seems timely to ask, why does anyone go on spring vacation? It seems odd to fly to a tropical destination at the very moment that one of the great astonishments of life on Earth is taking place right at home. When friends tell me their spring-vacation plans, they mention the word “escape.” Really? You want to escape from spring? That’s like fleeing paradise. Far better to escape to spring.

You cannot access the season’s magic on your laptop or smartphone; you can’t watch it on TV or catch it on your radio or simply read about it. If you wish to apprehend spring in its ineffable splendor, you have to show up in person, with every one of your senses engaged, and personally participate in this annual miracle.

The media world in which we dwell offers us a shared spectacle of limitless images, constant chatter, endless noise, infinite information and mountains of data—at once a stimulant and a narcotic. What’s lacking in this man-made media galaxy is everything that matters: beauty, love, magic, mystery, grandeur, rapture, the miraculous. Not to forget poetry, delicacy, refinement, purity, splendor, intimacy, innocence, fulfillment, inspiration. And then there’s nuance, drama, poignancy, integrity, harmony.

Where will you find these? On your smartphone? Non. On your tropical vacation? Unlikely. Discover the magnitude, mystery and wonder of life at home, working in your garden, in springtime….

It gets better. Read the rest here: Spring Is Here. Why Take a Break?


Image Source: My Favourite Web Photos

Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration

bird-stretch-cute


Thank you Carol

Monday Morning Wake-up Call

birds-sing-call


Thank you Carol via yanen31

We must look wider than what hurts

yellow throat,bird,

“We begin so aware and grateful. The sun somehow hangs there in the sky. The little bird sings. The miracle of life just happens. Then we stub our toe, and in that moment of pain, the whole world is reduced to our poor little toe. Now, for a day or two, it is difficult to walk. With every step, we are reminded of our poor little toe.

Our vigilance becomes: Which defines our day – the pinch we feel in walking on a bruised toe, or the miracle still happening?

It is the giving over to smallness that opens us to misery. In truth, we begin taking nothing for granted, grateful that we have enough to eat, that we are well enough to eat. But somehow, through the living of our days, our focus narrows like a camera that shutters down, cropping out the horizon, and one day we’re miffed at a diner because the eggs are runny or the hash isn’t seasoned just the way we like.

When we narrow our focus, the problem seems everything. We forget when we were lonely, dreaming of a partner. We forget first beholding the beauty of another. We forget the comfort of first being seen and held and heard. When our view shuts down, we’re up in the night annoyed by the way our lover pulls the covers or leaves the dishes in the sink without soaking them first.

In actuality, misery is a moment of suffering allowed to become everything. So, when feeling miserable, we must look wider than what hurts. When feeling a splinter, we must, while trying to remove it, remember there is a body that is not splinter, and a spirit that is not splinter, and a world that is not splinter.”

~ Mark Nepo


Quote Source: Whiskeyriver. Image credit of Common Yellow Throat

A turn or two I’ll walk

photography-reflection-community-iceland-vogar


A turn or two I’ll walk
To still my beating mind.

— Shakespeare, The Tempest 


Photograph: Ingolfor via Sensual Starfish. Poem Source: Mythology of Blue

Ever changing beauty almost ignored

cumulus-road-montana_26432_600x450

“The enchantment of the sky, ever changing beauty almost ignored. Beyond words, without fixed form, not to be understood, or stated. It ravished away dullness, worry, even pain. It graces life when nothing else does. It is the first marvel of the day. Even when leaden grey it is still a friend, withdrawn for a time.”

~ Florida Scott-Maxwell, Measure of My Days


Image Credit: Natgeo

Last night I had the strangest dream

blue,face,portrait,art,photography

Last night I had the strangest dream. I was in a laboratory with Dr. Boas and he was talking to me and a group of other people about religion, insisting that life must have a meaning, that man couldn’t live without that. Then he made a mass of jelly-like stuff of the most beautiful blue I had ever seen — and he seemed to be asking us all what to do with it. I remember thinking it was very beautiful but wondering helplessly what it was for. People came and went making absurd suggestions. Somehow Dr. Boas tried to carry them out — but always the people went away angry, or disappointed — and finally after we’d been up all night they had all disappeared and there were just the two of us. He looked at me and said, appealingly “Touch it.” I took some of the astonishingly blue beauty in my hand, and felt with a great thrill that it was living matter. I said “Why it’s life — and that’s enough” — and he looked so pleased that I had found the answer — and said yes “It’s life and that is wonder enough.”

~ Margaret Mead, Anthropologist

 


Quote Source: Brain Pickings - Life Is Like Blue Jelly: Margaret Mead Discovers the Meaning of Existence in a Dream. Image: Unknown.

There are just some things you can’t feel and experience from the comfort of your warm home


Don’t fish? Don’t like fishing? Don’t care about fishing? No worries. This short film is so much bigger than that.

…It’s easy to stay inside when the weather isn’t pleasant.  Sometimes convincing yourself to get out is the hardest part. And once you’re out, it’d easy to find an excuse to quit. But there are just some things you can’t see from the inside of your house. Some things you can’t feel and experience from the comfort of your warm home. Things your high definition TV can’t give justice to.

The woods are silent. And the water abandoned by the crowds who surrender to the cold. You fully appreciate the stream you fish, when you see it cycle through all its seasons. The dense thick green canopy is gone. And the stream runs crisp clean and bright. The sun touches water it only reaches a few month a year.

The pain of frozen extremities fades fast when you hook that first fish. And all of the sudden, it all seems worth it. You forget about all of your problems. You forget about the ice in your guides. The frozen hands. The problems at home. Troubles at work. It all fades.

At the end of a cold day of fishing you end up much more thankful than when began. Thankful for the motivation to get up and get out.  Thankful for the lessons of the day.  Thankful for the fish you may have been blessed with. And thankful to return home to the things outside of fishing.”


Perhaps because the winter is so long

red-bird

Still, for whatever reason—
perhaps because the winter is so long
and the sky so black-blue,

or perhaps because the heart narrows
as often as it opens—
I am grateful

that red bird comes all winter
firing up the landscape
as nothing else can do.

Mary Oliver, closing lines to “Red Bird,” from Red Bird


Sources: Photograph – Thank you Carol for photo by Raja Daja. Poem - A Poet Reflects


Blue

gif, photography

gif


Image Credit (Penguins mourning death of their child)

Running. On S-Sunday.

photography,black and white,dog,trail,Connecticut,

Sunday
Sleep in
Sabbath
Sunrise
S(z)eke
Snow
Scenery*
Six Mile run. Sixty-two minutes.
Shower
Siesta
Snackin’. Salsa
Superbowl. Seattle!
Sleep


*Sylvia Plath: I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery— air, mountains, trees…I thought, “This is what it is to be happy.”


Related Posts: Running Series. Credit: Thank you Susan for photo of Zeke.

Sounds Like Nature


And this post was inspired by this “List of Nice Sounds

nice-sounds


Blue. But love you.

blue-painting-art-gif

How many times have I watched this loop?


Source: Coma Dolls via Your Eyes Blaze Out 

You can never have too much sky

blue-colors

You can never have too much sky.
You can fall asleep
and wake up drunk on sky,
and sky can keep you safe when you are sad.
Here there is too much sadness
and not enough sky.
Butterflies are too few
and so are flowers
and most things that are beautiful.
Still we take what we can get and make the best of it.

— Sandra Cisneros


Credits: Image – A Poet Reflects. Poem: Stalwart Reader from The House on Mango Street


T.G.I.F.: We choose to be happy!

happy,smile,cute


Source: Themetapicture.com

Touched

elephants-unite-gif

“Shirley and Jenny, two former circus elephants who hadn’t seen each other in 22 years were reunited at The Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee.  They recognized each other immediately, and their deep attachment is captured in this video of the reunion.  The PBS show Nature published an update on Shirley and Jenny’s lives.” While this story is a bit stale, I was moved by the photograph, the video and the PBS update.


Credits: Background: Predator Haven.  Image: Themetapicture.com

Really?

excel-art-tatsuo-horiuchi-3-painting

Tatsuo Horiuchi, a 73-year-old Japanese man, created this art.
I said: “Nice.”
Then I checked out some of his other creations.
Then I said: “Very Nice.”
Then I learned how he did it.
Then I said: “Really?”
Then I went back and looked more closely.
Then I scratched my head and said: “Amazing.”

See story here on MyModernMet.


Related Post: Look closely at this. (I mean really closely)


SMWI*: Ain’t no grave can hold my body down


SMWI* = Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration

Good Mourning


One minute of Nature inspirited meditation to start your day.

The Mourning Dove is one of the most abundant and widespread of all North American birds. It is also the leading game bird.  Its ability to sustain its population under such pressure stems from its prolific breeding: in warm areas, one pair may raise up to six broods a year. Its plaintive woo-OO-oo-oo-oo call gives the bird its name. The wings can make an unusual whistling sound upon take-off and landing. The bird is a strong flier, capable of speeds up to 88 km/h (55 mph).  Males and females are similar in appearance. The species is generally monogamous, with two squabs (young) per brood. Both parents incubate and care for the young. Mourning Doves eat almost exclusively seeds, but the young are fed crop milk by their parents.

This video was taken on the MPG Ranch which is located at the north end of the Sapphire Mountain Range in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana. For more information on the producer,  mpgranch.com


Source: Thank you korraled

As though it said to man, “Behold my work. And yours.”

victor-hugo

“Nature is pitiless; she never withdraws her flowers, her music, her fragrance and her sunlight, from before human cruelty or suffering. She overwhelms man by the contrast between divine beauty and social hideousness. She spares him nothing of her loveliness, neither wing or butterfly, nor song of bird; in the midst of murder, vengeance, barbarism, he must feel himself watched by holy things; he cannot escape the immense reproach of universal nature and the implacable serenity of the sky. The deformity of human laws is forced to exhibit itself naked amidst the dazzling rays of eternal beauty. Man breaks and destroys; man lays waste; man kills; but the summer remains summer; the lily remains the lily; and the star remains the star.

As though it said to man, ‘Behold my work. And yours.”

~ Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
 

Victor Marie Hugo was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist. He is considered one of the greatest and best known French writers. In France, Hugo’s literary fame comes first from his poetry but also rests upon his novels and his dramatic achievements. Outside France, his best-known works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862, and Notre-Dame de Paris, 1831 (known in English as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame). He was not only revered as a towering figure in literature, he was a statesman who shaped democracy in France writing and supporting the major political, social and artistic causes at the time.  Hugo’s wish was to be buried in a pauper’s coffin. While this wish was granted, he was nevertheless, on his death in 1885, voted a National Funeral and was buried as a national hero in the Panthéon. It is estimated that at least two million people followed the funeral procession.

Hugo left five sentences as his last will to be officially published :

« Je donne cinquante mille francs aux pauvres.
Je veux être enterré dans leur corbillard.
Je refuse l’oraison de toutes les Eglises.
Je demande une prière à toutes les âmes.
Je crois en Dieu. »
(“I leave 50 000 francs to the poor.
I want to be buried in their hearse.
I refuse [funeral] orations of all churches.
I beg a prayer to all souls.
I believe in God.”)

Credits: Quote – Thank you Soul Proprietor. Image Credit. Hugo bio: Wiki.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call: Breakfast!!!!

birds-feed-gif-cute-hungry


Image Credit: gifdrome

Learn the news

leaves-wind-gif-winter

I am losing precious days.
I am degenerating into a machine for making money.
I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men.
I must break away
and get out into the mountains
to learn the news.

~ John Muir (1838-1914)


Credits: Image – youreyesblazeout. Quote: Explore-Everywhere

It’s been a very long day for sleepy here and for me…


“A female Amethyst-throated Sunangel (Hummingbird) sleeps in Peru. It’s likely that this bird is in the early stages of arousal from deep torpor after disturbance. The gaping of the bill might be a way to breath deeply and bring in plenty of oxygen. When they are disturbed in torpor, they try to warm up as quickly as possible and that involves intense shivering. But initially, they are too cold for high-speed muscle action so it’s hard to see the shivering movements. The high pitched squeaking sound it is making is likely a cute side-effect of the gaping for oxygen. The noise is actually a lot more quiet than it seems, for whatever reason my camera picked it up and made it sound a lot louder. This experiment was performed with the guidance and supervision of some of the top experts in tropical ornithology. This bird was not harmed whatsoever, it was fed with sugar water throughout the experiment and was released safely. After the experiment was done, I watched the bird fly away myself, it was fine.”


She has a heartbeat. She dances with the winds and the grass.


Deep in the belly of these vermillion walls
Our minds open to adventure and experience.
We squint to the back of our lenses
And down to the tips of our fly lines
Crossing paths and coming together to tell a story.

This place is home to the blood of this land.
An emerald green water full of life, and full of hope.
She’s had a long journey.
Thousands of miles she’s travelled.
Veining her way through rock and crevice.
Rugged and raw to bless us with her fertile waters.
A place painted by Gods and carved by time.
A mighty river and a mighty canyon in the land of the Navajo.

Her currents meander over stone and sand
In a rhythm uniquely her own
Her color unlike anything else
Her glimmer, mesmerizing.

She has a heartbeat.
She dances with the winds and the grass.
She dances with life and we’ve come for what’s beneath it all.
A spirit.
A trout.
A memory.
In this box of trickery,
a shimmer of gold.
A subtle twist of thread and wire.
A hook.
A fly.
The trout we seek are strong and smart.
A worthy test of our skills.
Our tactics and presentations must be perfect.
The throw of our line must gently lay on the waters’ currents.
This is what we’ve come for, and what we live for.
Our search for the perfect riffle.
The rise of a hungry trout.
Friendships and memories.
This is an unforgettable place,
Where the earth and the heavens come together.

There is life, warmth and beauty everywhere up here.
360 degrees of pure magic.
Around every turn our lens capture the light and the dark of it all.
A Father and Son.
Old friends.
A lone fisherman.
The love for nature and art.
And blurring the lines in between.
We now see life, light and shadow
in a different way than we did before.
And we walk away
without leaving a trace of our modern trappings.
While this gold piece of the natural world
has left an indelible mark
on our all of spirits.

 


SMWI*: The Ascent


SMWI* = Saturday morning workout inspiration.

Murmuration


A flock of 10,000 starlings put on an impressive show near Gretna, Scotland this week.  Photographer Paul Bunyard films the poetry-in-motion spectacle of nature and puts it to music.


Pain is not exclusive to humans

birds-pain-cry

birds2-pain


Source: Youreyesblazeout

Sunday Morning: Soul Stirring


Don’t quit on this short film…

Darren Jew: “I’m fortunate enough to have spent the last 30 years of my life capturing and sharing the marine environments of the world. Of the things that I have photographed in my life, I enjoyed photographing the ocean the most. It’s my love. It’s my passion.  The creatures within it. The way the light falls within the sea. To be able to capture that and show people what can be achieved with photography under the water is one of the things I love to do.  I’ve been in the water with people that have seen whales for the first time, and their mask has been filling up with tears.  It’s been that powerful of an experience.  Every swim with a whale is different.  I’m still in awe of their power and their grace and their acceptance of me when I’m in the water and what they offer up in terms of photographic opportunities.  From a young age I’ve wanted to do exactly what I’m doing now.  Every time I get in the water, I remember how lucky I am…I am trying to show images of the moments that are most important to me. The ones that have touched me.  The ones that I feel are the most descriptive of the experience that I have when under the sea. Whether it’s 8 or 10 animals dancing in the beautiful sunrays. Or intimate moments with a calf interaction. Being able to share intimate moments with these animals is a real privilege…The thing about the Sea is that it is usually pretty silent.  So, to have the sea full of whale song is like nothing else.  There is no other experience that I could think of that is like it.  It vibrates through your body.  Literally, you can feel the sound.  It is probably one of the most poignant experiences you can have in the ocean. The best encounters with whales are the ones where they are interested, curious about the swimmers in the water. And they’ll come up – look you in the eye.  And that’s quite a profound moment.  It’s like no other feeling that I’ve had before…Even after 30 years of seeing these amazing creatures in the ocean, sometimes I still have to remember to take pictures because I’m too busy of being in awe of what’s in front of me.”


Monday Morning Wake-up Call: Breakfast Time!


 

Don’t run any more. Quiet.

rain,tin,roof,gif,photography

Don’t run any more.
Quiet.
How softly it rains
On the roofs of the city.
How perfect
All things are…

~ Czeslaw Milosz, After Paradise


Source: Poem- inwardboundpoetry.blogspot.co.uk: Image: strangenumb

SMWI*: There is something bigger than you get at home


SMWI* = Saturday Morning Work-out Inspiration

A Perfect Day


90 seconds to A Perfect Day


Monday Morning Wake-up Call: Still so sleepy…

funny-turtle-cute-sleeping-baby


Source: themetapicture

T.G.I.F.: Chillin’, minding my own business, and…

cool-gif-bird-fish-camera

What’s that coming?
Looks cool.
Looks neat.
OMG!


Kingfisher diving for fish from themetapicture.com

Sunday Morning: Awaken


From the beaches of Fort Myers and Sanibel on the west coast of Florida…

Good Sunday Morning


Sunday Morning: Jack


“Meet Jack English, a 93-year-old legend who lives in a cabin isolated deep in the Ventana Wilderness, located in the Santa Lucia Mountains along the Central Coast of California. While on a hunting trip he learned that an old homestead in the Ventana Wilderness was being put up for auction by the estate of a childless heiress. He put a bid on the property and won. On the land he built a small cabin using materials from the land and milling trees by hand. When his wife passed away, Jack effectively left “society” and moved to the cabin full time.”

More on Jack English @ The Santa Barbara Independent: Jack

Good Sunday Morning


SMWI*: It’s that time. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go.

run, exercise, weight loss,diet,move,dance,run,

*SMWI = Saturday Morning Work-out Inspiration with our baby ostriches.


Source: themetapicture. Thank you Susan.


80 seconds of awe. Reverential respect. Period.


If you missed my post on my first Harris Hawk experience, it’s worth a peak here. I had a similar awe inspiring experience watching this short 80 second clip. Danny Cooke, director and film maker from the UK, produced this short film of his nephew Sam “who has a fascination and colossal knowledge of Birds.  On his birthday, he had the chance to fly a Harris Hawk named Sol.”


Become the sky

tree fall colors chill


Become the sky
Take an axe to the prison wall
Escape
Walk out
like someone suddenly born into color.

~ Rumi


Sources: Image – Hungarian Soul. Poem – Make Believe Boutique. Full poem: Poetry-Chaikhana


Pachyderm & Her Pal. 9000 pounds of inspiration.


“Bubbles, 32, was adopted as a ivory orphan by the Myrtle Beach Safari in 1983. As Bubbles grew over the years, from 300 pounds to 9000 pounds, so too did her love of swimming.  In 2007, a contractor hired to build Bubbles a swimming pool, abandoned Bella as a puppy at The Preserve.  The river presented these two the opportunity to interact in a way that developed a deep and lasting friendship. Today, they are inseparable.

Bubbles’ family was killed in 1981 by ivory poachers.  She was one of the fortunate few that survived the slaughter.  Today, tens of thousands of elephants are still be illegally poached for their ivory.”


Thank you Janet.


 

Hump Day: Mark your territory. And keep goin’

cool-gif-ostrich-territory


Ostrich marking its territory.  Bird’s got style…


Source: themetapicture.com

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call: Up. Out of Bed. This way.

monday morning