Notes:
- Photo by award winning photographer Terri Gold from a portfolio titled Nomads in Niger (via My Modern Met)
- Background on Caleb/Wednesday/Hump Day Posts and Geico’s original commercial: Let’s Hit it Again
Tag: Photography
Everywhere the cliffrose is blooming, the flowers shivering in the wind
“Mallow blooms in the Atacama region of Chile, 466 miles north of Santiago de Chile. Every five to seven years, the arid Atacama desert becomes a flower carpet. The amount of rain that came down in recent months has led to the most spectacular blossoming of the past 18 years.” (Maria Ruiz, European Press Photo Agency, October 25, 2015)
Post inspiration – “Everywhere the cliffrose is blooming, the yellow flowers shivering in the wind” by Edward Abbey in Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness.
Amateurs. Seeking mastery? Here’s our Truth.
TRUTH. In a second.
He’s the spark for this share. Greg Cowles, editor of the NY Times Book Review, reviews Mary Karr’s new book The Art of Memoir. One sentence in his review (also titled The Art of Memoir) summarizes his thoughts on the book:
It is not, alas, a very good book. Repetitive, unorganized, unsure of its audience or tone, it can’t decide whether it wants to be a how-to guide or a work of critical analysis.
Here’s my review of the book review in fewer words: BAH!
Now on to the Truth, our Truth, Truth for anyone seeking mastery of anything – with the most illuminating excerpt from Karr’s new book.
Continue reading “Amateurs. Seeking mastery? Here’s our Truth.”
Monday Morning Wake-Up Call
Running. With Rain.
56° F. Rain spitting on the windshield.
The convoy rolls out to Mianus River for a trail run.
Zeke sighs as he curls in the backseat. Anya settles in the trunk.
The Wolfpack is draggin’.
Their leader rides the slow lane on I-95 thinking about the benefits of a long walk on his joints.
99 days. 3 months + since your last trail run. What a lazy a**.
Rain stops. Clouds hang low.
We pass through the gate.
The Park is empty but for a fisherman making his way upstream.
Both dogs pull on the leashes. A sharp tug gets them to heal.
Wait! I’m not ready for this yet.
I look up.
A gold leaf canopy.
I look down.
A solid gold leaf carpet.
Someone is laying tracks.
Continue reading “Running. With Rain.”