On Thursday, June 6th 2024, between 5:52am and 5:55am, headed east on K-10 to work, this is what I was treated to.
I have previously mentioned that the beginning of June is the season of beautiful sunrises here in my part of the world. In my opinion anyway. Which is a well informed one as my drive time coincides with the rising of the sun. It's interesting how the older one gets, the more one is able to see patterns and cycles that recur through the years.
Listen, I know I just did a post about leaves. My own leaves. But, it is the fall and there are lots of trees in Lawrence that are not my own that are pretty nice. So this is a "not-mine" leaf post, because it's the season of leaves.
That little tiny tree with the lemon yellow leaves may not be as glorious as the red above, especially with the sun coming up through it's leaves, but against the blue sky with white clouds it's holding it's own out there in a field of oatmeal colored grasses.
Gray mornings, blowing winds, subdued colors. All of these things have me wanting to immerse myself in sweaters, flannel, socks, boots, corduroy. I want to wear the fall - rust, orange, tobacco, honey, amber, brick. I want to have warm coffee, smoky bourbon, bold dark cabernet. These are all the things that flitted through my mind as I walked at the wetlands this week.
I suppose if it were fall all the year long I would wish for it to change, but as we enter this season every single year, I welcome it with open arms. Everything about it.
On Sunday I turned around to look at the dam about 3 minutes into my walk and saw a pink sky that was reflected in the water, all overseen by the setting moon. I pinched myself.
Twenty minutes later in front of me was this. The sun rising up behind some trees, across the fields, burning off the mist, creating a golden arc. I pinched myself again.
Forty five minutes in to the walk over to my right were these clouds and layers of pinkish, purple, gray, green. Yes, another pinch was needed. To be sure I wasn't dreaming.
A 3 pinch morning walk is an amazing thing. But wait... when I got back to my car I had the back opened up and was doing some stretching followed by sitting and drinking water when 2 women walked by, about to commence their walk. They were holding small cups of coffee in one hand and croissant in the other, I complimented their good taste, recognizing the pastries came from 1900 Barker. In response they smiled hugely and said "this is how we walk". How great is that?
On this recent, early morning hike, the Baker wetlands were cocooned in a light mist, making it the perfect place for a walk that showed off the artistry of all the overnight, spinning spiders. It was so quiet, except for a few honking geese, and the occasional call of western meadowlark.
On mornings like this I am knocked over the head with my extreme good fortune at being right here, right now.
As the sun rose, the sunflowers were a spectacular side show to the main attraction that were the webs.
Get a look at the size of that bumble bee.
Other sites included the white flash of a deer's tail as he sprung out in front of me and crossed the path and snails carrying their shells to who knows where.
In the hours before we got a little bit of rain the other day, the clouds gathered and moved across the sky in a most pleasing manner. What I really need in my backyard is a "cloud observation" stand - which would consist of a soft mattress, covered with a colorful cloth, maybe a few pillows, that could be rolled out on wheels, locked into place, and upon which I would lie myself down and look up at the sky in total comfort.
Doesn't that sound like something every home should have? It would also be covered with a cone of complete privacy so no one could watch you while you watched the clouds.
Whenever I look out and see interesting clouds, I dart out of doors camera in hand, thinking I will capture the most spectacular cloud picture ever. It's important to try.
Clouds are so pretty, they give shade which cools, at night they can help the earth retain heat, and may carry rain or snow for moisture. Clouds make sunrises and sunsets beautiful.
Pretty remarkable, and that's without all the scientific information about what they do.
In my next life I might go to school and specialize in the study of clouds. Just in case my gig as a barista in a bookstore with cats doesn't pan out for some reason.
A mish-mash of good things from the last weeks. Walks, zinnias, the white truffle garlic bread with house made ricotta appetizer, making Barb and Nancy pose at the little cafe table, pickling peppers and making simple syrup, watching a robin who was delighted that I turned on the sprinkler, and eating cake.
One Red Robin, hopping on branches, drinking from cracks in the sidewalk, digging up worms.
More good things than one should be allowed in a short span of time. I am not reporting it though. Except to you.
While I dislike greatly the "traveling" part of travel, as in the hassles of getting to the airport, the possibility of delays, missed flights, cancellations, and re-booking... I do like very much the actual "flying" part of travel. I like a window seat and also happen to be one of those geeks who likes to take photos of the clouds out of that usually dirty, little porthole, that doubles as a window.
I like rising into the clouds, getting above the clouds, and especially being sandwiched between layers of clouds.
Sometimes you can catch a sunrise or a sunset which can be glorious, but I am equally happy with the puffy whiteness of clouds against the background of the earth or sky.
If it's possible where you live, try and find yourself a whole row of lilac bushes you can walk by on a warm, sunny, afternoon. When lots of blooms are open, pumping out their fragrance, for all the world to enjoy.
If your row of bushes happens to be a short row, let me suggest you turn around and walk back and forth several times. To get your lungs the proper dose necessary to sustain you.
After a morning walk this week, I drove though old west Lawrence. Looking for blooming trees. I was not disappointed. The magnolias have all gotten the message - "it's time to wake up".
In my mind, the whole city is a garden, and I feel free to visit my favorite spots as desired. Those that are readily accessible anyway. It is not my habit to sneak over fences, or wander into backyards. At least not at this time.
I am of the mind that all gardeners, everywhere, appreciate anyone who appreciates their expertise.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Here is a sunrise at the "church of the glassy river" from this week.
So technically, it's just minutes before sunrise, when the colors are most spectacular. I look to the right, look to the left, look across the river. All views superlative.
Then before you know it, here it is, right there, a glowing ball of orange at it's finest. I love the pink light reflecting off everything it shines on.
Hello moon. Hello path made gold by the sun.
The most splendid of ways to start a day.
This week I have determined that even if it is cold, and despite a few hitches in my getalong, I will make a concerted effort to get out and see some sunrises! This was at the Baker Wetlands, an unfolding spectacle of color.
I did get out and ramble just a bit, to see the view from a few different perspectives.
I love to turn around and see the moon setting as the sun is rising.
When I had as much as I could take of the 29 degree temperatures, I went back to my car, turned on the seat warmer, and let it all soak in for just a bit longer.
Post #4 of "things I didn't get to show you while Typepad was down", because the leaves people, the leaves!
I read something somewhere in which someone said that this was not going to be a good year for fall colors. Perfect example of how unnamed "someone's" should never be trusted.
An early morning walk on a weekday, with no expectations, yielded all of this.
I saw this quote on line today from Henry David Thoreau which seems made for this experience. "You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment." Right on HDT.
It's Tulip Time at Ted Ensley Gardens in Topeka. If you live in the area, you may want to go. But make it quick before the wind and the rain put an end to the celebration that this day was.
The thing is there are big trees, little trees, flowering trees, and interesting structures in addition to the tulips.
I already mentioned the lake didn't I?
The massed plantings are splendid. Up close and from a distance. The air is also perfumed with the smell from flowering shrubs.
This year was the best display we have caught. Our timing was perfect.
An essential element to the visit is bringing your lunch to sit and eat slowly as you take it all in. There are many tables and benches. Alternately, you can do what we did and get yourself a sandwich from Schlotsky's on SW 29th street. I like the original. Chris goes for the ham and cheese. Cold water, iced tea, a few chips.
That's the recipe for a perfect day. A nap after you get home as an add-on to the itinerary is strongly suggested.
at last, this morning, at dawn, the tide was low enough for a walk to the east, towards Hammond meadow.
these are the things I saw there. magnificent, glorious, splendid, you choose the superlative that suits you. none are adequate, but you get the idea.
Before I tuck Benonville away in the memory banks, let me show you just a few more things. Like a neighborhood walk down a steep hill that took me closer to the lake.
How about one of the cool murals spotted in Bentonville. I could have done a whole post on just these, if I had taken more photos. Which I did not. Next time.
We visited a really cool bookstore with old books that we loved exclaiming over. Nice bookshelves too.
You know I am a sucker for a signs on the street and love to make my companions pose with them.
Pea Ridge is a National Military Park in NW Arkansas. If you are a history fan, you might find a visit interesting and educational. I am a sucker for a good video at the beginning of a history lesson that gives me the background and details of things. This place had one.
A few gratuitous shots of spring blooms and I will be done.
But the views from the deck, especially in the morning, remain the highlight of the trip. Splendid is not a good enough word to describe the experience, but it's the best I can do.
the view from the deck of the eagles nest on Whitney mountain is splendid
in full on sun or at first light
after the 4:17 am tornado warning and 45 minutes in the lowest level of the house
when the lake re-emerged from the thick gray mist
and this morning after the pinks and reds gave way and ceded the stage to the clouds
with each glance there is something equally wonderful to appreciate
ps the omission of all punctuation is intentional and could become the new normal
Today, in honor of Kansas Day, a few photos of our flowers, skies, sunsets, trees, paths, trails, and anything else I saw fit to stick here tonight. I will spare you Chris and I singing a rousing rendition of our state song.
At Tall Tales Headquarters we are welcoming the weekend with a sunset, clouds, and poetry.
Today, on "poetry is not a luxury", which I follow on instagram, there was this. I shared it with my sisters, but feel you will enjoy it as well.
It seems that when I love a poem, it's because something in me, recognizes in the words, a truth about myself. Even when it's something that seems as simple as bedtime. It is good to know I am in such excellent company. But seriously... "domestic as a plate" that is a line that deserves high praise.
I bow to you Edna St. Vincent Millay, from my bed, where I lie reading, in pajamas, at 8:30 pm, feeling quite decadent.
The color on a Bald Cypress in November, is likely not what comes to mind when you think about fall foliage.
But maybe it should be.
I learned this week it's a specimen that should not be overlooked.
I snapped these pictures while I was pulled over to take photos of a Ginko Biloba, a specimen that is certainly more showy from afar.
But it was the cypress photo that made me say "oh my". It's funny how sometimes the photo that you think will be good isn't anything special, and the one you just take as an afterthought is IT.
The fall colors continue to amaze and delight. I endeavor to take it all in. Right now.
On Monday, the overcast skies, with spurts of rain, and cooler temps did not for one second diminish my enjoyment of the arrival of fall colors to Lawrence Kansas. They came in with a bang over the last 7 days. Favorite spots were cruised by, new spots discovered.
It's supposed to warm up a bit again this weekend, which means perfect fall walks will be taken, leaves collected and pressed into journals. My love of fall aromas inside the house (pumpkin bread baking, a pot of chili on the stove) is closely matched by the wonderful smells of decomposing leaves on a trail outside. The occasional twirling leaf that spins as it makes its descent to the ground has such a magical quality to it, sort of like seeing a shooting star in the night sky. Good stuff. Not to be missed.
Tonight it's pictures snapped here and there that are part of everyday life. Regular moments that said "hey take a picture of me". The moon setting out the back door in the very early morning. Cherry tomatoes on the counter. Blooming succulents. Mist rising from the pond on a 48 degree morning. Freshly washed dishes. The way this plant, whose name escapes me at this exact moment, has done so well all summer and seems to be getting pinker as the temperatures cool.
Pretty soon (as in I should be doing it right now), the fall gardening tasks will have to be started. Selecting succulents to winter-over, dumping out the pots of annuals, cleaning the pots before it gets cold, doing some weeding…. I always appreciate it in the spring when I have done a reasonably good job in the fall. That's the thing - telling my current un-motivated self, come April I will be paid back in dividends for the energy invested now. I like trying to trick myself like that. Sometimes it even works.
If you are not a fan of magnolia's, stop right here and come back tomorrow. Because all there is tonight are images of a grouping of star magnolia trees between 8th and 9th on Tennessee street in Lawrence Kansas. After discovering them about 5 or 6 years ago, I try to photograph them every year in bloom. Some years the sky is brilliant blue, some years it is overcast, like this year.
But always they are beautiful, no matter the weather conditions. Last year when they bloomed I was just beginning my long stretch of time on the COVID team. What to say about this year? The cycle of life continues. I have been in touch several times recently with the wonderful mother of a patient who died of COVID last June. She tells me her family has been "broken" by his death. I want to wrap her in my arms and bring her to sit under the magnolia trees with me, and have her tell me stories about her son, and bring him to life again with the telling.
Happy Friday all. As I sit down to write tonight, it's worth noting that this is the 3,000 post I have sent out into the world since the inception of Tall Tales from Kansas, almost 10 years ago. If you would have asked me at the time if I thought I had 3,000 posts in me, I think I would have said "maybe not?"
Through all the seasons and the beauty of each, the adventures, travels, culinary delights, books to discuss, my family stories, what I see at work, things that bring me joy or make me sad, I don't tend to think about the whole of it. When I walk upstairs after a day of work to sit at the computer and tap out what is on my mind, it is not generally planned out in advance. Sometimes, I start to write something and before I know it, things have moved in a much different direction than they were headed at the outset.
It's kind of a funny thing, this blog. There is no specific purpose to it, other than to give me a chance to share my views on life. To tell stories, share the quirky/courageous/funny/complex individuals whose lives touch me daily at work, rhapsodize over my love of food/books/nature/art and craft, and anything else that pops into my unpredictable brain.
It has been a ride. I have met some very special people because of this blog. Individuals from across the globe whose paths would likely not have crossed with mine, if not for the world of the internet. For the friendships, the opportunities, the comments left that broaden perspectives, for all of this I am grateful. Thanks for checking in from time to time.
I wish you each a wonderful weekend. I am planning on doing as little as I can get away with, while sneaking in as much relaxation as possible. My formula for bliss.
I can not recall the last time I was grateful for temps in the 20's with sunshine. Interesting what you are happy about when you have endured worse. Today before shoveling the driveway, photos were taken.
Self portraits, snow studies, snow on the Chinese elm with that amazing bark.
Plants that may or may not make it through another winter, things neighbors planted that have crossed boundaries and you are now charged with the care of.
And finally, the most delicate, bird tracks in snow. My favorite.
I love it when I am downloading photos from the camera and come across an unexpected treat from Chris. I couldn't decide if I liked the long shot or the close up best. So I am posting both. You can decide.
I have however let him know that I am giving him a salary increase for going above and beyond the call of duty in his role as overall assistant, part time researcher, and excellent image capturer. I am also nominating him for employee of the year at Tall Tales Headquarters.
I haven't made it out to either of the larger fields of sunflowers located near Lawrence this year, but that in no way means I have missed out. On everyday excursions I have spotted remarkable specimens in neighborhoods, on the table, in the morning light - from the front and back, newly opened and almost spent.
Later in the day, as part of a bouquet, or standing tall along the bank of a river.
Each and every one a masterpiece. No charge for admission, look as long as you like, no need to ask permission to photograph.
Below are the five random regular things I most want to share with you this week. They are not rank ordered. I sprinkled them from the camera and this is how they fell out.
The incredibly fragrant rose I liberated from a bush at the park, where I sat with my "orange blossom" latte, after a walk.
My new favorite "mask up" sign, seen downtown, on the door of the Dusty Bookshelf, on Massachusetts street.
The red-headed woodpecker, spied overhead on a walk, when I just happened to have the Nikon with me. I have not previously seen a woodpecker whose ENTIRE head was red.
This latest vase of zinnias which are still producing like gangbusters. I have already told you to plant some of these next summer right?
The curve of this railroad track. Can you look at it and not imagine being onboard, looking out the window, while you sit in a private car. On a journey to a place you have been longing to visit, notebook open ready to write about what you will see and do, because you don't have to bother with driving. Knitting beside you if your hands want to do something.
I think before I die I must take a long train ride west. To see what I can see.
The grasses of Rock Chalk park as witnessed by one lone walker at 7:30 am on a windy Sunday morning in September, 2020.
With one long shot thrown in for good measure.
“Within national parks is room - glorious room - room in which to find ourselves, in which to think and hope, to dream and plan, to rest and resolve.”
Enos Mills
The quote above is from the inside of the new Rocky Mountain National Park hiking book we found yesterday. Something to guide our “dreaming and planning” since it will not be another 23 years before we return.
Monday morning on my way to work, the sky opened up in a thrilling, spectacular, way. Reminding me that from about the middle of May to early June is the best "season" for sunrises here in Kansas. When your commute encompasses the time frame between 5:50 and 6:15am that is.
Technically it's right before the sun rises, when it is peaking up over the edge of the horizon, getting ready to round the curve and start the day. That's when it's my very, very, very, favorite. Note to self: when you retire, plan very early morning adventures with your pals who live to the east of you so you can still witness this amazingness.
Just because I wanted to try. "Pink Moon" as seen from Tall Tales Headquarters. April 7, 2020 at 8:21pm.
It's always good to try.
Please don’t think I’m not really glad the snow is done for awhile, that the driveways and sidewalks have all been shoveled, and that it is supposed to warm up a bit before Christmas Day. I am totally down with all three of those things. Almost as much as these 3 things that also came as a byproduct of the snow.
And that concludes my Wednesday night rhapsodizing. Which is sometimes necessary when your foot hurts after a hard day at work. Wine and a fire are also helpful. As is a bowl of stew with warm bread and butter on the side. See how I made myself feel all better?
We have had some marvelous pink and blue sunset skies here lately. Chris took these photos the other night, since I am generally driving home when these things are happening. He is on retainer for just these purposes.
As a bonus (at no extra charge) he also went downtown this week and picked up my finished needlepoint. I am pleased with how it turned out. The woman at Framewoods did an excellent job stretching it just a bit more to get it squared up.
Now I have to figure out what piece I will start on next. I don't know why I have to be sewing, knitting, and stitching/needlepointing something all the time, it's just how I roll.
Before I begin the trips up and down the basement steps, taking down the orange, bringing up the red and green, there had to be this.
One last compilation of the best of fall, in all it's splendor.
On this Thanksgiving day, I am most grateful to the folks who live at this house,
on 9th street in Lawrence Kansas,
who have this amazing work of art in their front yard,
and that it is open to the public, free of charge,
and that they didn't come out and tell me to "get lost" as I circled it to capture all angles in the early morning light.
For this, and all the ordinary beauty in the world, I am most grateful, today and everyday.
This is the perfect collection of imperfectly beautiful leaves I picked up on our walk when I came home from work on Sunday.
Then I brought them inside for pressing between the pages in a tapas recipe book. Because it is thick, heavy, and the first one I put my hand on. I may put them in my everyday journal. Or not.
These are what the front porch mums look like. Oh the fleeting beauty of fall. I told Chris I was just going to move out on the front porch to spend as much time as possible with it.
Then he reminded me there was not a bed out there, and it might get cold, and he is making ham and beans and cornbread for dinner. At which point I smartened up, took the pictures, and came inside to set the table. And get out the honey for the cornbread.
On a recent early morning stroll, I walked by this pond, and took a picture.
Three things that I did not take pictures of were:
1. A giant spider in the middle of a lacy cobweb that was covered in morning mist
2. The woman walking three dogs with wagging tails, who waved at me merrily, as she continued to talk to the pups who appeared to be hanging on her every word
3. The small grove of tall cottonwood trees whose leaves were being rustled (vigorously) by the morning breeze
If you close your eyes, I am certain you can see it all in your minds eye, as clearly as if I had photographed them.
Tomorrow morning we leave, but tonight there is this.
What follows are my favorite quirky pictures from California. Opinions, loves, fashion, art. All statements. About something.
You add the commentary. Or not.
Sometimes, in the course of a day, when doing something as commonplace as getting out clean kitchen towels, while unloading a flower jar from the dishwasher, and setting it down so the bottom dries, in close proximity to this coffee cup, my reverie is interrupted by serendipity.
The end.
On this magical weekend
when because of a lucky convergence of schedules
we have been granted 2 Saturdays and 2 Sundays
we have also been coated in a thick, fluffy, layer of soft white
that makes everything extra quiet and calm
and has given the coneflowers and yard art fluffy hats.
We are staying tucked in. Reading books. Holding warm mugs of coffee between our hands. Lighting candles. Making Sunday pot roast.
Pretending we have been cut off from the rest of civilization.
Fueled by the "best of nine" on Instagram, I am looking through photos and moving them to and fro. First one box, then the next. Until I find an arrangement that pleases me. Making myself happy. Just playing. Boy have I seen some pretty things this year. At home and abroad. Near and far.
Flowers and sky. And always pumpkins. Gosh but the world is a pretty place.
Since this is my "Goodbye 2018" post, I am taking the liberty of using the sunset from 12/30 instead of the sunset that did not happen tonight because it was cloudy. Sometimes things peak at the wrong time. No reason not to make a correction (of sorts) when it's possible. And this was such a hum-dinger.
Goodbye 2018. Thanks for all you have given me. The good, the hard, the beautiful, the sad, the funny, the bittersweet, the walks, the colors, the friendships, and all the experiences in between all that.
Labor Day weekend is typically the time to see sunflower fields in full splendor here in Kansas. There was some worry that this year would be a bust because it's been so dry, but a few good downpours in the last month seemed to have set things right.
Chris and I made our way out to one of the fields closest to us recently to check things out.
There is something about seeing all these specimens en masse that makes you smile.
Seriously, you can't help yourself.
As you might suspect, the opportunities for photos are endless.
We of course availed ourselves of the opportunity.
I like that they supplied a saw for the "cut your own corn for fall yard decoration" option that you could participate in.
This field had some very tall specimens growing, as well as a shorter variety with multiple flowers on each plant. There were also some medium tall sunflowers with big giant heads.
I love them all. Even if I can't tell you their real names.
P.S. If you live close to Lawrence, this field is at 923 E. 1450 Road, Lawrence. The field you hear about more often in the area is Grinter's Sunflower Farm - it is located at 24154 Stillwell Road, Lawrence. We haven't been there this year so can't speak to what is happening there.
The other night someone was sending me cloud signals.
I don't know who it was.
Or what they were trying to say for sure.
But I think it was something about "day is done".
And I liked it.
Because sometimes you love a picture so much, you don't want to run the risk of messing it up with any words.
Barista, small bookshop owner, lounge singer, and photographer are all second career choices that I consider every now and again. Because it's never too late to re-imagine yourself in a new career. Right?
In fact, I like to fantasize about each of these "paths not chosen that could still be considered" in detail. To the point that I know what conversation starters I would use when I take your order for a small cappuccino with an extra shot. I have book recommendations a mile long depending on your interests. And finally, songs to be performed in my first set at the dive bar, have been selected and are practiced regularly.
With this same sense of dedication, I pretended this week to be on assignment for Midwest travel magazine, documenting the amazing beauty of Cercis canadensis.
Also known as the eastern redbud.
It is the state tree of Oklahoma. In case you were wondering, Kansas lost the arm wrestling contest when state tree's were being decided and that's how it got stuck with the cottonwood.
This tree elevates the appearance of any house or alley, merely by it's presence.
You won't notice them much on most days, but in the early Spring, they will knock your socks off.
Or, take your breath away.
Either way, you will stop in your tracks.
I did not get paid for this assignment, but it sure was fun. I hope you have something planned for your upcoming weekend that will get you out amongst the trees. Eastern redbuds or whatever variety happens to be blooming in your part of the world.
