North and South

There's an invisible line drawn somewhere north of Mount Pleasant, moving sometimes just north of Fairview, and that's the line between sufficient water and weather and not ever enough.
There's that line right there, in one of its variations, as seen from the bench just below Hell Hole Ridge.
See what I mean?

Out with Diedre.

Late Valentine's day activity, this year.
We headed out on the road for a loop down Salina way and back up toward Scipio and back home via Salt Creek.
She's a fascinating person to talk with and to discuss possibilities with, and her company cannot be substituted for. I appreciate her and am deeply in debt. Such is life.

The Indicator

 I watch this little bigtooth sage every winter for signs of spring. It usually starts to show life in the leaves between the middle of February and the first week of March.
It's a bit early, but the sage is showing good evidence of spring right now. Even though we're not at all ready for spring with the amount of snow we've had this winter, it's still exciting.

Bionicles and Sunsets

Every so often, the kids drag out some box from under their beds and proceed to amaze Ianto with the magical toys and tools available in those magical spaces.
The Bionicles are one of those boxes of Amazing Things, and it's always fun to see the kids show the youngest one about their own faded fascinations...

Not a lot of snow, but what falls is enjoyed.

And, after that, we adjourn to the kitchen to watch a tiny screen and the antics of the day as recorded by the various participants!

January, this year, in Sanpete

This world, as perceived by we humans, is a mercurial and persnickety thing. We look with notions and expectations lurking behind the senses, and very often, what we see or feel isn't what we had expected or hoped for.
But sometimes things are even better than expected. That's when it's good to have a clear mind and unbridled hope.

Thin, Yellow Line- Another Poemy Thang

Thin, Yellow Line

It’s a shift worth mentioning, when the mind sees the end

of a line of code and it makes as much sense as the

process it took to get there,

an alarm ought to sound somewhere-

just anywhere, anywhere

so that songwriters can begin a suitable eulogy

for all bluebirds lost in flight and

spiders pinned wriggling to the wall,

every hopeful decision come to and sent packing like a vagrant

camped by a church.

In a sign worth noticing, my threat has constricted

and my voice subsumed to the process of keening for the

bruises and death it took to get here,

the alarm still blaring like a car alarm in a mail parking lot

so that marketers, whose ignorance is complete, have a campaign

keeping broadcasts lit and telephones ringing and pinging

all mindful creatures pinned and wriggling on the wall

so that most every prudent decision is parsed for inclusion in a blueprint

and used by exclusive accountants and schoolhouse administrator.

I know you’ve a party to attend, my dear,

and the evening is drawing to an inevitable conclusion we’ve seen

for longer than the earth’s been deep in grief from the game-

revel in this hot, thin soup

because we have a date to keep,

a pleasure and a trenchant vision retinal and long-abandoned

by real estate agents, politicians, administrators, and profiteers-

blessed are the meek and the peacemakers, once again.