Those who have ears, let them hear...

23mm
160bpm
:)

4 in one blow (or 4 out of 5 isn't bad)

It's interesting the sorts of things that define your home town, even long after you've left. There are landmarks and relics that hold little or no real value, and in fact may even harbor danger. In spite of their lack of value, they still serve as an anchor to our memories; an icon that colors all our recollections of a place.



The ancient oil refineries in Greybull are all but forgotten. They left their signature smokestacks on the skyline of the town, and they will remain indelibly in my memory.



By some fortunate timing, I was able to see this live



Here's a regional news story on it.

If you'd prefer the photo sequence:


You can imagine the surprise of the pigeons resting (nesting?) on the top of the closest smokestack. (more than the 5 you can see in the photos) -- they wasted no time flying away, but ended up circling and landing on the last stack standing... :-O

happy day!

rootie

Car trouble -- problem with my rearview mirror

Rational thought is a wonderful thing. It helps us know when to stop beating ourselves silly. Hard to see in the video, but his feathers are showing the wear. :(

The bird isn't always that quick to attack my mirror but he has been pretty active at the mirror over the last several weeks, so I figured it would be fruitful to turn on the video camera before pulling into the driveway.

Last couple of days he has given it a break -- maybe it is because I tried to catch him and almost succeeded?

rootie

Happy Mother's Day!

On this day set aside to honor those who brought us into the world, wiped our butt countless times, and gave us more love, attention, and mind share than perhaps we may have deserved, let me ramble briefly on my own mom.

I grew up in a rural farm area. Among mom's roles, she was a freelance writer. I remember taking swimming lessons in town during the summer, and mom would take her portable typewriter with her to the pool so she could work on a magazine article or one of her stories. Many times, she would pack picnic lunches for us, and drive us to the fields on the other side of town. She would then drive tractor, plowing or pulling the roller harrow while my brother and I played at the ends of the field, chasing bugs, climbing trees, digging in the dirt and mud, or riding our bicycles.

We weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination. I was in high school before I had a pair of pants that wasn't hand-me-down or second-hand, and I was in college before anyone else cut my hair. Mom could stretch a buck farther than you could imagine. I never felt like we were poor or deprived -- that's just the way things were.

Others have written recently about their free-wheeling childhood. When I was in 4th grade, we moved to the other side of town to consolidate our farmland into one unit. My parents gave my brother and I each a wristwatch and made sure we knew how to tell time. The rules were pretty simple: "lunch is at noon, dinner is at 6, for every 5 minutes you are late, you are grounded a day". There were obvious exceptions for calling ahead, or arrangements to be elsewhere.

Motherhood is a job that never ends. I called her today to wish her well. While on the phone, I coughed, and she immediately inquired as to my health. Shortly thereafter she was providing her opinion on which laundry detergent I shouldn't be using.

Moms -- truly amazing people...

illegal vegetables

It would seem that threats to free commerce may come from unlikely sources... even the restaurant where you may be dining. Chef Gordon Ramsay:

"There should be stringent laws, licensing laws, to make sure produce is only
used in season and season only,"

Vain chefs aside, "out-of-season" produce is also under scrutiny in commercial circles due to "carbon footprint".

When you think about it, bananas are a commercial boon -- they provide money in poorer parts of the world for farmers, money for transportation industry, money in local economies for grocery stores, and most of all, they go so well with my oatmeal on a cold winter morning.

rootie