Welcome. In honor of the ghost of Father's Day past, observe the proud parents and the gangly offspring goslings (say that fast three times). The families have only been roadside every several days. This appearance was early this morning as I headed to work. I think my photography development is paralleling my development as an angler. First I just wanted to catch a fish. Then I wanted to catch lots of fish. Then I wanted to catch the biggest fish. Then I just wanted to catch fish with a fly rod. I'm still at the "I just want to get a photo" stage. I hope soon to have made it to the I want a good photo stage. We'll see. One of Tony Hoagland's Twenty Little Poems That Could Save America is Mary Oliver's Wild Geese. That seems as if it would go particularly well with today's photo. If you want to hear it read, as it was about this time of year on Writer's Almanac, follow the poem's title link.
Wild GeeseYou do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Does the world call to you? Are you sure? Are you listening? Often, I've found that the world is talking to me and I'm too busy talking to myself to hear it. Try sitting quietly, by yourself, every once in awhile. Thanks for listening. Come again when you can. Rants. raves and reflections served daily.