In Henning Mankell’s novels about Swedish policeman Kurt Wallander, Wallander’s father is a painter who paints the same landscape every day. They think the father is suffering from dementia, but I wonder if there isn’t some clarity there, too. I seem to be stuck on Cabezon myself. Sharing photographs of the trusty old volcanic plug …
Starting to get the picture.
Politics took my words today. If you follow Twitter, you can see that I’m a little bit lathered about that smirking wise guy from New York. All I’ve got left are pocket-cam pictures from the last couple of nights. Shot from the hip, as always, but unlike the New York Times and Bernalillo County …
Old Cabezon suggests a new canvas every night. I wish it also would reveal a plot or two.
Head kept getting lost in the clouds.
Cabezon sunset tonight reminded me of the well-known Navajo prayer. “In beauty may I walk All day long may I walk Through the returning seasons may I walk Beautifully will I possess again Beautifully birds, Beautifully joyful birds On the trail marked with pollen may I walk With grasshoppers about my feet may I …
I shoot it just about every night, now that I am fooling around with a camera. It’s the view west from dreamranch. When I’m grouchy, I call it old butt head. Otherwise, it’s just Cabezon. But, as stolid as it is, it’s always got something new for me. Tonight, for instance, you will notice its …
I hope for rain as muddy wisps of another dusty sunset drift over Cabezon’s long-running shrug.
For a moment, I wondered if the neighbor’s barn was on fire. Then — though thick-headed with early-season allergies — I realized maybe something can be said for wind-driven dust, at least in the evening, after a couple of belts of Flonase. And, if you don’t believe me about allergies, here’s a pollen-loaded juniper at …
dream ranch 