I decided to take a trip up to the Stone Church in Cragsmoor and watch the sunrise.
I felt I needed some time alone but my Canon 50D thought differently.
As I was getting ready to leave it wrapped itself around my leg and said “where you going big boi?” One looked at that body and I was just as gripped as the grip it was sporting.
Of course I caved and away we went up route NY 52 about 7 miles up the mountain.
The deers on the side of the road looked at each other like wtf? Where is he going before 5 am.
I have lived in Ellenville for six years and that was on my list. I have some from the other side by New Paltz also.
Hope is the thing with Feathers
poem by: Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune with out the words,
And never stops at all.
And the sweetest in the gale is heard:
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
© Emily Dickinson
For taking the time to view my images.
This an experiment with Bokeh
I live alone and words are my friends and they are my currency the only things I have of value, to some.
This from am email this morn, related to blog design of all things.
A photographer without a muse is like a mirror without a reflection. With light as a medium they see and complete each other.
A teacher without a student is akin to fountain without water…The beauty of the fountain is brought forth by the dispersion of the water/knowledge.
I am nursing a broken heart so words are my Art Therapy along with my Lil Rebel XT.
Heavy thunderous heartbeats…sans echos in a vacuous heat…my earthen locks keeping time with every beat…brought to my Lord feat…like Mary and Martha that is where I belong…and where I will stay…the mountains and valleys that are created with each melancholic beat…remind that I need to breath…love to me is the air that we breath…necessary for our very survival but not in the sense that others have inhale what we have just taken and let in slow tempo or a fractious staccato…but since I have fallen and I know that I have move and am going somewhere…if even though crestfallen…I am my first true love and the cornerstone to my life as my God is the cornerstone to my faith…that whispered goodbye to arrogance as she picked me up and embraced me even though I shunned her…she carried me and no can one put us asunder.
Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are getting weak?
Why do banks charge a fee on “insufficient funds” when they know there is not enough?
Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?
Why doesn’t glue stick to the bottle?
Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection?
Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard?
Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him?
Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
Whose idea was it to put an “S” in the word “lisp”?
If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?
Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white?
Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?
Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator with hopes that something new to eat will have materialized?
Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum one more chance?
Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end on your first try?
How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light fixtures?
When we are in the supermarket and someone rams our ankle with a shopping cart then apologizes for doing so, why do we say, “It’s all right?” Well, it isn’t all right, so why don’t we say, “That hurt, you stupid idiot?”
Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something that’s falling off the table you always manage to knock something else over?
In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as it was in summer when we complained about the heat?
How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?
And my FAVORITE……
The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four persons is suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends — if they’re okay, then it’s you.