Ghost Mountain

You have to be willing to make a detour...and the road, though paved, is full of potholes. Of course that doesn't mean people slow down in the least. They seem to know where the holes are in time to swerve around them while they are whizzing past me at 70 miles an hour. I'm sure the speed limit on those roads is forty five, because it isn't posted, but they must think there is no limit. Ah well, there's very little traffic out here, even on a day so beautiful. It's around seventy five degrees; thy sky is full of poofy clouds, and there's a myriad of little red roads to explore.

Claye and I took a little time off from our drive home. (Actually we added a few minutes to the drive home...which, oddly enough comes out to the same thing) After inadvertently entering a driveway and asking directions from the farmer's wife, we found a road that led right up to the foot of what looked like "Ghost Mountain". (It's Oklahoma, ok? Anything taller than the grain elevator is called a mountain) I don't know where it got its name. Really, there's no place for ghosts to hide on it at all, but that's what the kids called it. Looking at it up close reminded me of a certain sophomore class party a few years ago when we decided to climb Ghost Mountain.

It was an easy climb to the top, and I probably would have forgotten the whole incident were it not for the foolish insistence of three girls who, ignoring advice and clearly stated direction, decided to climb it once more after supper so they could "watch the sunset from the top". They slipped away as we cleaned up the picnic detritus. We called. They giggled and pretended not to hear. Soon, they sighed triumphantly from the top as the sun slipped down into the wheat fields. Suddenly, it was dark. They had no flashlights, not even cell phone lights because they hadn't been invented yet. There was a lot of squealing, and terror, and bold rescuing on the part of the brave guys in the class, who led the clinging girls back to the safety of the ground--which lends understanding and perhaps motive to the girls' uncharacteristic lack of judgment.  They all made it down to the cars with only a few scrapes and bruises.  I fussed and fumed all the way home about how the party could have ended in broken legs and backs, and who knows what! By the time I got home, I had murmured it out of my system and was able to face the rest of the year without strangling a small subset of the sophomore class. Never-the-less, I haven't taken any more classes on a "Mountain-climbing" party.

Today, Claye and I parked the car beside the road and got out. If we had only obtained permission from the farmer, who was plowing nearby, we might have ventured a small climb of our own. As it was, we just poked around a bit and took pictures.













Our three word Wednesday prompt was : cling, murmur, taken

March-The Lamb and the Lion

I took a little trip today to a town about thirty miles from here. The morning was golden when I left home, so I stopped to take pictures of the yellow flowers on green fields.

In the distance, I could see a white bank of approaching clouds, like a line of surf heading toward the shore.

The sky was beginning to darken when I arrived, but by the time my shopping was finished and I headed toward home again, there were curly clouds everywhere.

It made for a beautiful sky. I drove past the windmills just so I could get their picture against that swirling, leonine, backdrop.

As I drove west, the skies began to lighten through the clouds

It's amazing to me how a distance of thirty miles can affect the scenery!   I arrived home to find full sunlight on the trees, just like it was when I left.

March Skies-- the evening and the morning

Coming home from play practice at around 6:30 on Tuesday evening, I saw this out to my left as I drove southward through the countryside. Of course I stopped. Who wouldn't, with the moon suspended just so, as if it were an escaping bubble from the sudsy clouds below...

Then I zoomed in a little, steadying the camera for the shot, and catching the shine on the surface a little better. It needed a song, but my brain was simply to exhausted to write one. There was the moondancing song from Celtic Thunder, however, so I played it in the car as I turned and wended my way to the West.

The next morning, I awoke, refreshed and ready to discover this blossoming tree outside my door. Obviously, the warm night winds had shaken its flowers out of their little buds.

I drove at a leisurely pace toward work, which, on Wednesday, begins thirty minutes later. Ahead, were clouds, struggling to contain the persistent sun as it poked and beamed its way through.

The fields are green in March--wheat coated and rain hungry. Meandering through the back roads gave me the freedom to pull over suddenly and take pictures as I approached the cloud bank.

And then...as I was standing there in the early morning quiet, the sun came bursting in, splitting the glass on my camera lens like a star. I snapped it, then jumped back into my little Dusky Wuggins, and drove to school where the inside world awaited--like a different planet.

A Foggy Morning Blurs the Sun

As I was leaving the house for school this morning, my phone rang. It was Zack, one of the sophomores who drives from this direction toward school.

He said, over a patchy cell phone line: "Uh, you might want to go the south way to school today...down by the bridge... there's some--and then his voice cut out entirely.
Well, I could tell by his tone that this wasn't about a terrible accident, so I knew:  he shares my love of the scenery, and today must be a gorgeous one for a camera.

I took the southern route.







At first I could only see a red glow, then a muffled sun, rising in cloudy soup.

Before long, however, I made out great patches of fog that had settled noiselessly into all the low-lying areas.














Down by the river, I dove into a dark tunnel of the stuff.

Then the road began to climb, and I emerged to the beauty of higher fields--sheeted in thin wisps of fog that reflected the sun like gold.





Such a beautiful morning!

Thanks, Zach. 

September Sky

It didn't take much to get me out of the house
for a serious walk this evening. There were
clouds but no thunderous grumbles or lightning
threats. So I asked Clay, my faithful walking companion and somebody who doesn't mind my stopping occasionally, ahem, well, every few minutes to take a picture.The sun was setting quickly so we headed out of town where the fields are full of views. After four or five blocks, my camera gave me the dreaded "low battery" message, and promptly refused to come back on. There was a brief debate over whether we should go home for more batteries or keep walking so we could see what we would have been able to take pictures of. I was all for going home, but Clay pointed out that by the time we got back it would be too dark for pictures. We trudged on.
At the edge of town, we turned around and saw the sky lit up--like this but a whole sky hemisphere more impressive. I reached for the camera and turned it on. Nice. It came on...and stayed on for this picture and about eight more. Then it died again, but I didn't care. I had captured a little slice of golden September sky.

There is Something Lonely about a Sunset...

Rich, velvet color fled my darkening world and dropped into clouds beyond the little hills. I wanted to grab it with both hands, like a blanket, and pull it back over me. Alas.

A Foggy Sunrise

Fog veils the valleys
Hovers o'er the horizon
And smudges the sun

Western Oklahoma

School was out today so that all the teachers could attend the funeral of a dear lady--one who had faithfully attended all our concerts for many years--the choir director's own mother.

Her name was Ruby, and, like her name, she sparkled as she lived her life. The wife of a pastor, the mother of three sons, the grandmother and great-grandmother of many, she shared with them her gift for music and her love of great songs. The service reflected this. It was a celebration, replete with all the old hymns we have come to cherish as outward proclamations of our inward hope and comfort.




We drove north in the early morning and saw sunlight glitter on windmills in the dawning.Passing through several small towns, we saw elevators with wheat painted on the sides.

Coming home we took a different route, so the afternoon found us in northwestern Oklahoma with little traffic and steppe-like terrain. The day was hot; the skies were blue, and the clouds were just poofy little fluffs.

Walking in the Rain

Swiftly to the edge of town
We walked to watch the sun go down

We saw the moon behind the cloud
And heard the crickets trill aloud

Somewhere West we saw it rain
On dusty fields and dry terrain

Saw the cloud bank pink and gray
Saw the lightning skip and play
We hurried home and the clouds gave chase
And we were soaked; we lost the race
But the rain felt wondrous on my face

One Amazing Storm

As we drove north through the golden fields at sunset, we could see storm clouds ahead and to the east of the road we would be driving. In the West the sun was brilliant, so we turned in that direction for about nine miles, then veered North again, skirting the worst of the storm, but pulling over several times to take pictures. Do you blame us?


Claye took most of these out her window when we slowed or stopped. Occasionally she handed me the camera so I could get pictures out of mine. Turtle patiently bore with us. The variety of scenes in such a short distance was hard to believe, and the pictures also varied in intensity--from soft evening light to silhouette dark.











The difference was also notable from West to East. As we faced the sun, the background appeared darker. Later, safe at home, we smiled when we uploaded them and saw how beautiful they turned out. Isn't God amazing?

Our day has been rather like that too. We began the day with a drive to the city for a funeral, spent time visiting with my sister, then headed south on a new highway with great scenery (no stopping for pictures there, however. It was a toll road with no space for gawkers)

We arrived in Lawton, met Marie's family, and were all in time to welcome Elijah and Marie into their newly-rented home and watch them open wedding gifts. We celebrated by eating pizza and drinking diet coke with lime.  Life is great! It's so full of variety and shades of beauty--darks and pinks and black silhouettes outlined with heaven's light.

Old Farm Houses

My favorite photo subjects just sit there and let the sunlight play all over them: Old farm houses--especially old farm houses with a windmill. I really can't resist taking pictures of them. Here's one I discovered Saturday not too far from home. It was sitting so quietly on the corner that I actually missed it the first time I drove by, but the cotton crop caught my eye on the way back and...voila!

Driving into Storm Clouds

As we came home from Texas we drove into this beautiful storm. Fortunately, the rain didn't start until we pulled into town. We would have made it home completely dry...but then we wouldn't have had time to stop and take these gorgeous pictures.