March 31, 2018 - Shenandoah National Park

Our day began from the Hawksbill Gap parking, Shenandoah National Park.  We hiked south along the Cedar Run Trail and linked over to the White Oak Canyon Trail.  From there we connected with the White Oak Canyon Fire Road which doubles as a horse trail (saw no equestrians) which brought us back to the parking. The beauty of this hike was the many waterfalls we saw in addition to the variety of flora and fauna (alas, no bears) that are part of natures cycle of renewal. The challenge for me was the elevation change. I typically due 800 to 1000 feet, and have not been hiking a lot recently.  The hike was described as moderate to strenuous with a total elevation gain of 2,794’ over 7.3 miles – a hearty day indeed with the challenging elevation change at the end. Thanks Rob (great leader) for insisting I eat chocolate toward the end.

Sunrise Shenandoah National Park

Hike leader, Rob

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Our lunch spot

Our group - Nate, Dan, Rob and myself

Driving home, overlook to the west

March for Our Lives - Have you ever felt like you could disappeared, like you could fall, and no one would hear?

March for Our Lives - March 24

House by Daniel MacIvor [Involves Strong Language]

POEM - The Garden

The Garden

Why did I plant it

starting this interest
this toil
creating a place for
my love

or 

a refuge for me

The obsession
and chaos 
the blur
to pattern

Morning

in the damp

Midday

enduring the heat

Afternoon

sweating on

With the evening 

the cool
pleasure

order
and the reward

Descending the steps

hand in hand
the cool terrace stones

beneath

caressing

our bare feet

The burple of the fountain 

the colors

an explosion

the breeze

welcoming

My garden

so it is planted
a retreat of delight

for my love

and me
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The photo is a shot of my favorite garden in the spring. It was my favorite garden that I built.  The blue bells, the previous spring I dug up from the river shore and transplanted.  I had the worst poison ivy rash of my life after digging and transplanting those blue bells. However, the following spring, they bloomed profusely, and to my delight! 

POEM - Niki

Niki

You wait here

Why can’t I come in

Wait here. I’ll only be a minute

On the edge

Discarded excess

Bleak in the winter gray light

The car grows stuffy

Minutes seem like hours

Did you fall asleep?

No. 

Why doesn’t Niki have kids?

She’s not married

She chews gum, you don’t let me

That’s because you forget to throw it in the trash
before bed

and then it’s tangled in your hair

Besides, its common

What’s ‘common’ mean?

Never mind

He said that!?

He can’t say that

ten minutes! It was
fifteen at the most

We're stopping by Niki’s

Why? I don’t like going there

It will only be a minute

You’re always on the phone with her

It’s almost Christmas, I need to drop off this box

I don’t like going there, it’s stupid

Don’t say ‘stupid.’ It’s common

What!?

Wait a minute!

He can’t do that!

Oh, oh, oh, Niki

Isn't that Niki's street?

Why don’t we go there anymore?

Niki no longer lives there

Tuba City Rodeo

Each morning I walked from my BIA bungalow across the school compound to the middle school wearing my jacket and tie. Teachers wore ties in those days. It was required.

Autumn in the high desert of Northern Arizona is a time of intense colors.  Early morning, mid day, or sunset, the light, darkness, the colors, and contrasts are acute. There is no washed-out time.

As I headed to school, behind the boys’ middle school dorm there were three of my students playing on the non-mechanical bull. 

Why a non-mechanical bull simulator behind a BIA middle school boy's dorm?   In the southwest, and particularly on the Navajo Reservation, rodeo was intensely popular among the students!  Horse back riding, calf roping, bronco and bull riding, all figured into the imaginations of the youth.  From an early age, the boys saw themselves as the “rodeo cowboy!”  Today it may continue, but then, there were local "rodeos." Much like Friday night football for Mid-Atlantic high school students, there were local rodeo competitions.  A favorite Friday or Saturday evening activity was to attend a local rodeo.  The Navajo tacos sold at the stands at these rodeos were delicious!

Every Navajo school boy’s dream was to ride the bronco or bull and to be the best doing so.  The adults supervising these school boys encouraged that dream.  So they created behind the dorm a non-mechanical bull.  This contraption, as there is no better word for this beastly thing, was an oil barrel strung between two poles, with huge springs on each end of the barrel with ropes attached to the springs.  A dusty old rug was strapped to the barrel, a saddle between the rider and the barrel.  This created a simulated bronco or bull.  One student would stand and hold one rope, another at the other end would hold the other rope.  They each would yank on their ropes as hard as they could, while a would-be bull rider would straddle the barrel and be given a simulated bull ride to match none found on any rodeo bull. If you could ride this, then you were a rodeo rider. 

That morning as I headed to school, my three students stopped their early morning bull riding.  “Hey, Mr. Nolan, you should ride the bull!”  

“No, thanks boys. I need to get to school.  See you in class.”

“Hey, Mr. Nolan! You ever ride a bull?”

“No, guys. I need to get to class.”

OK, I’m 22, naive, and whatever else leads one to let three school boys convince you to straddle an oil barrel strung between two poles, with them ready to give you the ride of your life, I mounted the bull!

The sky was brilliant blue when I looked up from the ground.

Their new Anglo teacher gave three boys a lot to talk about with their friends.  I hope their popularity rose as high as my ego fell.

On to school I walked to teach English Language Arts to non-English speaking children, or so I tried. There was learning that day.

POEM - The Gap

THE GAP

I see the wind

as the earth spins

under the leaves

I taste the cold

from the crispness

of the morning air

I hear the colors

with the crackle 

of yellow, red, and gold

I feel the height

with the falling

of the foliage

I smell the dryness

from the sun

as rain clouds gather

I shouldn’t hold on

If I let go

what will I have?

Hike in the Mountains

Sunday afternoon in the mountains.  A beautiful sunny day, cool, but the sky was so blue!

Living Room spring

Kitchen spring

Capucon Brothers - BBC Proms Weber, Brahms

POEM - Dawn Dusk

Dawn Dusk


I took your photo
and put it in a drawer
I could not look into the mirror
and see our reflection

You gazed back
not seeing me
You sang
and I heard a fading song
not the one about us

We are in other worlds
our timing off
the hours that gift you days
mark my long nights

Gautier Capuçon and Frank Braley - Fauré Après un rêve

I find Gautier's playing the best cello sound of any cellist.  "Gautier" is also an old family surname.  That is what first attracted me to him, and then I heard his sound - fantastic!  Faure's "After a Dream" is one of my favorite pieces.  I will post the Capucon brothers playing the complete Brahms's Double Concerto --- a great performance.

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Gabriel Faure:  Après un rêve (After a dream) Op.7, No.1 (1878)
Poem by Romain Bussine (1830-1899), after an anonymous Italian source (trans. David K. Smythe)

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In a slumber

which held your image spellbound
I dreamt of happiness,
passionate mirage,
your eyes were softer,
your voice pure and sonorous,
you shone like a sky lit up by the dawn;

You called me and I left the earth
to run away with you towards the light,
the skies opened their clouds for us,
unknown splendours,
divine flashes glimpsed,

Alas! Alas!
sad awakening from dreams
I call you,
O night,
give me back your lies,
return,
return radiant,

return,

O mysterious night.

Terrace spring