R.H. Snow's Blog, page 46
April 9, 2022
For the Glory of the Skies
American White Pelicans, Limestone County, Texas - 9:48AM, 04/09/2022
For the beauty of the earth,
for the glory of the skies,
for the love which from our birth
over and around us lies.
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this, our hymn of grateful praise!
-”For the Beauty of the Earth”; Folliet Pierpoint, 1864
Extraordinary life occurs in the midst of the ordinary. Our lives are made of little steps up the mountain, a foot placed here, a hand gripped there - we are constantly seeking to steady ourselves, as well we should. The beauties of the earth are beneath our feet, and we cast our eyes down to work our way through this earthly life; only when we feel safe in our footing do we lift our eyes to witness the glory of the skies.
In the midst of the mundane we will witness the moment of extraordinary miracles - if only we look up.
As a lifelong birder, I have come to appreciate the small moments, the everyday birds that flit into my existence. House Sparrows, Cardinals, White Capped Sparrows, Great Blue Herons, and Black-Capped Chickadees - these are the faithful, always there, always within sight of the back porch. Day in, day out, they present themselves as jewels in the glittering edge of winter, singers in the sweltering heat of summer;
Then come the seasonal wanderers. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, Cattle Egrets, Red-Winged Blackbirds, and Cedar Waxwings; they come with wings spread to embrace the season that called them. These are the migrants of spring, summer, fall and winter. We cajole them with feeders and special plantings to coax their return, and they do.
Next are the wonders, the revelations of the landscape - those who live among us, unseen unless they choose to be revealed. Bluebirds, Rainbow Buntings, Inca Doves and Caracaras… they are glimpsed from afar, or perhaps tantalise us with a visit to a watering trough in drought. They are the wonders of our world, sight unseen -
But then we witness the miracle.
These are the ones whom we never expected to see, although we hoped for them. We have read of them in our Birding Atlases, we studied their silhouettes, we have thought about what it would feel like, to see the great flurry of wings…
and they are here.
To those who live along the coast, it is no miracle perhaps. But to see the twisting, twirling line of the collective we, thronging to life in massive black tipped wings and flaming orange gullets above the prairie, it becomes the miracle. Miracles are not of our choosing; they come to us as God wills, and we witness them whirling on the wind, soaring to the sun;
then the Pelicans are gone.
We turn again to the song of the now, feeding for the faithful in our lives. We return to the sparrow, cherishing life as we know it, the sweet and familiar singing their song…
loving the mundane, remembering the miracles.
April 7, 2022
A Texan, Upon Reading Robert Burns "Address to a Haggis"
Anow and then, when reading Burns,
my Texas Heart for Highlands yearns;
amongst his Gaelic flowers and ferns
his “Address to a Haggis” turns…
~~~~~
the finest words a Scottish tongue
has ever spoken , cursed or sung
are writ for all eternity
in Haggis’ epic memory.
~~~~~
“Perhaps,” I think “I could abide
if it were battered and deep fried…
but Haggis no more; it would be
instead, a Texas Tragedy.”
~~~~~
Thus I leave Haggis as it was
to Burns and under Scottish laws;
A portrait for the world to see -
Fresh Pict delectability.
March 29, 2022
Carpe Per Diem
Lost in the moment, finding my way
back to the morning, the start of the day
where the feelings were flying and words went astray
what should I say?
I haven’t yet found out the way to make time
turn from the ugly and back to sublime
the rewind of memory turns on a dime
back to the prime…
Seizing this moment, I’m storming this tower
before life went sideways and sweetness turned sour
I suddenly realise I have the power -
This is the hour
March 21, 2022
Calling down the gods
We’re playing Twister again this evening, and the spotters have been alerted. Supercells may develop, bringing damaging winds in excess of 60MPH, very large hail above 2’, and a growing possibility of tornadoes - some possibly strong, long track tornadoes. So it’s time to open the blinds and fire up the radars…
Science has been kind to us.
What we once had no way to see, we can now scry with radar; Doppler technology has been a Godsend. The National Weather Service has invested human lives to discern Monster Storms, men like Tim and Paul Samara and Carl Young who sacrificed all to cast precious instrumentation at the feet of these elemental spirits - and they learned much -
but despite the stunning advances, it will never be enough to completely cage the Beast known as ‘Weather’.
Weather is capricious, the fickle whim of energy, moisture, and heat; no matter how advanced the radar may be, nothing can completely predict the development of supercell storms. The imaging of explosive multi-dimensional system growth is still as much art as it is science; meteorologists become forecasting shamans, calling down the elemental gods through complex calculations. But it still is not enough;
Wind and rain demand our attention. Eyes to the skies, we wait, wondering if today will be the day we see the Finger of God press down upon our waiting world…
or perhaps just a little white cloud in a bright blue sky, floating beneath the yellow sun.
It seems so benign, in that moment, when all the world is beautiful. But the wind stirs, the sky turns green and once more the world becomes dangerous and fierce; technology reveals the ancient forces of the towering storm, drawing our awe and terror towards the darkening sky.
March 16, 2022
"Wide as the Texas Sky": WATCHER of the DAMNED does Texas WX #1
03/14/22 - R. H. Snow
March 14, 2022
WATCHER of the DAMNED garners 🌟3 Prometheus Award Nominations🌟 for Best Novel of 2021!
Prometheus Awards LogoMy Sci-Fi Western Series, WATCHER of the DAMNED, has scored not
one, not two, but THREE Prometheus Nominations for Best Novel of 2021!
To be fair, I’m only the Author and Illustrator - my Team made this happen, so I just wanna say I LOVE YOU TEAM. Now please pardon me while I go run around the DubbleWide of D00m and whoop…
March 13, 2022
March 8, 2022
Waiting for Roses
We’re waiting for Roses;
they live in a Van
that wanders the Universe where e’re it can
Through the streets of the township, the valley, the glen
The Roses are coming - we just don’t know when
~~~
The Email said Saturday
they would arrive
Then Monday, then Tuesday - we pray they’re alive
They represent Beauty and Temporal life
but they’re stuck in a time warp where timelines runs rife
~~~
Today or tomorrow
or maybe next year
No one may know when Day shall draw near
We wait for Deliverance in hope mixed with fear;
We’re waiting for Roses -
oh look…
they are here!
February 26, 2022
The Garden of D00m
Spring is coming. I know this because I’m looking at seed catalogues.
This is the fantasy part of gardening, the imagining of tomatoes and cucumbers that springs from the darkness of winter, when all is a sea of mud and frost. But I heard the sun will come out tomorrow and that means I must plan the garden now.
Already it is taking over my mind as I play imaginary Tetris with garden rows; within those rows, plants and vines are shuffled around to fall into neat little boxes. Trellises and raised beds are erected and destroyed on graph paper, for I still love graph paper and number two pencils, and this means I will wear down the erasers to nubs as I obsessively draw page after page of garden plans, each with a different objective.
Survival Garden? Sweet Potatoes and Kale.
Tex-Mex Garden? Tomatillos and Serrano Peppers
Southern Garden? Red Velvet Okra and Collard Greens
Heirloom Garden? Purple Hull Peas and Patty Pan Squash
Why choose? I become greedy…
The seed catalogues are garden porn. I scroll through page after page of delectable delights, each one tantalising me to try varieties of vegetables I have never known, luring me further and further astray from the faithful varieties that have served me so well in the past. I become obsessed with yellow pear tomatoes and arugula; I envision salads with olive oil and lemon pepper, and I cannot stop the yearning -
I order all the seeds.
My family inwardly weeps. They have been through this so many times before; each year, they watch as I spiral out of control, thinking, hoping, dreaming of gardens. I talk of it over dinner, describing the dishes that will grace our table when the harvest season comes, the myriad delights of the earth becoming a feast…
I openly declare it - this time is different! I have new techniques, new gardening ideas that will surely succeed. My loved ones listen politely, but I know what they are thinking.
I know.
Waiting is the hardest part. Every day, minions are sent to check if the packages have arrived, but they return empty-handed; I pout and order more seeds, because I have come up with a new idea, one that involves herbs and a spiral bed made from native rock and repurposed aluminum cans. It will be a masterpiece…
The boxes of seeds finally arrive. I open each with trembling hands, shaking the little packets and listening; the rattle rattle is music, the music of little baby foodlings. I am enchanted as I stand over them, the hope of Gardens to come…
This time it will be different; I breathe to myself, alone with my seeds. This time I will weed religiously, and water only when needed; through the love of my hands and the sweat of my brow will come the colourful bounty of this Texas soil. My ancestors will look down from their cabins in the sky and will bless me with their gifts, the gifts which have so long eluded me…
This time it will be different. If I pray it often enough, it could happen.
February 21, 2022
I'll Not Go Down Without A Fight
Now the sleeping eyes awaken,
Startled by the brutish boot
As the Caesar steps, ascending
On the tongues of critics mute.
~
Thus the lash of tyrants ever
starts so soft, of falsehoods made;
‘til the whip of brazen boldness
on the back of Truth is laid…
~
Other hands may meekly tremble,
other eyes may turn their sight;
God help me to face the foe!
I’ll not go down without a fight -
~
Heart unfettered, lift the banner!
Liberty lives in the light
Freedom dies when darkness wins;
I’ll not go down without a fight.
~
Let me grasp the lash with laughter
Let my spirit mock the night;
Thus to tyrants always, sing -
I’ll not go down without a fight!
