R.H. Snow's Blog, page 47

Wars and Rumors of Wars

The children are dead; mothers are weeping

wars and rumors of wars

The news is not saying - anchors are sleeping

wars and rumors of wars

Down in the Valley, beyond the green fields,

sun shining bright on the weapon he wields,

a man will fight for the family he shields

wars and rumors of wars

~~~~~

It’s spring in the desert, octillo in bloom

wars and rumors of wars

the desert’s alive with Anaqua’s perfume

wars and rumors of wars

Along the recasa, Chachalacas bring

the news of the Valley, where truth-bringers sing

of death on the Rio, where ricochets ring -

wars and rumors of wars

~~~~~

The media glows with celebrity noise

wars and rumors of wars

friends and their foes playing games with their toys

wars and rumors of wars

but down on the Rio, Destiny waits;

word from the front weaving Fortunes and Fates,

bringing the truth of the Guns at the Gates -

wars and rumors of wars

Congratulations to the Prometheus Award Best Novel Finalists from Fellow Nominee WATCHER of the DAMNED!

The Finalist list for the Prometheus Award Best Novel of 2021 has been released - *insert drum roll HERE*:

http://lfs.org/blog/

Out of a field of twelve nominated authors, four authors' works were chosen for this year's award:

1) Nobel Laureate Kazuo Ishiguro

2) Britain's 'Orange Prize' Winner Lionel Shriver

3) Best Selling Sci-Fi Author and Aerospace Systems Engineer Karl K. Gallagher

4) Best Selling Author, Programmer and Science Columnist for SyFy and Wired, Wil McCarthy

With this stellar field of candidates, we are just honored to be nominated for this award! Thank you to all our supporters, and good luck to the Prometheus Award Best Novel Finalists from R. H. Snow and our Team at WATCHER of the DAMNED!

MUSIC of WATCHER of the DAMNED: In the Garden by C. Austin Miles, 1912

Music featured in R. H. Snow's Sci-Fi Western Series, WATCHER of the DAMNED: 'In the Garden' aka 'I Come to the Garden Alone' by C. Austin Miles in 1912 (Shilo's Theme).

IN THE GARDEN

‘In the Garden’ - Vocals and piano, Rebecca Hancock Snow. All photos property of Rebecca Hancock Snow, song in the public domain.

Easter comes, and with it comes the desire to sing the Old Gospel Hymns.

They are a part of the fabric in our lives here, the tapestry of voices of the dead, woven into memory and display on the Altar of our Hearts. When the Special Days come, we sing and weep, but we don’t know why -

perhaps it is because we hope that someday, someone will remember us. If they do, shall we hear them?

Pay special attention to the clicking and creaking - it the sound of a 130+ year old upright cabinet grand piano singing along. In the Garden' is a favorite hymn at Shiloh and yes - deep in the night, when the Church is empty and the moon is full, this song has been heard: the music of a heavenly piano, far away...

~~~~~IN THE GARDEN~~~~~

I come to the garden alone,

While the dew is still on the roses,

And the voice I hear falling on my ear

The Son of God discloses.

~~~~~

Refrain:

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own; And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known

~~~~~

He speaks, and the sound of His voice

Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,

And the melody that He gave to me

Within my heart is ringing.

~~~~~

I’d stay in the garden with Him,

Though the night around me be falling,

But He bids me go; through the voice of woe

His voice to me is calling.

~~~~~

Refrain:

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own; And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known.

~~~~~

❤️Happy Easter❤️

-----

From 'WATCHER of the DAMNED, TransMutation Texas' by R. H. Snow:

"She wept, wanting God to answer her tears. Head in her hands, elbows on her knees, she prayed out of her broken heart, with no way of knowing if anyone out there answered back. Leaning her head back against the cool wall of the bathroom, she wondered if others had been here before, thinking this same thing.

She wiped her eyes. Far away, she heard new music. A piano played, faint, tinny, and out of tune, but the melody was known to her. It was a song about God in the Garden.

I come to the Garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses...

She closed her eyes, remembering what it felt like to be loved by God. There had been times when God seemed so real and she would hear Him—not as he sounded on the WeSpeex Ring, but how He sounded in her heart. It made her wonder if it was true, and if it was, then why had God abandoned her? It was a beautiful song, one they would sing in the worship services.

The Watcher must be playing the old piano....

She felt a little better. Music feels like love. In that moment, Love was enough."

-----

"Wide as the Texas Sky" : SUPERCELLULAR

R. H. Snow, 04/12/2022, 5-7PM, Limestone County Texas, filtered for contrast. Supercell, cloudtop 51K ft, produced an EF3 tornado in Salado, TX.

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.

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.

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

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.

"Wide as the Texas Sky": WATCHER of the DAMNED does Texas WX #1

03/14/22 - R. H. Snow

WATCHER of the DAMNED garners 🌟3 Prometheus Award Nominations🌟 for Best Novel of 2021!

Prometheus Awards Logo

My 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…