HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Textures of Tradition, Thanksgiving 2005

Sometimes, in light of all that is going on in our lives and in the world around us, it is easy to lose sight of things to be thankful for. Yet those are the very things that highlight the goodness in our lives.  I am so thankful for the love of my family, for the support of friends, and for the strength my faith allows me.  While I may regret the sadness that touches my life, it adds focus to the happiness I am granted.  I give thanks every day, but on today I also give thanks to the spirit of our forefathers (and mothers) who pathed our way and to the traditions that remind us of who we are and where we came from.  Happy Thanksgiving my dear friends and family.  Thank you for being a part of my life.

STILL HOPPIN' MAD!

Yeah, this was me the other morning when I first saw those hideous banner ads on the tops of all of my journals.  And one week later I'm still not any happier.  I have decided not to move my journals to another blog-host for the fact that I have too much time and work invested in my AOL sites, and I will be walking away from a community that I have grown to love.  I will, however, continue to display my displeasure in AOL's actions regarding the addition of ads onto personal space by including a disclaimer in all of my journals titles until they either remove the ads or offer an acceptable compromise.

SOLOMN OFFERING

Just one of the many flowers left at the memorials on Veterans Day.

VETERANS' DAY, 2005

Colorado's Memorial Park is located in Colorado Springs, next to the International Fallen Fire Fighters Memorial.  All branches of the Armed Forces are represented here in a memorial for Colorado's fallen sons and daughters during conflicts throughout the ages.

FOUNTAIN CREEK, AT THE EDGE OF FALL

Its been about 2 weeks since I last visited Fountain Creek.  The banks that were lush and green not too long ago are now covered with a blanket of dry leaves.

The cattails have shed their dark velvet coats and reach out for the breeze to catch its fluff and carry it away to distant lands.

The milkweed grew weary of waiting on the monarchs to show and went to seed without them.  There was no sign at all that the butterflies had visited the patch this year, not even an old chrysalis. 

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW

This was my first opportunity to capture a picture of a rainbow with my Nikon.  Standing on top of the mountain made it easy to see exactly where the rainbow touched down.  It was merely a matter of running to the other side of the ridge.

Unfortunately upon arrival I discovered that the elusive end of the rainbow had moved and the mythical pot of gold would remain beyond my grasp.

My camera has never been the same since my tumble on it late this summer.  Just the other day I discovered that my camera now had a very distinctive rattle to it.  My daughter Rocky had some news to share with me this morning:

'Hey mom, you know that shaking noise from your camera?  I have good news, it doesn't affect the pictures.  Its probably just something from your lense that broke bent when you fell and finally broke off!' 

Yeah, its just something that broke off of my lense, great news!  Thanks sweetie.  I feel better already!

MORE STUFF FROM MY OLD FILES (too tired to get new pictures)

I used to call these two trees 'The Twins'.  They grow in my neighbors yard behind my house.  Once upon a time the trees looked exactly alike.   Now they are like day and night.  And yet they still reach out to each other.

Scrubjays are a common sight in the woods here in Colorado.  I see them every time I go out to the mountains.  They are curious and always flitter over to see what I'm doing, but so far I've not been able to get them in close like the ones that reside at the Garden of the Gods, which are used to encountering humans on a daily basis.

I'm trying to get back into the swing of being a member of the work force again, and its harder than I thought it would be, even after just a 6 month break.  I haven't had time to get out with my camera in over a week.  Normally that would bother me, but quite honestly, I'm too tired to care right now. 

Congratulations to Nettie for winning the ViVi Award for the Best Use of Photography category with  JerseyGirl ~ Jersey Girl Journal ~ JerseyGirlJournal.com .  I have been a fan of her photography since I began journaling almost 2 years ago, and she was one of my inspirations to starting this photo journal (Sepintx was the other).  It was an honor to be nominated with her and the other nominees for this award.  Click here for a list of all of this year's ViVi Readers' Choice Award Recipients.

CLYDESDALE TEAM

The first beer I ever had was a Budweiser.  Why?  Well, because of the Budweiser Clydesdales of course!  My taste in beer has changed over the years, but I still love the beautiful Clydesdales.  The team was at a Military Appreciation program on Fort Carson today.  By the time I got there it was already dark, but the horses patiently tolerated my flash.  As big as they are, I still wanted to throw my arms around their necks and give them a big hug.  I probably would have too, if I could reach that high!

TREE CEMETARY (edited)

I call the hilltop that I took these pictures from The Tree Cemetary.  Once upon a time it was a thick, lush green slope that was a favorite bedding spot for deer and elk.  I'm not sure if it was lightning or artillery fired during a military training exercise that set the hill on fire, but it burned to the ground and years later the charred and bleached skeletons still beckon eerily towards the sky.

   

One can't help but walk in silence through the pinons and junipers.  The only thing growing are weeds on the ground.  New trees and brush dare not cross the invisible line onto the scarred earth, stopping right on the edge to pay their silent homage.  Even the animals avoid this area.  I spent almost an hour there on the ridge and the only creatures that ventured near were crows.  I couldn't help but notice that other burned areas have long since regrown, but this particular hill remains a scorched ruin.  I could almost swear that I heard the soft, mournful sigh of a hundred trees as they reached for the wind that blew gently through their bare branches.

Edited 11/02/05: Sorry but all the typos were really bugging me.