We like it here in Port Arthur at the American Legion so much, we stayed an extra day and just lazed around. I’m reading a Mary Higgins Clark mystery and played with picture files most of the day. I have to qualify my book. I enjoyed her early books and then at some point she got sloppy and so formulaic you could guess the ending in the first five chapters. I quit reading her books.Recently, I picked up another, Night Time Is My Time and hey, she has redeemed herself. I get in the mood for mystery and true crime books. But, so far, Ann Rule is the best true crime writer. My recent favorite books? None are genre books. Night Whispers by Judith McNaught, Before Women Had Wings, by Connie May Fowler, Fortune’s Rocks, by Anita Shreve.
Looking back at pictures over the past few weeks, I’ll just post them willy- nilly. But first, let me warn you :
I KNOW YOU wouldn’t.
A beautiful sculpture of a local hero at Rockport.
Jim taking pictures on the streets of Galveston.
Remember the Naked Mermaid store? Well, they weren’t ALL naked.
I think this mermaid is drunk. I call her the floozie mermaid.
Getting ready for Mardi Gras in Galveston.
Quite a catch. These were caught with a rod and reel, when sport fishing was really a sport. It isn’t against the law here in Texas to pull your pick-up truck next to the river, turn on a big spotlight and shine it into the water, and net the fish up that are attracted to the light. Night fishing or frogging in every state I’ve lived in is not allowed, it puts the critter at such a disadvantage. Can’t call it sportsman-like. It is slaughter.
Another photo of the great Miss Joplin from The Gulf Coast Museum.
And exquisite glass pieces too.
Beautiful, aren’t they?
The way I look at it is this: I can’t afford beautiful glass like this. But, I can collect pictures of beautiful objects and keep them forever to look at and enjoy again and again.
I have a hard time to fathom the skill and technique it must take to create these pieces. There is a need for those of us who can only appreciate such beauty.
These tiny birds are not magnificent long-billed water birds, but cute little common street birds. I think I must like all birds, even the pesty jays, woodpeckers and crows.
Indelible impressions of the Texas Gulf Coast are the many boats at many marinas. The shimmering shadows in water, the blue, white, and gray colors. Lovely.
The black gold that put Texas on forefront of the economy.
This is a common practice to honor an artist who has died. Her paint brushes in the back of a turtle sculpture.
So, this is Texas. This morning, the Commander of the American Legion Post we are about to leave, invited us in for omelets with he and his wife and dog. Bar none. The friendliest post we’ve ever been to. What a way to end our stay here. Unforgettable. We will unload in Louisiana by the end of the day. Goodbye Texas, for now.
Those little birds are sparrows—my favorite bird—for the following reasons:
Of the least of nature’s creatures,
Barely a fistful,
The very symbol of insignificance,
Drab in color he and she,
Omnipresent in the old world and new,
I’ve never been anywhere they were not.
Perhaps they chitter at the poles.
My favorite bird,
I note them always and envy
Their cheerful insignificance.
Flying below the radar of public concern,
Flocks whip about in ecstasy.
Living below the threshold of notice,
They thrive as no other bird
In countryside or cityscape.
Only the cats and I see them
And are fascinated.
No hunter would waste a bullet.
Who would photograph one?
With needs so small and tastes so broad
They will never starve.
I’ve seen flocks outside McDonalds
Living well on sesame seeds.
Not endangered, not struggling
Like the whooper to survive.
Fearing no predator.
I shall live like the sparrows,
Unhassled by the burdens
Of fame and beauty, wealth or power,
Outside the limelight
In the zone of purest experience.
Let the world do what it will,
We sparrows will do just fine.