BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… OLD FRENCH BRICKS. I remember the summer’s light dappled through the urban tree canopy of maple and birch and ginkgo, the summer sky a patchy blue over St. Louis, the old doors blue, red, green and white, each stoop, each 19th century doorway, leading to another home, another series of lives and…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… DARK TOWN SNOW. The painting hangs in the gallery, testament to a thousand small towns, a thousand Americas across the winter, a thousand winter nights. The weathered, lonely red bricks of an easily overlooked downtown, the black of the sky, white snow piled on old wooden steps. Unseen street lamp illuminates the…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… BURNT WOOD PRAYERS. The full wolf moon rises slowly in the early evening’s eastern sky. Last light of day and the Ozarks are shades of rust and umber, red and lemon yellow, the sky that pale creamy blue of early winter. Too daylight yet for stars. Only the moon can be seen,…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… A GREEN CHRISTMAS. “A green Christmas makes a full graveyard,” goes the old mountain saying. It is an old Appalachian omen, dating back likely to old Britain. But Vance Randolph recorded the saying in the Ozarks too and the words have echoed in my mind the past several days. Days in which…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS. The wind was a ragged squall line in the dark, blowing hard over the Missouri Ozarks, dropping temperatures some 30 degrees not long after the sun — a distant orange ball — had passed beyond misty western clouds. The longest night of the year is upon us. The…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… THE SHIPS & THE STARS. “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by…” And I remember a long ago and cold December evening, standing, ready for bed, barefoot, wearing one…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… COMMON CATHEDRALS. The limestone cliffs on Highway 165 near Table Rock Mountain tower above the road and above the lake which flows, ribbon-like, far below. Brief afternoon sun highlights the bluff, etching ancient karst rock in warm relief. Cathedral walls in nature are easy enough to overlook on a busy schedule —…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… THE DAY BEFORE. A lemon sky gathers, clouds a distant tangerine smudge where the sun is setting on the far western horizon, somewhere over Oklahoma it seems, and the ribbon road is again endless, east versus west, time over and again. The forest ridges tumble away on all sides, faceless, nameless to…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… STORYBOOK DIRT. The smell of the leaves is strong in the November dusk, strong and acidic and tannic and luminous, the smell of the forest’s death and rebirth, of the garden and autumn all at once. The sun slipped beyond the west seemingly only moments ago and now all is but dark.…
BEEN THINKIN’ ABOUT… FOREST OR FIRE. Hot afternoons and cold nights and the Ozarks’ oak forest blossomed in crimson, orange, and brilliant yellow. Fall has finally fallen, too late for Halloween, but right on cue. I drive home in awe, even as early dusk covers the hills in a gauzy purple blanket. At some point…