“What is that peculiar smell?” Roger asked.
“Smell? What smell?” Brenda sniffed. “Perhaps you mean ‘scent’, dear, like perfume maybe?”
She moved closer, flirtatiously, but Roger took no notice. He was too busy sniffing the breeze.
“No, no. It’s definitely odiferous. Sort of a mix between the last rotting bit of carrion and the stinky Stapelia* your Aunt Irma insists on rolling in just before she comes to visit.”
No one can argue against the great advances of science and technology in virtually every sphere of modern life. We know more today than we have ever known. But we are more superstitious today than ever. Why?
Superstitions have lasted for millennia across every class, culture, and clan known to man. Did you know that the first cave paintings were probably part of a ceremony for good fortune in hunting?
I know brilliant scientists, researchers, doctors and surgeons working with the latest advances in scientific knowledge in their fields who are more likely to consult an astrologer than not for life-changing decisions or are devoted to the pursuit of what some may term the greatest superstition of all: religion. Why?
At twilight
the winter day wanes.
In the valley
the blue mist descends
like a blanket
on the trees.
I strain to see
the crepuscular wanders
of nimble deer
bereft of light
and fear.
DP Photo Challenge: Landscape
Say, it’s tricky, quite tricky, isn’t it,
To talk to a squirrel or a rock or a tree
Or a painting by your favorite artist
And believe that somehow it can see
The heart of you that can bleed
And give you all that you desperately need?
Or maybe you talk to the farmer as he hoes
Or the doctor you pay two hundred by the hour
Or your friend who is trying on her clothes
Or the starry-eyed fan who brings you a flower
And say there’s a part of you that’s dying inside
A soul-crushing pain from which you can’t hide.
(An ode of sheer gratitude to a wondrous blank space that invites our creative attention)
Memories and refrigerator doors
Blank spaces covered with magnetic miasma
Of memories old, up and coming, and new,
Now I want to remember you, each one,
Refrigerator doors of bygone days
And the door I opened just today.
Italian movie director Franco Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth (1977) is a classic and possibly the best film representation of the life of Christ. Where many directors of Biblically-based films are ham-handed with dialogue, characterization, and symbolism, Zeffirelli is subtle and nuanced.
For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen. (Romans 11:36)
The following is in response to the “World’s Best Widget” Daily Post prompt, which grants me “magical engineering skills,” but not, I’m afraid, much more.
So sally forth, little doggerel, for whatever use you may be!
A good snowstorm was all it took to make clear nature’s cold designs. We were snug and warm indoors until it came time to shovel out from under all the snow.
And then to be greeted by a still to be cleared patio with inviting “snow seats,” perfectly designed by mother nature for pillowy softness. Did I say inviting? Only if you wanted to “freeze your buns off.” Brr.
#Cee's Odd Ball Photo Challenge
At the first stroke of midnight
I was watching from afar
God’s blessing surrounding the New Year!
