Started at the front door and wandered around taking photos on this perfect autumn day.
canyon country
Autumn Flowers
Purple and gold
carpet emerald grass
from recent rains
Note: I live on a canyon rim near Amarillo, Texas. One story as to now Amarillo acquired its name is from the fact that in the both the spring and fall, the countryside is carpeted with yellow flowers.
Day Trip to Caprock Canyons
Caprock Canyons State Park, at the southern end of Palo Duro Canyon, requires about 1 1/2 hours to drive from my house. Yesterday, we met the Panhandle Native Plant Society there to investigate flowers and grasses.
When we first arrived, it seemed blue might break through the cloud cover, but it did not.
The park ranger took us to several different sites to identify different flower and grass species. The above is an area which in the early 90s was a cotton field and has been restored with native vegetation.
We drove to another area which remained “wild”–never cultivated.
Then we drove to a picnic area overlooking the lake. Close to there we found the poppy below.
After lunch, we parted with the rest of the group and drove to the end of the road. Martina had hoped to see bison–the state bison herd roams there. At this point we had seen none. As I drove along, a bison bull was strolling down the road. Martina took this photo from the side window. He was only a couple of meters from the car.
We stopped and took a few more photos where the road ends. I have hiked from this point in the past, but not yesterday.
After leaving the park, we headed to Silverton, Texas, to visit a coffee shop there which was recently featured in a Texas magazine as the place to go.
I loved the murals and sculptures. The owner is a sculptor and also a raptor trainer. The shop features coffee, desserts, unique clothing, and art.
On the way back we stopped at the Palo Duro Canyon overlook/picnic area on highway 207.
If you are in the Amarillo or Canyon, Texas, area, I highly recommend this day trip.
Almost Autumn
Golden glow lays over the land
Praying mantis walks up the window
Storm clouds gently glide through azure
Cutting Yucca
Yucca will take over if you let it.
Every summer after the blooms dry, I tackle them with long,
red-handled clippers and cut off long stalks.
Not bothering to put on boots, I set out in black and grey Chacos,
cutting stalks in places unreachable by tractor.
I climb down to a rough area, open these long, red-handled clippers,
chop off the dead blossoms, then look down.
She lies there, her body slightly bigger than the size of my upper arm,
fat, not long.
A snake stretched out, only 1/8 inch from the front of my Chacos.
I look again. Crap. She’s a rattlesnake, one of those short,
stout prairie rattlers, perfectly blending with the grey and brown
rocks and soil.
Slowly, I inch backward, taking care not to fall on the steep slope.
When several feet away, I run to the barn, grab two shovels off their hooks,
run back. She’s gone. I search everywhere around.
I never find her.
This Evening
Raging wind gone still
Mockingbird carols to Sunset
Dusk whispers to Night
Day 127
Tan grass stretches miles and miles as far as eyes can see.
The water in the indigo bird bath evaporates in one day.
Playa lakes, full last summer, surrounded then in emerald grass, lay waterless.
Thirty-five miles an hour winds create fog-like clouds of dust across the horizon.
Grit, wind hurled, buffets cars and trucks driving down the long, straight highways.
Dust-fed sunrises and sunsets clad skies in orange, hot pink, vermillion, violet, mauve.
Day 127 with no measurable precipitation.
Note: I wrote this ten days ago. That evening it rained .01 inches. None since then. We are approaching four months with just that .01 inches, nothing more. Every time it warms and the winds come, the weather forecast mentions high fire danger. All counties and state parks near here have burn bans. March is a windy month.
Walking Among the Flowers
After feeding the horses, completing chores, a late afternoon walk to look for the last of the wild flowers took my fancy. Here in the canyon country of the Panhandle of Texas, the majority of wildflowers are three colors: yellow, white, purple.
Butterflies feeding in the gay feather.
At first I thought this might be bitterweed but now, not sure.
Although this one and the last one may resemble each other, they are different.
Looked up, the sun decided to shine–at my place four inches of rain in the last week and more than seven inches ahead of normal.
Black foot daisies and prairie zinnias bloom from early spring almost until frost.
Athena among the flowers.
Prickly pear can grow almost anywhere.
I almost missed this one hidden among the grass.
Clouds
Clouds
Sunrise
Sunset
Beauty
Summer
Winter Sunset
wind stills, an unusual calm settles
geese fly so low, the whir of wings floats earthward
two hoot owls call, haunting echoes in the canyon
cerise, vermillion, amber encompass the land
a chill creeps slowly through ancient junipers
