
Living Wide Rather Than Living Long
It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.
Living has yet to be generally recognized as one of the arts,
~Karl De Schweinitz
And just like that, we are a month into 2025. Hope you are doing well. All things considered, it’s been a good start to 2025. What exactly is all considered when the phrase “all things considered” is used? Hmm… One thing does seem to be clear, whether it has been coffee, tea, cider, or hot chocolate, the warm drinks have been very comforting as of late.
Since I don’t really do new years resolutions, I can honestly report that I have not broken a single resolution that I made. I have always considered them unrealistic and an excuse to not make betterment plans the rest of the year. I know it is considered a “new” beginning of the sorts, and I agree with that. I just don’t want to fall into the success or failure based on some date on a Gregorian calendar.
January has been a cold and surprisingly snow-covered month around Northeast Kansas. It looks like this has been the case in a large area of the Midwest and beyond. I know I am in the minority when it comes to wanting the snow in wintertime. I don’t understand that either. It’s winter, snow belongs in winter. Seems straightforward.
Like most folks my age, now being 64, I have great tales of snow head high when I was a kid. Being able to sled for weeks on end, building snowmen so tall we needed a ladder to get the head on. Snowball fights were so fierce that they were just shy of ambulance calls. Walking around town with a snow shovel knocking on doors to see if we could shovel a sidewalk for maybe a dollar. I remember making $10 in one day!
It is now a pleasure to remember those days. A pleasure that I wish every young boy and girl could have. With that said, just because one gets older does not mean such wintertime pleasures need to end. I still shovel snow. Now it’s my driveway that a few weeks ago took over two hours to shovel clear. I earned a whopping $0 for it, ha. The good part is I’m still able to do it myself.
Okay, enough nostalgia for now. I look forward to future travels taking Stormy and me to places of vast snow, beautiful winter landscapes, and quiet intimate times with nature. I am making plans for future winters to be spent in places far from our present home. We will see how all that goes, but one thing is certain, without a plan dreams will never be realized.
And speaking of Stormy, my future traveling companion, and best buddy in the world turned 4 January 17, 2025. It seems like just a few months ago I brought him home at exactly 8 weeks old. We typically go out on two walks per day. Early morning, and late afternoon. In January we did miss a couple days when the windchill was well be zero degrees. We like the cold, but we both do have limits. Mine I can literally feel. Stormy’s I need to stay on the side of caution for his own wellbeing. He has a tendency to go and go and go.
We are fortunate to live across from a very large park and nature area with around 5 miles of hiking trails. Through woodlands, along a creek, and areas of prairie restoration. We both love spending a few hours each day there.
I will spare you the typical “how much I love my dog” stuff, but one thing is certain. We have a lot of experiences to live, moments to enjoy, and memories to make. My hope is to share many of them with you as well.
How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives.
~Annie Dillard
White-Eyes
by Mary Oliver
In winter
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird
with its white eyes
shoves and pushes
among the branches.
Like any of us
he wants to go to sleep,
but he’s restless—
he has an idea,
and slowly it unfolds
from under his beating wings
as long as he stays awake.
But his big, round music, after all,
is too breathy to last.
So, it’s over.
In the pine-crown
he makes his nest,
he’s done all he can.
I don’t know the name of this bird,
I only imagine his glittering beak
tucked in a white wing
while the clouds—
which he has summoned
from the north—
which he has taught
to be mild, and silent—
thicken, and begin to fall
into the world below
like stars, or the feathers
of some unimaginable bird
that loves us,
that is asleep now, and silent—
that has turned itself
into snow.
Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.
~Pablo Picasso

Spellbound
by Emily Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.
The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.
Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
Thank you for this visit. I do appreciate it.
I’m finding more time on my hands these days since my November 2024 retirement. That has now led to more projects that I want to work on and more time being devoted to my photography as well as Stormy. I will never neglect him for my own desires to get something done. He is a dedicated companion who has filled my life with more joy than I could ever explain.
Monthly posts here on my website should become the norm. If you are subscribed to my email list you will be notified when they are published. Images are constantly being added to the gallery with most being available as prints at Fine Art America.
Stay warm, and keep enjoying our wonderful winter season. Talk to you again soon.
