I just finished reading a few blogs. The realization came to me like those butterflies in yesterday’s post, fluttering softly, that I care about some of the people who blog. Blogging is an unusual experience, and if done well, and for good reasons, will take you places you never would have willingly gone. It is as if a secret part of your inside leaks out into your blogging, and you aren’t even aware of it. Reading blogs for the past few years, I’ve seen through the words and the hype and looked upon real souls laboring beneath their blogging software.  My mind may disagree with their words, their philosophies, perhaps their purpose. But somehow, with the good bloggers, their human soul slides through the electronic connections and sneaks inside my soul. I’m not saying I know these individuals. I’m just saying that somehow, a tiny bit of their essence has touched me in some ethereal way, and I’ve grown to care about them.  And that caring has produced spiritual growth within me.

There is something odd and special about people who sit down at their keyboards and type into the darkness of cyberspace, their keystrokes flowing like butterflies through cables and wireless signals across the universe. When there is a connection among bloggers, suddenly the computer, the wires, the electronics vanish and it becomes what it always is, human souls interacting.

Here is kind wishes and thoughts to all of my fellow bloggers and readers out there in the dark.

May your Monday bring you surprises that delight you.

SCG

As the somber clouds collected in the western sky this afternoon, I sat in my small back yard with camera in hand, waiting for nature to wander by. As time wore on, two butterflies fluttered by, one awash in butterfly lust, and the other playing hard to get. They flickered through the air, almost reminding me of a bi-plane dogfight during WW-I. I don’t know if Mr Butterfly finally mated with Ms. Butterfly, as the rains came and things turned even more somber, in more ways than I’m free to report.

Nevertheless, enjoy these few shots of lustful butterfly aerial acrobatics. Click on each photo to see the enlarged version.

The chase begins…

She flees his advances….

He dives, she flutters…..

And then? Who knows……

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Do butterflies lust, or do they love? Lust is not complicated. Love is inordinately complicated. Like the concept of time. Does Time actually exist? Or is it just a man-made measurement of physical activity within the environment designed to allow two people to connect at the same coffee joint at the same moment? And what of love? Does it exist or are we just compiling a collection of symptoms into one huge ball of twine and naming it “Love”?

One thing I know. Cabernet Sauvignon. I’m not a blue nose when it comes to glorified grape juice. I can tell the difference between the really cheapo wines and the moderately cheapo wines. I’ve found Fetzer vineyards, a California wine that tastes much better than it’s $12 price suggests it should. They are also a green company, utilizing windmills, solar panels and such, and they are supposedly the largest grower of certified organically grown grapes on the North Coast [USA] and one of the largest in the world.

Today was one of those days that began promising enough, and then dove into the somberness of life with the grace and speed of a grand piano falling end over end down seventeen flights of stairs.

So, come to Daddy you little organic grapes!

Peace people. Peace.

SCG

My wife and I are heading out to our favorite diner. But the blue jays and grackles are already dining.

Imagine if you had to get your breakfast this way?

 Enjoy your peaceful Sunday morning folks.

SCG

More and more people are turning to scooters to get around. Including old farts. Like the one who got off of this scooter today.

The American flag I can live with. The sticker above it about having a permit to hunt illegal aliens is a bit strong. The “old fart’ sign right above his license plate is extremely accurate. The dead rubber chicken hanging on the back? Well……..I think serves as a warning to steer clear of the guy.

He was in a locally own store with his gray beard, hat with every imaginable button and patch you could think of, if you were a 137 year old World War I vet with no tack, taste or manners. He was surprisingly, spouting the sort of stuff you would imagine an old geezer to be spouting. Since this was a hardware store, and except for my wife there were all men around, (along with tools!) I think he thought he could “be himself”. Can we say extreme right of right wing fruitcake?

The amusing part was I know the owner. Despite his tough looks and the fact that he deals in hammers and screwdrivers and shovels and other “right-wing” stuff, he is Mr. Liberal. He handled it well, with tact and taste and manners.

It is a strange world folks. Very strange indeed.

Meanwhile, at breakfast this morning at our favorite diner out west a bit, my wife went to the bathroom and the food hadn’t come yet, so I got bored and took a photograph of the coffee creamer on the table, and managed to also catch the comb over head of the guy at the next table.

Thus wonderful piece of art is here for your enjoyment, at the normal charge. Nothing extra!

Well, unless something else as exciting as this develops later tonight, this is all I got for you for now folks.

Peace

SCG