October 7, 2012

Blue Mound... golden.

Untitled

Untitled

Untitled

Today at Blue Mound.

22 comments:

edutcher said...

Oh, Madame, that is beautiful.

We've missed those lovely views of the upper Midwest.

MadisonMan said...

Sparkling weather today.

Carnifex said...

I would make some allusion to the trees in fall and old mens hair, but that would be trite. But that looks very relaxing.

Inga said...

Blue Mound State Park is absolutely breathtaking this time of year. Autumn in Wisconsin, glorious, too bad winter follows and stays so long.

rehajm said...

Life affirming! Pick a Jonathan off the tree for me..

Patrick said...

Beautiful autumns make facing winter easier to contemplate. Beautiful springs make it easier to get through the final weeks of winter.

Cold, crisp, colorful. Autumn.

Coketown said...

I LOVE THE MIDDLE PICTURE! It's wondrous. Well done!

rhhardin said...

Is the haze-blueing a metaphor for distance, or metonymy.

A question from John Hollander's Poetry of Everyday Life.

rhhardin said...

Campaign pic today.

edutcher said...

I'm seeing a lot of those, too.

Rusty said...

Gonna rain in a day or two.


pm317 said...

Nice!

Michael Haz said...

I was sitting in a chair this morning on the shore of the lake in northern Wisconsin where my cabin is located. The day was as beautiful as the day in Althouse's photos of Blue Mound State Park.

An eagle flew out of a tree and swooped down the the surface of the lake to pick up a fish. It flew away, fish in it's talons.

When it woke up this morning that fish didn't know today would be it's last day, but Bang! there it was in an instant. Death swooped down and that was that.

What if the eagle had dropped the fish? What would the fish have said to the other fish? Could it have described what happened, being seemingly dead and in another world, then dropped back to its world, alive? The fish would have had a near-death experience; seen the other side, then returned.

Would the fish have been changed by the experience?

A near death has happened to me. Heart, dead on the surgeon's table, then alive again. I saw myself there, then felt myself being drawn back.

When I attempted to describe it later all the usual answers were offered - anesthesia, lack of oxygen, etc. Thank goodness the people closest to me believed it, even though I don't have the language to adequately describe it.

The experience changed me in some subtle ways. Someone who knows me in passing can't see it, but it's there. The people who know me can see it, although I don't talk about it.

The biggest outward change is that I no longer argue. I just don't see the point of it. Life's too short. Discuss, have conversations, maybe even debate, perhaps, but not argue. It seems like such a foolish waste of time to argue. And mortal time can be surprisingly short, can end abruptly.

Back in the day when this was a new blog there were a bunch of us who could be called 'regulars'. We seemed to enjoy each other's company. There were jokes, stories, conversations on many topics, and plain fun. It was a treat to check in and see who had said what.

Time passed and this blog became more successful, and much, much larger. That is a credit to Althouse for her good work in making her blog an appealing place for so many. It also became more angry, and less fun.

Few topics carry on without devolving into a name calling, insulting, screaming fight. Where previously we all knew the names behind the names, now many of the most vitriolic and angry hide their identities. Anonymity is the enemy of the well-mannered, it seems.

I've stopped arguing here (and everywhere else). It's pointless. There isn't a sense of 'let's evaluate each other's ideas', it's just name calling and insults.

This blog was once akin to seeing neighbors at the general store and chatting a while. Now it's like a big newspaper. I don't get why the people who write letters to the editor have to scream at each other.

And the abuse heaped on Althouse and Meade? Moronic. It's like hurling insults at the newspaper editors - totally pointless. If you don't like the editors' point(s) of view, buy a different newspaper.

The eagle flew to its nest, fish in its talons. I sat there a while longer soaking in the warm sunlight, breathing in the crisp autumn air. Mornings like these are rare. You never know whether another one will come around.

Inga said...

Beautifully written, astute observations and very good advice Michael.

Patrick said...

Something for us all to consider, Michael. Well expressed.

ken in sc said...

A blue haze is usually caused by ozone emitted by trees. It's why the Blue Ridge is called the Blue Ridge--the Cherokee called them God's Great Blue Mountains--and why the Great Smoky Mountains are called smoky. Some politicians who have pointed this out have been vilified for it.

Kit said...

Thank goodness we all didn't waste the afternoon watching the Packer game. The up side is that, going forward, it'll be easier to blow them off (the games, that is).

ricpic said...

All summer they have stored the sun
And now they blaze it out,
A pledge and a promise in one
Against the coming rout.

wyo sis said...

I once mentioned the ozone smell at the beach and a science teacher had a meltdown declaring there was no such thing as ozone smell, and if there were it wouldn't be at the beach.
Whatever it is I love it.

DADvocate said...

You had me going for a minute. My first wife's parents are from Blue Mound, KS. A very small town of 275, which is 25 people more than it was when we were married.

AprilApple said...

Beautiful.

Rusty said...

ken in sc said...
A blue haze is usually caused by ozone emitted by trees. It's why the Blue Ridge is called the Blue Ridge--the Cherokee called them God's Great Blue Mountains--and why the Great Smoky Mountains are called smoky. Some politicians who have pointed this out have been vilified for it.




Here on the prairies, before the coming of the white settlers there were no trees on the tops of the hills and moraines. Prairie fires prevented them from growing there. Once the prairie sod was broken for farming the fires ceased and trees began to grow on the tops of the hills. "Blue Mound" probably is a reference to the color of the grass at a certain time of day.