Author: Craig L Haupt

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 29

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Reflection

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 29: “Reflection”

Continuing my Journey to Ukazoo, I stayed in New York and made my way to a remote area near Saranac Lake in the Adirondack Park.

Usually a Bed & Breakfast is called a Bed & Breakfast but the one I found was Unity’s “Soft Comfort to Heavenly Dreams” & “Taste Bud Sensations”. Primarily known as a Self-awareness and natural foods retreat, the Inn’s decor was an array of candles, incense, beaded curtains, and lining the walls, artwork depicting every known deity. Within the context of the inn’s name I was greeted by the lady of the house and resident sculpture artist, “Morning Dove Among the Clouds”, and later at the ’community’ dinner I met Morning’s husband, “Marble Hitting the Forest Floor”. Marble, not only the inn’s chef, but spiritual guide to several of the meditation and yoga classes, informed me, everyone just calls him “Butch”.

While not engaging in the many classes and seminars offered, I found the quiet environment and extremely interesting hosts augmented my creative process and I accomplished more artwork than anticipated. Possibly the only low point during my stay came at the weekly evening campfire and Butch’s new recipe for s’mores . Tofu cubes, heated over a fire, topped with carob squares, and placed between two yam-crackers. After I tried the first one, I politely refused a second by a “Thank you, but n’mores”.

Towards the end of the week, busy checking in new arrivals, Morning asked if I would wander up to the Reflection pond and remind Butch it was time to start dinner preparations. Entering a beautiful topiary/sculpture garden I saw Butch, deep in thought, staring into a rectangle shaped pool of crystal clear water . Not wanting to interrupt, I sat opposite the pool and quietly waited.

After a half an hour and still no movement from Butch, I got out the camera and took this picture. Maybe it the click of the shutter, the chirp of a nearby bird, or a slight wind enhanced ripple in the water, but Butch suddenly looked up, a little startled but seemingly delighted by my presence. Sensing an opportunity for a fresh insightful opinion, he recounted a perplexing problem that was weighting heavily on his mind. After picking a flower for Morning, he inadvertently knocked a spherical limb off Morning’s newly created grouping of sculptures. “I’ve tried fixing it to no avail and then, resorted to pondering excuses and stories of how it happened-a strong wind, a lightning bolt, a rogue alligator swishing his tail. I don’t know what to do and have been here for hours trying to resolve my dilemma”.

“Any suggestions?”

The Truth, you’re always talking about seeking the truth, well, tell her the truth, was my suggestion.

Back at the inn, holding out the broken piece with a downward gaze, he told her, and his head lifted when she related she was well aware of the potential problem. She was working on a doweling system and would rework all the spherical limbs. She was glad Butch had let her know. Even gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

Butch turned and silently mouthed a thank you in my direction.

Speaking of truth, I then mentioned to Butch my thoughts on his s’mores. I like yams and I don’t mind tofu in certain dishes and I loved all the meals you prepared but I think your recipe for s’mores should be reconsidered.  He laughed, and told me he had received quite a few anonymous notes in the suggestion box echoing my sentiments and later today he would be placing an order for marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis.

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 28

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But the Map Says....

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 28: “But the Map Says….”

 

From Ohio, I stopped at a Bed &Breakfast in North Tonawanda, NY, 13 miles south of Niagara Falls.

By weeks end, on Friday, I was sitting on the front porch of the inn when a passenger van, with secured rowboat atop, approached the B&B. Instead of stopping it moseyed pass and parked several houses down. With six gentlemen exiting the van, I could just make out their animated discussion involving which house was the B&B. The driver, quiet, seemed to wait patiently for a resolution, while four of remaining five insisted they were at the B&B. The last of the six, holding the Inn’s emailed directions, was pointing back towards the Inn. The four wouldn’t listen and made their way to the front door and were consequently directed, by the owner, to the same place their colleague had pointed.

As they checked into the B&B, I learned that they were six buddies on a trip without the wives, intent on a rip-roaring guys-only good time. I sensed an interesting weekend ahead.

For dinner, they decided on one of the Inn’s recommended restaurants and the same four were adamant that clearly by the restaurant’s name, Antero’s, Italian food was offered. The driver, Marco, offered no opinion and the sixth, Enzo, noticing no Italian dishes listed on the Inn’s sample menu, mentioned  “but the Menu reads….” to no avail. They left. Thirty minutes later they returned to the inn, rechecked the Inn’s sample menu’s and found a restaurant that served Italian. Antero’s was Finnish.

The next morning, sitting on the porch, the topic of heading to Grand Island developed into similar discussions I had witnessed yesterday. The same four, spearheaded by Theo, insisted the island was East, Marco, again silent of any input, and Enzo, with a tourist brochure in hand tried to persuade his friends to head West. Overruled, they piled into the van and headed East. Within 15 minutes, I noticed the van retracing its route, now heading West.

That evening was the planned boat ride under the stars. They asked if I would be the designated driver, taking them to launch the boat and drive down river to retrieve them.

Dropping them off, the same argument transpired with Enzo, map in hand, trying to tell them they were too far up river. They claimed, again with no feedback from Marco, they were down river from the falls and eased the boat into the water.

Not twenty minutes into driving, I noticed a series of smaller waterfalls and rapids to my left and further downstream, the American side of Niagara Falls. I pulled over and could just see their boat, making it’s way to the edge of the first line of waterfalls. Too far away to verbally warn them, I quickly called 911, then I got out my camera and attached my long lens to keep them in sight. As I took this picture, I could make out the same scenario taking place. Theo and the other three insisting by their calculations that the emanating sounds of the ‘falls’ were behind them and therefore maintain course. Marco rowing, nervously mute, going with the flow. In the back of the boat was Enzo, map spread out, dimly illuminated by a flashlight, still asserting “But the Map says…”.

Sirens sounded of approaching rescue vehicles and the whirl of rotors overhead signaled a helicopter was zeroing in. The first set of falls, a preamble of the rapids and looming larger falls, offered a seven foot downward plunge. They went over. Capsized, Enzo and the others managed to swim to a protruding isolated rock while a now empty boat floated to an unfortunate end. After their rescue, still wet, embarrassed, and minus a boat, I drove them back to the inn.

The next morning while they were preparing to leave, Theo and the others mentioned they wanted to at least stop at the Finger Lakes region before heading home and all, in unison, turned  towards Enzo and asked with humbled voices “Which way should we go?”.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis.

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 27

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Bowling

 

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 27: Bowling

Heading south from St. Ignace, Michigan on Route 75, I arrived at a wonderful little Bed & Breakfast in Bowling Green, Ohio. The week progressed by becoming very good friends with innkeepers, Nancy and Jake, and at weeks end they invited me to join them for bowling Saturday night.

Saturday night’s bowling was not a league but by the number of friends and acquaintances that arrived and divided into friendly 5 person teams, it certainly had a league feel. I, tagging along with Jake and Nancy, was included on their team. As with most bowling jaunts I’m accustom to, everyone usually bowls two to three games/sets and this night was a three gamer.

During the third and final set, our team started out the first three frames with either strikes, spares, or open frames with no discernible difference from the first two games. It was the completion of Frame Four that drew our attention to Jake’s fourth consecutive strike and while being no slouch to bowling, this was still a first for him. When Jake rolled another strike in the fifth frame, customary strike/spare high fives displayed an added dose of enthusiasm .

Jake’s strike in Frame Six drew some rubber-necking attention from the neighboring lanes and an attentive hush overtook our team as he took the boards and rolled a strike in the seventh frame. Whispers spread of the looming possibly of a perfect game and ‘waiting their turn’ idle bowlers gravitated to watch as Jake rolled a strike in Frame Eight. As Jake readied for the ninth frame the other lanes now noticeably paused. As the pins were hit, one last pin unnervingly teetered, inciting  a bit of drama, then as it finally fell, strike nine fueled more high fives and cheers from the growing crowd.

As Jake approached the boards for Frame Ten, he was now three strikes away from a perfect game. Quiet spread around the entire Bowling Alley, first ball, a strike, and silence held. As soon as the pins were reset and Jake toweled down his returned ball, he settled into his oft repeated stance. With the second strike, a tense concentrated silence remained intact , and again Jake picked up the returned ball and inhaling deeply he positioned himself for the final roll.

I took this picture just as Jake was releasing the ball and by the burst of light from the flash, I realized my finger had mistakenly moved the flash button to “on”. The flash startled Jake, his hand did a twist and the ball rolled to the right and into the gutter as did the hopes and dreams of his perfect game.

Besides the crushing look of disappointment on Jake’s face, there were a lot of angry bowlers. Calls for me to be strung up from the highest beam, throw me down the lane to see if they could get a strike with my head, or cart me off to the nearby zoo and feed me to the alligators, were some of the friendlier suggestions. I have never felt as bad in my entire life as I did then, but Jake, as a friend, interceded, quickly stepping between me and fifty or so angry blowers.

A certain calmness was restored but not the pained feelings I now harbored.

Several of Jake’s friends and a few other prominent bowlers got together and discussed how this should be resolved. They decided, since this wasn’t league nor TV fanfare, and the “Flash”, no different an interruption as a loose board popping up or falling ceiling tile to disrupt a throw, they weren’t opposed to a one-roll do-over, but there was a stipulation. If Jake didn’t roll a strike for the 300 game, I was on the hook to buy everyone on our team an in-house dinner and drinks.

Jake rolled the final strike to the sound of an uproarious audience of bowlers as he got his first ever perfect game.

Still feeling remorseful, I offered to still pick up the tab for a round of food and drinks which was readily accepted. By the first bite, the fast-becoming memorable story now elicited several laughs, allowing my mood to ease up a little. A few fellow bowlers walked over and presented me with a trench coat and was playfully instructed “but no flashing”.

I smiled, funny guys, these bowlers.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis.

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 26

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Basketball Plant

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 26: Basketball Plant

 

From Chicago, I meandered North for two days before arriving at a Bed & Breakfast in St. Ignace, Michigan overlooking Lake Huron.

As I stepped onto the porch of the B&B I noticed two basketballs and my initial thought was the innkeepers had children. Walking into the lobby/living room I noticed several more basketballs, some resting on chairs and a velveteen couch. My second thought, Basketball fanatics I supposed, and at that thought, I heard a loud trump on the wall coming from the opposite room.

Before I had a chance to ponder the source of the noise, innkeepers, Carmela and Jordan walked in and after extending a warm greeting, showed me to my room. True to form, in the room were two more basketballs for which Carmela apologized and removed without any forthcoming explanation.

At breakfast, eyeing another basketball in the corner of the dining room, curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask about all the basketballs. Carmela, anticipating the request, fixed a cup of coffee and sat down to relate the following story:

 

“Three years ago at a small garden shop in Chamberlain, South Dakota, Jordan and I bought a small unusual plant tucked away on a shelf, out of sunlight, and wilting very badly. Once back at our place, we re-potted the plant, watered it, and placing it in full sun at a living room window, it immediately revived. Like magic, the rejuvenated plant grew and several days later developed a center stem that started to form a bud. As the bud opened to flower, to our amazement, a basketball, we also noticed two hands started to emerge from the soil.

Four days later, with the basketball reaching regulation size and us attending to an issue in another room, we heard the sound of glass breaking. Quickly we ran in to find the plant, minus a basketball, the front window with a large hole, and the ball resting on the front lawn.

Mystified, we fixed the window and by week’s end, after another basketball bloomed, we happened to be in the room when the plant arched back and tossed the basketball just over the outstretched hands and through the front window again.

Well, we couldn’t let this happen a third time, so Jordan moved the plant to an adjacent wall. Five days later we witnessed the same scenario but this time the outstretched hands managed to block the shot and it flew backwards onto the coffee table knocking over a vase of flowers.

Relocating the plant to a sparsely decorated spare room, Jordan, with a sense of wry humor, decided to mount a basket to the wall, purchased a whistle, taped a foul line on the floor, and named the plant Julius and the hands, Larry. The only drawback has been, even with giving away all the basketballs friends, guests, and schools would accept, they still keep accumulating.”

 

By weeks end, Jordan, now attuned to that window of opportunity when the basketball might be thrown, made me aware a shot was on the verge and offered a chair to watch. I took this picture just as Julius arched back for the throw. I watched as the ball sailed towards the basket, hit the rim, and rolled around twice before dropping in for the score. Larry, just missing blocking the ball by less than an inch, snapped his fingers in mock frustration and then semi-relaxed with the anticipation of another future chance.

This morning while leaving, Carmela and Jordan bid me farewell and not surprisingly, offered me a basketball or two, or four. I willingly took two, promising I would give them to my grand-kids when I arrived at Ukazoo.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis .

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 25

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The Cap

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 25: “The Cap”

Reaching a crossroads, after leaving Minnesota on my journey to Ukazoo, where the plan was to turn North, I took a second to consider an opportunity to visit Chicago. A “second” was all that was needed, turning South, I made my way to the “Windy City”.

Spending this past week taking in Galleries, Museums, some live music and a play, I concluded my visit by joining several guests from the B&B and went to a poetry recital. The evening’s featured author was a tall slender woman named Mya, whose melodious voice, recounting family, life’s affirmations, and recent personal triumphs, flowed throughout the dimly lit room like a gentle insightful song.

Prior to her final poem, Mya paused to reflect on the warmness she felt tonight with returning to her hometown after 17 years. As such, she found it appropriate to close with a touch of levity, by reciting a poem she wrote, then as a teenager, just weeks before leaving Chicago.

I took this photo just as she softly announced the title, “Wind O Wind”, then put the camera down and listened with a smile to the following poem.

Wind O Wind, you came through the bedroom window.

You blew so hard, blew so strong,

You blew so unbelievably long.

With a gust, off went my cap covering my hairs,

You sent it sailing down a flight of stairs.

I chased it down the hallway and into rooms

While I tried to swat it down waving a broom.

I ran after it frantically for what seemed like hours,

Past chairs, lamps, and tables holding vases of flowers.

You sent it through the kitchen, barely missing a pie,

Out an open window and high into the sky.

Nearly missing Ravens, Flinches, and a Purple Martin,

Downward it turned heading into the garden.

In between potatoes, tomatoes, corn, and beets,

Along bricked pathways, sidewalks and streets.

You made my cap twist around buildings, and a very tall steeple,

Then it descended, just above hands of helpful people.

Tenuously sending it across a quiet road,

You paused for a breath, and it landed on a toad.

As I closed in to make a lunge for my cap,

I felt an intake of air rush down my back.

Your breath started up again, stronger then ever,

You quickly decided to be very clever.

Up again it went, out of my reach,

Outwards past a crowded, sandy beach.

You made it flip,dip, and drop towards the sea

‘Stop, stop, don’t let it get wet” was my desperate plea.

At that moment, a hesitation, I didn’t foresee,

either by my words, or maybe you tried of playing with me.

You sent it back up, into the sky instead

and gently lowered it down, onto my head.

During the closing reception, I purchased one of the few remaining copies of her first, and now out of print, book, “Mya’s Poems for a Smile” which she graciously signed. This morning, now packed and ready to “for sure” head North, I can detect the whispering of  Mya’s Poems ready to accompany me on my journey to Ukazoo. Hope to meet her again someday.

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

New arrivals to the “Journey” please see Slide One for a brief synopsis .

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 24

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Pipe & Peel

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 24: “Pipe & Peel”

 

Starting with the first evening’s stay at a Bed & Breakfast in Pipestone, Minnesota, myself and the other guests, when sitting outside, were treated to the faint sounds of hammering, sawing and the back and forth banter of four teenagers next door.

Tim and Tina, the next door neighbors and close friends of the innkeepers, whose house the sounds were originating from, stopped in yesterday for an during-breakfast coffee. Tim explained, it was his son, Tommy and his friends, Harry, David, and Virginia, who had been busy all week, working to put on a little neighborhood talent show in their backyard tomorrow and we, to our pleasant surprise, were all invited.

On Sunday, with a clear warm day in the making, we walked over for the show.

Harry, supplied the announcements and back up music/drum rolls with his one-guy bottle band.

Virginia, Tommy’s girlfriend and first act, performed some splendid magic tricks. Next was David, who did a juggling act using his mom’s spare set of dishes, of which he didn’t break a single dish. Okay, okay, they were plastic and he did drop two, but nonetheless he was still very impressive.

For the finale, Tommy, sporting a set of rollerblades, began his performance with several freestyle inline skating tricks. Next, he switched from a 72mm wheel he used for freestyle to a flatter surface 54mm wheel, modified, by him and his dad, with a slight indentation in each edge to barely shoulder a series of different diameter pipes. With the pipes set about 3 inches off the ground, he skated across each one effortlessly to rounds of applause.

During a 5 minute “set-up” intermission, Harry played a rather catchy rendition of the “Who’s” ”Tommy” on the bottles while David and Virginia raised the smallest diameter pipe up into the slots of two slender weighted down wood boxes placed off to the sides of the yard. The pipe was now four feet above the ground.

Then as Harry started a drum roll on the bottles, Tommy climbed a step ladder to the elevated pipe. Quiet spread across the yard and at Harry’s last bottle tap, Tommy started across the stationary 10’ length of pipe.

He did it!

Without hesitating at the applause, Tommy turned to face the opposite direction while David quickly walked over to drape a banana peel towards the far end of the pipe.

If we thought it was quiet before, this ensuing silence was unnerving. His parents, with teetering confidence at never seeing him attempt anything like this, clenched the arms of their chairs.

The drum roll started again and as before, at the last tap from Harry, Tommy started to skate across the pipe. As he approached the banana peel, all sense of time and place was reduced to slow motion. His balance impeccable, his eyes focused, calculating the distance and exact moment to slightly bend the knee to gain just enough push and lift.

I took this picture as he was within several inches of the peel. In the next extended second, with the sudden intake of the crowds collected breath, he elevated, only a few inches, but enough to clear the raised end of the peel. Once over, he touched down onto the pipe with a graceful elegance that brought everyone to their feet cheering.

Once on the ground and the congratulations to Tommy and his friends tapering off, he eased over to the food and drinks and there awaiting him was the banana, minus its skin, ready to be sliced and added to three scoops of ice cream for his favorite treat, a banana split.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 23

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Dancers

 

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 23: “The Dancer’s”

 

After I left Sheridan, Wyoming, my next stop was Steele, North Dakota. The drive, over 550 miles took 11 hours, which included a couple of rest-stops and one traffic tie-up that involved removing a dump truck that veered into a ditch to avoid hitting a deer.

Both driver and deer, were all right.

Inching towards midnight on extended dark stretches of empty highway, I stopped into a dimly lit two pump gas station just before they closed. At the register, to pay for gas and a few snacks, I asked, “I’m close to Steele, right?” With all the enthusiasm a “Doing a double shift, I’ve been here too long” clerk could muster, all I received was a half nod of confirmation.

Having called ahead for reservations at a Bed and Breakfast, and aware of my late arrival time, I found a note with directions to my room, signed “see you in the morning”.

At breakfast, I met the hosts, Leo and Denise, and their daughter, Lyn. The instant friendship that developed with this family and several other people I met as the week progressed, took on an uncanny familiarity of close friends in Baltimore.

The following day, making a scenic stop, I encountered several artists engaged in a Plein-air painting class. As with Leo and Denise, friendships easily formed and I was informed of a small art show they were hosting that evening. Being a fellow artist, I looked forward to attending.

Wonderful people, engaging art, and throughout the evening the sense of déjà vu.

The following day, while replenishing art materials at a local craft store, I met Matt and Larine, and again it was that familiarity of friends I’ve known for years. Amid laughs and exchanging stories, they insisted I come to a Halloween/Karaoke party they and several of their friends were sponsoring at a local pub. With Matt having an extra costume that only needed a few adjustments to fit me, I willingly joined them to meet a great group of friends sporting for an impressive array of costumes, marvelous singing, and still that continued sense of déjà vu swirling around.

Not catching my breath, the next evening was Leo’s birthday, at least it was a few days ago, and this was their first chance to celebrate. Becoming, now, good friends, they asked if I would care to join them and several guests at a VA hall, featuring a top notch Blues/Rock band. Of course!

At the Hall, as friends traded past birthday stories and their birthday dates, it was learned that mine was just around the corner and I was just eight days younger than Leo. With the Birthday cake candles, a now faint puff of smoke and a chorus of Happy Birthday for Leo sung, the band started up.

At first, Leo seemed content to sit and listen to the music and trade stories of youthful adventures but with the pleas from Denise he finally gave in joined Denise on the Dance floor.

As the band launched into a very funky extended set of blues tunes, I took this picture as Leo and Denise got into some serious dancing and by the end of the night the only way to now stop Leo from dancing was the band ending their night of playing.

I had a great, yet again, strangely familiar time, and even got in a fair amount of dancing myself.

Today while departing, I gave a sigh, as the past few days have reminded me of friends back home I’ve missed and how good it will be to see them again, once I get to Ukazoo.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 22

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Do You Want a Marble

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 22: Do You Want a Marble

 

From the moment the first kids ran out the door, laughing and screaming as I made my way in, I knew I was in for an interesting stay at Leighton’s Bed & Breakfast in Sheridan, Wyoming.

The majority of the rooms were rented by three related families here for a reunion. Their children, seven in all, seemed more content to spend most of the next three days in the B&B’s spacious back yard playing rather than engaged in sightseeing with their parents.

Of the two rooms left, I took one and the other room, a suite, was rented to a family with just one son, Nori, who by contrast, was extremely shy and content to spend his time alone with his books.

Spending the first morning after breakfast, relaxing on the back porch with tea and a sketchbook, the kids were engaged in a game I hadn’t seen since my younger days, a long, long, long time ago. Marbles.

Lance, the older of the kids, was the principal marble player and was rather good at it.

During the Inn’s afternoon treats, set out by the Leighton’s, the subject of marbles came up. Nori, who had frequently glanced over his book to watch their marble playing, now quietly inched his way closer to the conversation. Lance brought out his “traveling” marble collection. There were the standards, Cat’s eyes, Clearies, Aggies, Tigers, Oilie’s and various larger Bowlers and Steelies. He also had a small wood box that housed his special “never to be played” marbles. Of those, two glass Bowler’s were very rare.

One was a clear glass German made “Sulphide”, encasing a small hand carved ivory alligator, and the other, made in Ohio in the early 1900’s, had a solid color of deep maroon, speckled with hints of copper, giving it a look and feel of stone. Both beautiful to gaze into.

With Nori, book in tow, now next to us infatuated with the marbles, Lance, looking up, suddenly changed the subject and inquired about the book Nori was reading. Without a word, he held out an advanced math book. Lance, continuing to initiate the conversation, told Nori that Math was his worst subject in school, he just couldn’t find a way to comprehend it.

Lance made Nori a deal, he would show him how to play marbles in return for some pointers on how to figure out the Algebra, Geometry and maybe even a little Trig. Nori, uncomfortable with this sudden social contact, reluctantly agreed.

During the second and third day, Nori slowly became actively engaged in the marble games and at one point shared a laugh much to the delight of the younger kids. In the evenings, he and Lance sat at the dining room table, scrap paper galore, engaged in pouring over math equations and different strategies.

Today, the fourth day, was departure time and with packing of the vehicles in full progress, Lance approached Nori, and opening his marble box took out the maroon/copper glass bowler.

With camera at hand, I took this picture as Lance handed Nori the rare marble as a parting gift, not just, Lance explained, for all his help with the math but for becoming a friend.

Nori, overwhelmed by this rare opportunity at friendship, gave assurances he would always be available by call or email to help with any math issues that may arise or just to chat.

A touching moment to say the least.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

 

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 21

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21FullSize

 

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 21 Painting the Flower Deity

 

Arrived in Missoula, Montana to find a wonderful Bed & Breakfast run by Martha and Mitch. The interior of their house was as captivating as the outside except for the living room, which was vacant of all furniture and sealed off with a sheet of plastic.

After unpacking I joined newly arrived guests, Mary and Matthew, along with our hosts, in the dining room to get acquainted and partake in the afternoon refreshments Martha had set out. It didn’t take long for the conversation to drift to the “in progress” living room.

A seemingly testy subject prompted a “lets take a drive” from our hosts, while they would tell us the story of the living room and how it relates to a statue they was taking us to see.

In route, Mitch related the story of an older gentleman named Maurice Montbretia, who had hit the Mega Millions lottery two years ago. The newly acquired wealth, in itself, wasn’t an issue as Maurice spent the better part of his life eking out a living tending other peoples gardens.

Maurice loved flowers, grew flowers, read about flowers, and had managed on his meager earnings to build a small greenhouse. Now, with all this money and no family to speak of , he decided he would purchase a fair size piece of property to build a monument, his ode to flowers. Started a year and a half ago, this lofty project was now nearing completion.

Mitch continued, that three weeks ago just as they were ready to paint their living room a deep shade of Blue, just as their neighbors Margaret and Mark were ready to paint their addition a light Blue, Malinda and Morris about to paint their store front a special mix Violet, and Melvin and his son, Martin, were about to repaint their Barbershop pole, we couldn’t find a can of blue paint in the whole town, nor in several outlining communities.

Puzzled, our quest to find the source of this paint shortage led us to Maurice.

As we neared the turnoff to Mountain Mills Road, and the location of the statue, we found traffic backed up due to deliveries.  Mitch detoured to Murray Marconi’s adjacent farm and with permission, we hiked across the fields. As we approached the construction site we could only look in wonder at the size of the statue.

I took this picture of the work in progress. The final red “puzzle” shaped designs being attached and the blue paint applied by a small workforce manning a scaffolding system that at one point must have reached the clouds. I was equally impressed with the holographic projection system creating a circular receding phase of the statues face, which I was told was particularly effective at night and on overcast days.

Maurice, engaged in the supervising, turned, and seeing us, waved us in. While treating us to a hot dog and soda from “Mean Mike”, an onsite vendor, Maurice, having become aware of this paint storage, used the opportunity to apologize to Martha and Mitch. Becoming self adsorbed, Maurice explained, and succumbing to excesses, encouraged by all this newly acquired money, he lost sight of the effects on friends and community, and this morning placed a special rush order for those paints to be delivered directly to all those in need. He would also pick up the tab for the inconvenience he had caused.

With everyone back in good spirits, I made my way over for another “Mean Mike’s” Hot Dog. They were very good and between you and me, Mike wasn’t mean at all.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

 

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 20

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Caterpillar

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 20: Caterpillar

 

Aware of the direction of my Journey, the Ranger at Cape Disappointment recommended a Nature Observation site deep in the Idaho Panhandle National Forest that specialized in finding rare Arthropods.

Making my way deep into the forest on unimproved roads with only the ranger’s hand drawn map, I arrived at a very modern but environmentally designed series of buildings tucked away in a small stream fed valley. While not an advertised tourist spot, the resident park personnel welcomed the occasional visitor that went out of their way to find this place.

After spending a very full day of extremely informative discussions, walks, and viewing collections of unique and rare species, they expressed a concern about the difficulty navigating the forest roads back to town in the darkness and offered a spare bed to spend the night.

Before turning in, we sat around an evening campfire and they proceeded to tell me a story of having received several hand delivered letters over the past two weeks. The letters, from an unknown source, outlined the chance to receive for observation via a trade, an extremely rare caterpillar that the park personnel have been trying to capture since the first sighting several months ago.

The trade, “Bob” (the name they applied to the unknown letter writer) proposed, consisted of one case of hand lotion, six pairs of leather work gloves for him and a few friends, and assurances that the caterpillar had to be released once he morphed into a butterfly. Release was critical to the pollination of an equally rare flower that served as an important food source to Bob and his friends. The lotion and gloves, the letters stated, were essential to help ease up on blisters, winter’s split skin and the ‘holding rough hands’ complains from their wives.

With assurances of terms confirmed, the last letter they received two days ago, outlined coordinates to a location to construct a blind, to both observe the capture and complete the trade.

We awoke the next morning to find a letter had arrived, informing them to be at the newly constructed blind within two hours, along with the lotion and gloves. Since I was present, they allowed me to tag along.

Within an hour of occupying the blind we became aware of the caterpillar, dropping down to the end of a thorn covered branch by a silken thread. At that moment out of the shadows of the underbrush emerged a manlike creature with a shell body and no legs. Slowly making his way up the same branch using his hands, we also noticed four tentacles unfurl from the top of the shell, one holding a leaf that perked up the caterpillars attention. Another tentacle dropping down behind his back, held a net.

I took this picture a split second before a very hungry caterpillar made a move for the leaf and with one quick motion snatched up in the net. In a second motion, Bob jumped to the ground and handed the net and caterpillar to the rangers and with no words exchanged, accepted the lotion and gloves and quickly disappeared back into the forest.

Upon my preparing to leave this morning, after spending a second night, I was informed another letter from Bob had arrived. This one, they read, contained thanks for the lotion and gloves for the cold winter ahead and, to everyone’s delight, the hint of one day sharing one of those campfires they have watched from a distance.

 

Art notes:

All images and text are copyright Craig L Haupt

Postings of “Journey to Ukazoo” Slides are every Monday Evening.

Website: http://www.clhaupt.com