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Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 33

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For You My Love, Flowers

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 33-”For You My Love, Flowers”

 

THE INN:

Third stop in Maine. Checked into the Mill Pond Inn in Damariscotta Mills and as with past visits, I was glad to see hosts, Brandy and Billy.

THE FAMILY:

Arriving later in the day, with all the needed earmarked tour books, brochures, lists of family and friends recommendations, and recreational gear, both in and atop their van, was a family of five. The parents, Jack and Myrna, able to coordinate time off from their busy work schedules, were aglow with anticipation of a week spent entirely with their three daughters.

THE GIRLS:

Ages 8 to 12, the girls, wasting no time jumping out of the van, were a bundle of excitement raring to have the time of their lives. All three over talking each other to let us know their plans for the week-Playing, fishing, swimming, playing, boating, sightseeing, playing, biking, and eating lots of lobster. I asked if they mentioned playing.

Jack and Myrna, after checking in, as elated as the girls, started right in with the first suggested activity, a canoe ride. During the week, mom and dad were in constant motion, keeping pace with the girls, and if not directly involved, then sitting nearby to watch. The girls loved it all.

THE MOM:

For Myrna, getting a chance to spend extended time with the girls was heaven, as evenings and weekends back home only afforded short trips. These, intermingled with catching up on everyday chores and getting ready for the start of the next work/school week.

By the fifth day of keeping up with the wants and needs of three very active girls, mom, happily occupied as she was, started to display some wear.

THE DAD:

Jack, as enthusiastic of spending time with the family as Myrna, started out the week fully engaged but with each passing day, Jack inadvertently took up some guy stuff offers. A little golfing, an evening card game with Billy and me, he hadn’t noticed that Myrna never managed a break from the weeks activities with the girls.

It was day five, as Jack, Billy and I wandered in from an early evening fishing jaunt, that Jack spied Myrna sitting in the dining area, chin cupped in hands, looking worn-out after a full day with the girls.

THE FLOWERS:

Becoming acuity aware of his unintentional breaks, Jack motioned Brandy, Billy, and me into the other room. With hushed voice, asked if we would keep Myrna occupied and redirected, if any questions arose, while he took a short trip to town. Jack also asked if we would do a little Babysitting that evening. We could do both.

Hearing the van door close as Jack returned, Myrna, a touch concerned by his latest absence, slowly rose from her seat to greet his return. Jack stepped into the room with flowers in hand.

I took this picture as he gave Myrna a soft caress with the other hand and said, “For you my love, Flowers”. He proceeded to ask if she would go out on a date with him.

Myrna turned in our direction and she was informed that all was prearranged, reservations made, and we would entertain the girls.

A soft smile, a tear, a returned hug and a wait of just 20 minutes to freshen up was her response.

THE NEXT DAY:

Dad took the girls boating on Damariscotta Lake one last time before next morning’s departure, while Myrna relaxed on the back deck with Brandy and a few other guests.

THE NEXT, NEXT DAY:

Van packed, Jack at the steering wheel, and the girls waving goodbyes, Myrna laid the flowers in her lap as they made ready to head home. It was a good week, she said, a very good week.

 

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.

Opening Art Reception, Saturday, March 15th, 2014, 5:00 to 8:00 P.M., at Ukazoo Book Store, Towson, MD

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 32

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Broken Penny Farthing

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 32-”Broken Penny Farthing”

 

Continuing with my second stop of four in Maine, I checked into the Hearthside Bed & Breakfast in the town of Bar Harbor on Mt. Desert Island. Besides working on a couple of small drawings, I plan on doing some biking at the adjoining Acadia National Park.

Within the park’s borders lies “The Carriage Roads”, a network of 51 miles of crushed stone roads divided into 12 interconnecting “Loops”. Catering to walking, biking, horseback riding, and horse drawn carriages, no motor vehicles are allowed on the roads.

As I was unloading my bike, two separate groups of bicyclists arrived and parked on each side of the street. One group, also checking into Hearthside Inn, began unloading their bikes, 11 restored late 19th century Penny Farthings. All the bikes sported 50 to 56 inch diameter front wheels and modified with brakes on the smaller rear wheels. Eugene, the unofficial leader, related, with most of the members, by profession, connected to law enforcement, we call ourselves “The Copper Pennies”.

The second small caravan of similar vehicles arrived at the B&B Inn across the street with numerous “regular” gear-driven Ten-speed bikes perched on racks. Appropriately, by decals on  bumpers and windshields, they proclaimed themselves “The Gearheads”

I milled the perimeter as both groups converged, checking each others bikes. As compliments mixed with technical talk, biking stories, and touring the Carriage Roads, the friendly banter initiated a lighthearted wager in the form of a race.

Taking into account the pro’s and con’s of both styles of bikes, a handicap was agreed to. Looking over the map, the Gearheads, led by James, agreed to bike Loop 12 (11.1 Miles) and the connecting Loop 4 (8.6 Miles) would be biked by Eugene and the Copper Pennies. The start/finish would be the Deer Brook stone bridge, located on the connecting section, and in case the finish was close they would enlist a neutral party to declare the winner.

With that, both groups turned in my direction. I agreed.

The following day at the Carriage Roads, on a brisk sun-filled morning, both groups gathered, with the “Gears” facing North and the “Coppers” facing South at the North end of the Bridge. With my shout, they began.

An hour an a half later, it was the whoops and laughter of Eugene and James, out in front, approaching from opposite directions, that brought me to attention and I readied the camera to record the finish. Realizing it would indeed be a close finish, they shouted encouragement and urgings to those close behind, and picking up speed, bore down for the finish at the South end of the bridge.

Now, maybe, if the rabbit that scampered up onto the road’s edge across from me, had waited 30 seconds before deciding this side of the road was the “greener pasture”, harmony and a good natured resolution among bikers may have ruled the day.

My warning was, for the most part, useless, as were their brakes at the suddenness of the potential circumstances. Both Eugene and James, seeing the rabbit dart directly in front of their merging paths, veered, mistakenly into each other, with two other bikers close behind.

At five feet above the ground, an abrupt stop, launching the rider forward head first, called a “Header” is the most dangerous aspect of riding a Penny Farthing.

Taking this picture at impact, Eugene, instinctively, took his feet off the pedals, leaned back, and brought his legs and feet up over the handle bars, so he was pitched off the bike feet-first rather than head-first. An old written solution he had never had the occasion to use until today.

When the dust cleared, without a doubt, the most amazing thing was the lack of serious injury and of damage to the bikes other than Eugene’s Penny Farthing’s front wheel separating from the frame.

A safe unaware rabbit, several band-aids, needed replacement parts back at the Parking lot, an assurance that everyone received a photo of the crash, and an agreed upon “Tie” put everyone back in fine spirits.

 

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.

Opening Art Reception, Saturday, March 15th, 2014, 5:00 to 8:00 P.M., at Ukazoo Book Store, Towson, MD

 

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 31

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On the Pier

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 31-”On the Pier”

After an overnight stop to break up a 13 hour drive, I arrived at Belgrade Lakes, Maine.

Belgrade Lakes is located between two large lakes, Great Pond to the East and, connected by an inlet ending in a narrow spillway, Long Pond to the West. The village of Belgrade Lakes and Wings Hill Inn, the inn I checked into, face Long Pond.

During the morning of my first full day, with sketchbook in hand, I walked from the inn, to a small park on the banks of Long Pond next to the spillway. Opposite the spillway are a grouping of weekly rented cabins, each with their own weathered wood pier extending, like fingers, onto the lake. The cabin closest to the spillway was newly occupied by a family of six, two parents and their four children of various ages.

Relaxing to the gentle lapping of waves I couldn’t help but overhear the parents relaying directions, tips, and mounds of information to the kids regarding the art of fishing. On the pier with lines cast, it wasn’t long before the next to youngest screamed out in excitement that she had one hooked. With minimal parental assistance she reeled the fish in, unhooked it and dropped her catch into the holding bucket. Shortly, the two older boys saw their red and white bobs dip below the surface and following suit, unhooked fish went into the bucket. Over the next hour or so, the same three managed to catch at least one more fish apiece.

Lost in their success, however, was the youngest of the four had not entertained so much as a nibble.

As the long morning of fishing ended, mom and dad offered assurances to the youngest of possibly catching one tomorrow.

Returning each morning to the park over the following four days, I occasionally watched the parents and the three oldest continue to catch varying counts of fish, and each day the youngest was the only one to walk away empty handed. Dejection was evident but anger, crying, feet stamping, “not fair” never was an emotion I detected and each day he was just as willing to quietly try again.

At weeks end, I noticed the beginnings of packing so it was apparent today was the last day the youngest would get a chance to catch a fish.

Sitting at the park, I noticed an unusual scenario unfolding. With the older kids engaged in other activities, the parents of the youngest, as during the preceding days, set up the fishing gear, pole, worms, etc. As mom helped ready the hook for her son and offered words of encouragement as the line was cast in the water, dad quietly slipped away. Making his way to the park side, close to where I sat, using the reeds and cattails at water’s edge to conceal his presence, he sat and waited patiently, relating what I had already deducted. Giving his youngest son as much an opportunity to catch a fish on his own, he would tip the scales for a moment of success if needed.

As morning waned, sensing a need to finally intercede, “Dad” donned rented scuba gear,  readied a fish he had in a water-filled container as his son’s final cast hit the water, and slowly, still out of slight, he eased into the water.

I took this picture as “Dad” made his way to the fishing line and was about to place the fish on the hook.

Completing his task, he gave the line a slight tug. Feeling the bob pull beneath the water, his son, all smiles, reeled in his first ever caught fish.

As mom and son, arm in arm, walked along the pier back to the lawn, he half turned in the parks direction, where dad, still concealed, was slowly climbing out of the water, and said “Thanks mom and (displaying a wink and raising his voice a notch) I don’t see him, but also thank you Dad”.

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.

Opening Art Reception, Saturday, March 15th, 2014, 5:00 to 8:00 P.M., at Ukazoo Book Store, Towson, MD

Journey to Ukazoo-Slide 30

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Strolling Lawn Vases

Journey to Ukazoo

Slide 30: “Strolling Lawn Vases”

With Passport in hand I crossed the Border into Canada. By Wednesday, I made my way to an Inn in Saguenay, Quebec. I was offered advice from a recent acquaintance to brush up on my French, qui, heureusement, je l’ai fait (which, fortunately, I have done so).

On Thursday a delightful group of fellow artists from the U.S. checked in and I was invited to join them for a day of art activities and an evening of pleasant conversations by the fireplace.

Yesterday, the day before I was to depart for Maine, I spotted an excellent mystery book in the B&B’s Library. With only one full day to read it, I resigned myself to the front porch to start and finish the story before my head hit the pillow later that night. Engaged in the “who-done-it”, I was periodically aware of a procession of activity in front of the inn. I did take one picture of Three Strolling Vases and noted the rest on an index card. And this is what I saw.

On my first completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  An alligator beside a Maple tree.

There he sat, with fork and knife, staring at me.

On my second completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  2 Running Shoes.

Searching left and right for a couple of feet before turning into a       yard.

On my third completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  3 Strolling Vases.

Out for some shopping, and afterwards a well deserved drink.

On my fourth completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  4 Calling Cards.

Signaling they were roaming the area for a phone.

On my fifth completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  5 Spelling Bees’.

Looking to wheel and deal before buying a vowel.

On my sixth completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  6 Walking Sticks.

Discussing politicians, who sought their unwavering support.

On my seventh completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  7 Jumping Beans.

Even wearing heavy coats, they looked a little chilly.

On my eight completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  8 Smoking Jackets.

Reading posted warning signs of dangers ahead.

On my ninth completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  9 Butterflies flying.

Spreading out, they melted away into the sunset.

On my tenth completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  10 Leaping Lizards.

Ecstatic, over someone finally adopting a little Ann Arbor girl.

On my eleventh completed chapter, I just looked up to see,

  11 Wandering Radio Waves.

Creating a soft breeze with their frequency.

On my twelfth and final chapter, I just looked up to see,

  12 Mummers strumming.

Brilliantly in unison,  practicing for an upcoming New Years Day Parade.

Today, as I leave to continue my journey to Ukazoo, I make sure I wish all a Merry Christmas and a Wonderful Holiday season. As for the Alligator, he was satisfied with the 1/2 a ham sandwich, potato salad, and chocolate chip cookies I shared with him.

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.

Opening Art Reception, Saturday, March 15th, 2014, 5:00 to 8:00 P.M., at Ukazoo Book Store Towson, MD

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.