Secret Colours and Angry Skies

Posted in On Tthe Road on April 29th, 2011 by MadDog
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Once again, a schedule much busier than I imagined possible and a couple of bad days have kept me off of my soapbox for longer than I like. I was on a roll there for a while but allowed myself to be derailed. I have some news and a few random amusements to unload on you today. Fasten your seat belts, kiddies.

If you happen to have read my post from a couple of weeks ago in which I mentioned the possibility of a health problem, let me tell you that you can forget it. It was nothing. My host, Steve, arranged for me to go to see a doctor, a family member.  The test result was negative. One less thing, eh? I’m even more relieved than I imagined I would be. I should mention that this cost me nothing. I’ve been on the receiving end of a lot of generosity lately.

It was also arranged by Steve that I would go to an optometrist for an exam and new glasses. I was dreading this, as it usually ends up costing me at least US$500. Free! Again! I will get a nice pair of titanium framed glasses with magnetic shades and my eyesight corrected to 20/20 for the first time.

A few nights ago millions of Americans were hunkered down close to a TV listening to moment-by-moment reports from people being pounded by the weather, wondering if they were next. I heard a snippet of news the day after that there were 150 tornadoes reported on that night. My friend and hostess Marta called me down to see this image of a radar hook echo blasting down Interstate 74 towards Brownsburg. I don’t know if the supercell produced a tornado:

A huge tornado hit Tuscaloosa, Alabama. You can see a video clip here. Very scary!

I went outside to see if I could see any of the classic signals of an impending tornado, such as mamatus clouds, roll clouds or the “green sky“. It did look threatening, but I saw none of the really scary signs:

I took a couple of shots anyway.

The evening passed with no tornadoes close to me, but many suffered the worst night of their lives. Several hundred people have lost their lives in this stormy month of April.

One to a lighter subject, I visited one of my former institutions of so-called higher learning, Butler University. I have not lived up the the expectations of the graduates of that august university, the most important of which is that you earn huge stinking piles of money. I simply laugh when they send me solicitations for contributions. I visited Holcolmb Gardens for about the millionth time:

In the garden is a charming bronze of Perserphone, the goddess of vegetation. I always thought that she looks as if she is bored. There is a funny story regarding fraternity boys and prominent parts of the bronze’s anatomy. I will not tell it here, but rather leave it to your imagination. I will give you a small hint by disclosing that the story contains a reference to a can of Brasso polish.

This is Steve, my host, inside of a construction the purpose of which I will let you guess:

No, it is not a play-house. Come to think of it, maybe it is, but not for children.

During Steve’s latest adventure out in the woods (a hint) involving the use of the mystery object above, he and his friends discovered a treasure trove of morel mushrooms:

These appear to be giants to me. I’ve had no contact with morels since I was a child when my father hunted for them. I remember him making a delicious pancakes containing huge slabs of morel.

Patience – I am winding down now. I’m going to be gone from Brownsburg for a couple of days, so I may be absent for a while again. Yesterday I found myself on 10th Street in Indianapolis with my cousin, Jack, who had taken a day off to haul me around and entertain me. I’ll tell more about that later, perhaps. My eye was caught by this photographically dull, but thought provoking image:

A less disturbed person might pass by here and notice nothing. I saw Ghost Houses. Leave it to me to make a mountain out of a molehill. Still, every one of these forlorn little stairways once led to a humble abode where humans lived out their lives. I count six of them.

Along the canal beside the garden I mention above grows a brushy scrub forest area which is springing to life after a hard winter. I spied a bit of colour from the little bridge over the canal and crossed over to make my way down to the water line. There I found this tree expressing itself with all its might:

It is, to me, a happy image of renewal. I gave it all my care to prepare it for display. Secret Colours won’t hang in any gallery, but it calms me.


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