Music & More

 

On a typical Tuesday summer evening, there may be music on the County Line. But the music will likely be on the tractor radio as Randy makes another round in the field.

There may be flowers. But they will be the wildflowers along the ditches or in the pastures as I take another meal to the field.

But this Tuesday, we had "high class" music and flowers. Randy had a Kansas Wheat meeting in Wichita on Tuesday and Wednesday. After his first day of meetings, we went to Botanica's Tuesday on the Terrace.

We weren't the only ones there for music and flowers. Besides all the people sitting around and listening to the band, Tim Jonas & the Whiskey Militia, we saw a photographer taking senior portraits of a girl.

We took "senior" portraits, too. (It depends on the definition of senior citizens. The guy I was with will qualify sooner than I will.)

We sat and listened to the band for an hour. But then I wanted to wander the gardens during the second hour of the event.

With the shady venue, I may have waited too long to get optimal photos. But, then again, there were some golden moments during the golden hour after all.

The colors of this delicate flower could mimic the sunset, though the shade trees kept most of the evening sky hidden from view in the gardens.

But the golden rays from the setting sun did tinge several scenes with diffused light.

This pioneer woman seemed to be gathering flowers in her basket before dark.

Even as the sun went down, it was hot and humid. FYI: The flowers wilted less than we did.

Peekaboo Flowers

Sometimes, I get blinded by the road before me. I'm hurrying to the next thing - whether that's picking up someone from the field or getting to town for a meeting. The dotted lines down the center of the blacktop can be hypnotizing - churning away the miles to get me to where I'm supposed to be.

Sometimes, I think it's my eyesight that fails me. I see the fluffy clouds dotting a bright blue sky, and I say a little prayer for that extra bit of beauty in my day. But the smaller things seem to elude my glasses-obscured peripheral vision.

That's when it's good to have a farmer who only needs glasses for reading. He sees some of those little things I miss. And he's good about sharing. Last week, he told me about some pretty purple blooms along the Raymond Road. He saw them while on a tractor, so it also put his line of sight above the CRP grasses. I had to go and see them for myself. 

Besides having an observant husband, I knew I could send a photo to my Master Gardener friend, Jeanie, and have the blossoms quickly identified. She says they are Dame's Rocket or hesperis matronalis, if you want to get all technical. Her seed catalog says that "hesperis" is Greek for evening, and the name was probably given because the scent of the flowers becomes more conspicuous towards evening. I can verify that, as I parked the car and waded through the ditch and downed tree limbs to see them up close.

This beautiful "crop" is likely at the site of an old farmstead. Jeanie says she's been seeing stands of these purple blossoms as she's delivered mail on rural routes in the last few weeks. 

Dame's rocket was brought from Europe in the 17th Century. In our neighboring Colorado, this member of the mustard family has been identified as a noxious weed (according to Wikipedia). I'm reminded of an A.A. Milne quote:

Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them. 
A.A. Milne
Author of Winnie the Pooh

They look like flowers to me. And beautiful ones at that.

The Long Way Home

I took the long way home from Topeka on Saturday. As I said yesterday, three weeks makes a huge difference in a baby's life. The same can be said of the Flint Hills. Three weeks ago, the prairie was still "wearing" its drab, brown winter garb, with just a hint of green beginning to peak through. Many of the fields were freshly burned, and the blackened landscape held no hint of the springtime yet to come.

But, during this trip, the lush green grasses outside the car windows were just daring me to pull over for a closer look. Since I was by myself and didn't have a timetable on my way home, I decided to take a short detour to the Konza Prairie overlook just south of Manhattan on K-177.

I barely beat the rain, but the contrast between the vibrant green grasses and the heavy blue sky spoke of springtime in eastern Kansas. Honestly, I wasn't happy with the landscape photos I got. I should have just pulled off on some random road, but I didn't really want to get stuck in a downpour in unfamiliar territory.

While the Flint Hills are often described as a blanket of green, there's more to the picture than that.

Even in just a short time at the overlook, I saw colorful prairie flowers dotting the landscape.

The wind was whipping around from the west as the storm blew in, so capturing the flowers in focus was a bit of a challenge.

But it was worth the wind-whipped hair and flying skirt to capture these small beauties. 

 

I was going to have to drive through heavy rain at some point anyway. I might as well bolster my spirit with a little beauty first!

The skies had cleared by the time I reached the Lindsborg exit, so I decided to take another short detour. I had read that the city had corralled its Dala horses into one spot near the new convention center. The last time we were in Lindsborg, they were scattered throughout the downtown.

 

Unfortunately, a huge RV was parked right next to the display, so I didn't have many camera angle options. Still, it was a nice little diversion and a place to stretch my legs.

This music-themed Dala horse was my favorite - by a nose!

I also went into the Small World Gallery, but I didn't have a Jim Richardson sighting. But I did get to wander through the National Geographic Photographer's work on display. I chose to feel inspired rather than jealous.

The Road Home

The road home is as familiar as the back of my hand. I've driven it thousands of times. Most times, it's at full-speed-ahead mode as I'm late to the next thing on my list. Sometimes, I'm moving at a snail's pace in a filled-to-the-brim wheat truck. Once in awhile, the shakes and rattles of a cattle trailer hitting the pavement form an unintended bass line to whatever is playing on the radio.

Early in our marriage, we lived in a house right on the Zenith Road. But in all those north and south trips, we've never noticed the irises until this year. I must give credit to my sharp-eyed farmer. He's the one who saw them first, and he earns major brownie points for sharing them with me. 

It was an added bonus that it was at the "golden hour," that time when real photographers say the light colors the world in magical ways.

The irises are a bit incongruous. Maybe they are at a site of a long-ago farmstead, but there is no falling down barn or cement foundation that gives us that clue. These days, they are flanked by a CRP field, the dry, brown grasses of winter a sharp contrast to the brilliant colors and soft petals that form the old-fashioned spring flowers. As we examined them more closely, we noticed several of the stems devoid of their blooms. They were likely food for the deer that flash in and out of the same trees and have been the source of more than one close call on our Zenith Road travels.

Irises remind me of my Grandma Neelly, who had them in her backyard. As I stood at her kitchen window, the purple blooms would make dishwashing less of a chore.

And I was blessed by memories colored purple.

The flower offered of itself
And eloquently spoke
Of God

In languages of rainbows
Perfumes
And secret silence...
~Phillip Pulfrey

 from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations

Wild at Heart: Snapshot Kansas

It's easy to overlook the beauty in everyday life. If I just glance down the Zenith Road as I turn the corner toward home, it's a pretty-enough rural landscape. The road seems to stretch into the infinity as dirt road meets blue sky.

But, look a little closer, and the blue of the sky seems to have spilled over onto tiny erect day flowers, like an artist's palette has made dollops of blue in the ditches that line our country road.

Look even closer and each yellow center forms its own sun.

A couple of weeks ago, the Snapshot Kansas photography challenge was Kansas wildflowers. I was so busy with  wheat harvest that I didn't post many of my wildflower favorites.

But, I didn't have to dig very hard to come up with some of my favorite shots. In fact, I had so many that I'll feature a sunflower-themed post later. 

I may not be a gardener.

Thankfully, God is.

 

And I'm glad to recognize His handiwork.

 

I may not always know the name of the flower ...

or the weed, as the case may be.

Just like we humans, the wildflowers are designed to bloom where they are planted ...

or where they are scattered.

There's probably a lesson for us in that, too.

Summertime, And the Livin' Is ...

I noticed these pretty purple blooms among the sunflowers as I delivered my Father's Day treats to my Dad last Friday. I haven't seen them around here. I love purple and yellow together!

"Summertime and the livin' is easy" - or so says the song from Porgy and Bess. 

Today is the first official day of summer. Time will tell, but it also may be the first day of Wheat Harvest 2013. I don't think the song lyrics apply to wheat harvest, unless, of course, you are baby kittens lazing in the mid-afternoon heat.

Notice the one on the far left with a big old yawn!

Randy plans to do some test cutting today. We'll see if the wheat is as ready as he is.  

Our golden waves of grain provide a pretty spectacular backdrop this time of year. But even the ditches are ready for their close-ups, especially with nice little rain showers (another 0.40" earlier this week).

 

I noticed Katherine's day lilies blooming in the backyard for the first time yesterday.

The trumpet vine (a gift from my husband) is painting orange against a bright blue summer sky on my backyard windmill ...

... just in time to greet the summer.  Ah, summertime. The livin' may not be easy. But it sure is pretty.