In my earlier travel update on our trip to Yellowstone this summer and the black bear we saw walking right next to the road. I wasn’t very smart about it and was running down the road after him to get good pictures along with a missive crowd of people. This are the best photos of him that I thought were worth re-posting on their own. So here he is.
Out in Cooke City Montana there is an old house. It has new glass in the windows, it’s doors hang on rusted hinges, the inside was long ago torn out and slowly accumulated junk within, and the house itself has been weathered by time so much that it now more resembles an old haunted house. I love this house. Every time I see it I have to take a picture. This year it was different. The ground around the old broken down house was covered in purple flowers. Slowly but surely all that was old becomes new and all that is new will soon be old. It just takes time, all things change in time. You will only see it though if you are willing to wait. So wait for change and bring in the new from the old and maybe even the old from the new.
You were sitting out by the Boardwalk when a friend and I walked by. You had a mantra on a cardboard sign in front of you. It was nice to read it and talk with you. Thanks for the mantra and the picture, keep Santa Cruz weird.
red hat revisited…
There are memories now
Of a long lost love
Of a passion who could have been
But never was
Resting in her eyes
You can see the place where
His kisses
Left a burned out hole
In her heart
Fragile like a robin’s egg
So nurtured so loved
But it shattered on the ground
She held her face so daintily once
But no more
Now she hangs it low
As if it is too heavy
To hold up on her own
Once she had a fire
That burned in her eyes
But now all that is left
Are the blackened coals
Left behind
Smoldering and decaying
Do you know her name
Once she was love
Once she was loved
Once she was a lover
But now she is no one
Love had carved out her heart
And left her empty inside
Now she is a shell
Of her beauty
Of her spirit
That along with love
Ever slowly died
So it is official now, I have had this blog up and running for a whole year. This time last year I decided that I would publish my own work and share what I thought and how I felt with the world. I just wanted to take a quick look back at some of my favorite works I have done, photographs and writing a like.
Of course there was the Shoe Tree from last years road trip that we found out in Oregon. The dawn of the creeper photos early on in the beginning of the blog. Who could forget the somewhat haunting video of Hood doing his she wolf performance. One of my favorites, the baby shoe gangster.
This one is for my mom. Her favorite, the abandoned truck bed out in Salt Lake City.
The rants were fun and I think quite a few people enjoyed them as well. Rants like the Mosquito Hunter seemed popular. My favorite Creeper Photo of them all, the infamous red hat.
This one is for my grandpa, my most faithful and loving reader. 
Thanks for all of your support, I know you really liked this gecko a lot so here he is again.
Short stories like the Blind Man and poems like Mary all try to explain and explore what it means to be a human. And of course my persona motto, If Only It Were That Simple, to explain how I try to see the world.
Finally here are just a couple of photos that I really liked over the course of my blog.
The list could go on forever. Thank you to me readers or anyone just poking in to get the occasional read. It has been a good year. I look forward to many more.
The colors in the rainforest are stunning. The water and moisture bring out the color in everything making something ordinary into the most extraordinary experiences.
There were some of the most amazing looking people at the Lady Gaga concert at HP Pavilion. She was one of the first people we saw. She had on these interesting leggings, booty shorts/ basically underwear, and was smoking a cigarette. And just as I took a picture she walked into the picture position; with the do not enter caution tape right over her crouch. I don’t think that could be any more perfect. What can I say but DO NOT ENTER!
I have yet again found myself
Standing in front of the old wooden door
Once it was beautiful
But now no more
It is broken and withered
Destroyed by age
But still I remember the time
When behind that door
A life was held
Born and raised
Someone lived behind that closed door
But now they are gone
Leaving the door wide open
To let all evil inside
It is empty now
Only filled with time
The only remnant left
The old wooden door
Long ago left behind
It is hanging now
By one rusty hinge
Hidden in over grown grasses
Blowing slowly in the wind
I can’t remember the child’s name
Who once lived behind this door
No memories remain
I try to remember
But there is nothing left
Just the old wooden door
And a forgotten address
