I've long maintained that if we were to forget the Bible, the Koran, the Upanishads - forget Moses and Jesus and Mohammed and Krishna, the Buddha and the Bodhi Tree - it would not matter in the long run. There would always be a story. If we didn't remember one, we would make one up. Read more about Bull!
My attempt to whet your appetites for travel has whetted my appetite for memories. This picture was taken walking down off the Palatine Hill into the Roman Forum. I found Judas Trees blooming all over southern Europe that April of 2008. Here they brighten what looks like an ancient cedar. Read more about A Tree Grows in the Ruins
As far as gods go, Janus is one of my favorites.
In ancient Roman religion and mythology, Janus is the god of beginnings and transitions, thence also of gates, doors, doorways, endings and time. He is usually a two-faced god since he looks to the future and the past. The concepts of January and janitor are both based on aspects of Janus. Read more about Two-Faced
Going home for Christmas? My son is coming. This house was never home to him, but I'm here and so is his sister, and so he is, indeed, coming home. He visits here once every year or two, but this will be the first time in years that he has spent Christmas with us. Which makes it a journey for both of us.
Welcome home, son. Welcome home, everyone.
I'm one of those counter-culture curmudgeons who still insists on buying (not going to the woods and chopping down) a Christmas tree. I don't get a live one - there's already a forest in my back yard. I haven't gone in for the artificial ones, although some of my best aging hippie friends have done so. I suspect they are in it for the art part.
But I have a passion for colorful Christmas tree ornaments, the twinkle of fairy lights, and the sharp tang of evergreen in the air and so, in what I regard as true pagan fashion, I sacrifice one tree a year to the gods of the renewal of light. Read more about Tree Time
I grabbed the camera just in time - but barely just. The point of this photo is that little squib of yellow-green vest disappearing around the curve just ahead of the blue lorry. That is one of two bicyclists leading the way down a mountain road on the Isle of Skye.
Nobody so much as honked.
The bicycles pulled off to the side of the road a mile or so later on - but I'm not certain it wasn't just to enjoy the view. Their fellow travelers didn't seem to require them to get out of the way. But I could be wrong about that. Read more about Scottish Right of Way
I usually think of street art in the way the Wiki defines it - spontaneous, unsanctioned pieces that appear, more precisely, from the street - i.e., on sidewalks, sides of buildings, parking strips, median strips, and roundabouts.
The Rock of Gibraltar. The Stone of Scone. St. Peter. The Rock of Ages. The Rosetta Stone. The Lia Fáil (Stone of Destiny) on the Hill of Tara. Rock & Roll.
I like rocks. Rocks are naturally occurring solid aggregates of minerals. The Earth's outer solid layer, the lithosphere, is made of rock. The world, both literal and literary, is full of them. They are the aggregate, the collection of the many into one, on which life itself makes its home. Read more about The Rock
I was all set today to regale you with the story of Buffalo Bill and the Queen, but when I went to look for the details, I found this: Read more about So Much For Another Legend