A butterfly glides to a landing
beside Maple Grove Road on Kentucky 192 west of London.
. . . and . . .
A blue wildflower looks pretty
beside West Virginia 92 just north of Cove Run Road.
Of the Wild Image.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Bowling Green, Kentucky
Meeting people and hearing their stories is a balm for the lonely road. But when you tire of strangers, no matter how gracious and courteous they may be, you can pull off the asphalt onto a country lane and look at the flowers, trees, and meadows.
Capturing photographic images of wildflowers and the creatures who roam their vegetable universe is a task of patience and precision I've haven't mastered yet. You miss more than you catch, and many that you think you've captured appear as a blur when you see them on the computer screen at the end of the day.
Just yesterday, the delicate white blossom at the top of Long Fork Mountain, far back in the Kentucky hills on a state highway that turns into a county lane, simply refused to be photographed in any form other than the dreaded blur. Many of the flowers I've met act that way. They're too shy, I suppose, to allow their picture to be shown to the masses.
Despite frequent disappointments — caused by flowers likin' to dance in the breeze, shallow depth of field, camera movement caused by awkward stances in the ditches and hillsides where the blossoms grow — the pursuit of the wild image is worth the hunt. You can stretch your legs, feel the sunshine on your bald head — if you're blessed to have one — breathe fresh air, and smell the sweet aroma of the natural world. It's wonderful. It really is.
NOTE: Like any child educated in the classical liberal arts tradition of western civilization, I want to know the names of things. I don't care to guess, either, unless I've done my research. Finding the names of the flowers I've met on my travels with Godzilla must await my return to the study and laboratory at Crow's Cottage.
Maple Grove Road on Kentucky 192 west of London.
The statue of Chief Logan of the Mingo Tribe
stands beside a Chamber of Commerce building "made entirely of coal," according to the fact sheet distributed by the chamber.
The statue and building made of coal are located
next to the
Court House Square
in Williamson, West Virginia.
Williamson snuggles up to Kentucky along the Tug Fork River.
"Tourists are interested in the history of our Indian Chief
and many different stories are told of him," the fact sheet states.
"Our neighboring county bears his name
and our own county bears the name of his tribe."
The Mingo hunted in the region in the days before the USA
recognized West Virginia as a member of the republic.
A Mingo burial ground in Williamson
is known by the name of Reservation Hill.
According to historians,
Chief Logan's wife, children, and all other relatives
were slain by a drunken soldier in 1774.
The words attributed to the grieving chief
in a letter to a British colonial governor of Virginia
express the abiding and primal power of blood and family.
I appeal of any white man to say
if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry,
and he gave him not meat;
if ever he came cold and naked,
and he clothed him not.
During the last and bloody war,
Logan remained quiet in his cabin, an advocate of peace.
Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen
pointed as they passed and said,
"Logan is a friend of white men."
I had ever thought to have lived with you,
but for the injuries of one man,
who the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked,
murdered all the relatives of Logan,
not even sparing my women and children.
There runs not a drop of my blood
in the veins of any living creature.
Who is there to mourn for Logan?
William Warren's barn
stands to the north of Kentucky Highway 192
near Cold Hill in the Daniel Boone National Forest.
Mr. Warren's brother Randy said he's been living
across from the barn for 54 years.
He estimated the barn's age at 85 years.
"Take it easy, old man," Randy said as we bid one another farewell.
An attempt by T Rex to intimidate Godzilla proved futile
during our visit to North Wildwood, New Jersey, on August 19.
The Atomic Road Lizard stood her ground,
commenting later that she'd once defeated the entire Japanese air force
in pitched battle in the salty waters outside Tokyo
To read the previous dispatch in the narrative,
kindly click the crow!
Notices of new dispatches from my Travels with Godzilla are sent by e-mail express to my list of family, friends, students, and fellow travelers. If you've come here by some other means than an e-mail invitation, and would like to receive notices, please write me so I can add you to the list. I share the addresses with no one but Godzilla, who can't type and doesn't do e-mail.
form the narrative "Travels with Godzilla."
The Journey Ends:
Bye, Buck Bowles.
Monday, August 31
By the Hand of Man.
Thursday, August 27
Shy and Wonderful:
Of the Wild Image.
Wednesday, August 26
It Wasn't the Flood.
Tuesday, August 25
So Many Mountains
Giving Some Up.
Monday, August 24
Pay Is Pay
Saturday, August 22
Counting the Lanes.
Friday, August 21
An Easy Puzzle:
Flat and Tidy.
Thursday, August 20
A Fine Old Motor Vessel
Makes a Smooth Crossing
from Jersey to Delaware.
Wednesday, August 19
Sandy Pine Barrens
On a Road to Heaven.
Tuesday, August 18
Sugar Hollow Road:
Not too Far
down the Way
Friday, August 14
Thursday, August 13
Off Balance, Agitated.
Tuesday, August 11
Success and Fear
On the Sly Peripheral.
Monday, August 10
You Want to Take Forever.
Sunday, August 9
Carry Me Home.
Saturday, August 8
Friday, August 7