On Heavens Breath!

The butterflies are out in force in the deep south and

while clicking the shutter on a few flutterbys last week

this little guy happened along. Although it has obviously

been through a tough time, it was still trying to carry out

its mission here on earth. I couldn't help but feel a little

sorry for it and wonder what happened to cause the wing

damage. Did it get caught out in the storm and wind? Did

it have a bad encounter with a predator? Or perhaps did

it have a run in with a motor vehicle on a highway? It is

really amazing if you notice the number of butterflies that

meet their demise on the highways and byways.

Pipevine Swallowtail     Battus philenor

Although its damage is pretty severe, it still carries on!

I wrote this poem and used on another post some time ago

but thought it was just too fitting for this little fellow.

On Heaven's Breath

On Heaven's Breath I flutterby
Pressed against her deep blue breast
Over lake and stream I tarry nigh
Through field and wood I rest

True course I hold through wind and storm
A journey far from start to end
Constant dangers are endless born
Waiting, lurking, round every bend

I cast my lot upon the breeze
And pray a gentle hand it give
By fate it carries me where it please
Through countless battles I must live

And when I cross your path one day
On Heaven's Breath I flutterby
Cast your eyes upon my way
And say a pray for butterfly

Randy Schultz August 24, 2010

And Comes The Light!

Morning is a special time. A time when light pushes away darkness and the world comes to life. A time of peace and tranquility for the soul. A time of beauty and inspiration. A cycle that continues its march to the beating drums of time.

And Comes The Light 

Gentle rays of morning sun

Slipping eerily through the trees

Causing darkness to make its run

And hide beneath the leaves

A hint of warmth spreading fair

Touching dew from night before

A wisp of steam upon the air

Giving way to mornings door

Pass on through my gentle light

Light the path for day to come

Chase away thy starry night

With wings upon thy beating drum

©  Randy J. Schultz     August 18, 2011

July Beauties!

July and early August can be a really hard time to find much in the way of wild native flora to photograph due to the hot days and low moisture(usually). But if you are vigilant, persistent, and willing to do a little rambling in some unlikely places, there are a few specimens that usually go un-noticed by the everyday passerby. Here are a few friends I found on a couple of outings over the last two weeks. Some of these I have never noticed before myself and have passed by their abodes for many years, but just too busy to stop, get out and "Walk In The Woods" for a bit.  ( I am not a flower expert so if I have mis-identified any of these beauties, please don't hesitate to let me know.)                          

                                Pencil Flower - Styloanthes biflora



                                Naked-Flower Tick Trefoil - Desmodium nudiflorum

                                Seedpod for Trefoil

                                Woodland Sunflower - Helianthus divaricatus

                            

                                Maryland Meadow Beauty - Rhexia mariana

                               

                               Urn-shaped fruit of the Meadow Beauty

                               Spurred Butterfly Pea - Centrosema virginianum   

                               Unidentified bee that lit just as I clicked the shutter!

                                                           

                     
                               Butterfly Pea - Clitoria mariana

                                 Can someone help me with this one? The flower is like a dandelion

                                so I thought maybe False Dandelion but stems and leaves not right.

                                Garden or Fall Phlox - Phlox paniculata

To Cast My Eyes Your Way

How oft have I passed your way

And never a glance gave you

Off to more important things

The things I must daily do

If only I had cast an eye

From down the path I followed

To gaze upon the beauty there

Along meadow, brook and hollow

All shapes, sizes and colors

Yellow, Gold, Red and Blue

Asters, Iris, Lily and Violets

To name but just a few

All made by God and placed for me

To brighten up my day

If only I had took the time

To cast my eyes your way

             Randy J. Schultz   October 1st, 2009

Hope everyone has a wonderful week and may all your paths be gentle, your tread ways be soft and your endeavors fruitful.

Randy

A Mountain Stream!

I had the opportunity this past weekend to spend some quality time in the mountains.  One of my favorite places to unwind is the Great Smoky Mountains in eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina. While the lay of the land is rather harsh if you strike out on foot to visit it's natural beauty, you will always be rewarded with the best creation has to offer. Soaking up the beauty and clearing all the cob webs that tend to accumulate from the daily grind comes easy and natural in this part of God's world.

Near the trail head to Baskins Creek Falls, I noticed this beautiful flowing stream. It just beckoned me to come feel it's coolness and try to capture the serenity flowing forth from it's presence. It is hard to understand and even harder to explain all the ways a certain place can speak to you. You must listen deeply and wholely. You must turn out all the garbage we lug around with us and let the music of our maker flow into and through you. And when you are able to do this, then a peace will come to you that you may have never known.

A Mountain Stream

High above

the valley wide

raindrops fall

on mountain side

A common path

you seek to flow

and gather there

a stream to grow

To trickle down

and gather speed

a trail you carve

an fill a need

And further down

the mountain side

on trip down toward

the valley wide

A thing of beauty

you become

on way back to

where you came from

For streams do make

rivers wide

and all flow back 

to ocean tide

Where the magic of

God's geat plan

lifts you up

to start again

©Randy J. Schultz    June 24, 2011

Abrams Falls!

Access to Abrams Falls is located at the back end of the Cades Cove Loop Road in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It is on Abrams Creek and you get to it by hiking Abrams Falls Trail which begins at a gravel parking area just off the Cades Cove Loop Road. It is a moderate trail of about 2.5 miles one way and follows the creek to this most beautiful waterfall. It is a perfect place to take the family and have a picnic lunch around the pool that surrounds the lower side of the falls. It is about a 31/2 to 4 hour roundtrip hike and you will want to spend some time just admiring the falls. This shot was taken on Feb 19th, 2011 and the flow was good due to the heavy snow melting in the high country.

              We Must Go

"Streams are the arteries of the earth; 
and waterfalls are the adrenaline 
that turns a slow and placid flow
into that incredible and beautiful rush
that awakens every sense 
God gave to man.

For what man or beast can,
upon hearing the first hint
of rushing water as it roars
over ageless rocks,
resist its temptation.

We must go,
and smell its' freshness,
lay eyes upon its' beauty, 
put hand and feet to its' cool
and warm embrace.

We must go,
and give ear to listen
to its' music made,
to taste its' sweetness,
to admire its' grandeur,
to refresh our soul." 
        Randy J. Schultz  

Gray Squirrel

I stopped by a local park today to eat a quick lunch and this little gal came by acting a bit curious, so I threw a few sunflower seeds on the ground and she wasted no time joining me for lunch. This is a gray squirrel but her tail is more red and white than what is the norm for gray squirrels. That being said, it reminded of a squirrel I watched several years ago while sitting in a deer stand about 20 feet up a tree. That squirrel was also very unique and I wrote the following poem while watching him.

The Fox Squirrel

I saw a fox squirrel
So different and unique
It was not head nor body 
Nor was it his feet.

Of people who are different
We label them a thing
But of this fox squirrel
I believe him a king.

Was it age that changed
Him ever so much?
No I believe it was God
Who granted this touch.

No he was not normal
In our sense of the word
But to me he was beautiful
And just then I heard

The scuffling of feet
In leaves down below
He was looking for food
And how did he know

There was acorn under leaves
Fell from a tree
And as he ate it swiftly
He looked happy to me.

He was neither large nor small
And not very strong
But because he was different
Was surely not wrong.

To his enemies he stood out
Like a beacon light,
But to his kind
He was surely a knight.

To ever be cautious
He must not fail
This beautiful fox squirrel
With the solid white tail.
        Randy J. Schultz

Setting Evening Sun

Snapped this shot near Red Bay, AL just before sun set. I was using a point and shoot with no lense or filter, just natural light and composition. Is God not the most awesome artist you have ever seen? One day several years ago, I was in a favorite spot and trying to do some writing but my mind would not focus and I was having trouble generating anything worthwhile to put to paper. Frustrated, I looked down at my paper and noticed it had a golden glow as the setting sun cast it evening rays on me. In a matter of minutes I had wrote the  poem below. Thank you Father, you always show us a way when we seem to have trouble finding our own.

Writers Block
As I take pen in hand
The words won't seem to flow
But as I stare at this paper
It has a warm and gentle glow

For what is the reason
There can only be but one
There's nothing quite as splendid
As the setting evening sun

I have sat all day long
And nothing has gone well
I scratched and I scribbled
And there is nothing I can tell

And as I sit here and struggle
To find the words to write
I am constantly reminded
By this precious golden light

My mind may draw a blank
And I'm the weary one
But there's nothing quite a splendid
As the setting evening sun.

               Randy J. Schultz:  November 22, 2003

On Heaven's Breath

Tawny Emperor (Astercampa clyton)

A member of the Hackberry Butterfly group decided to lite upon my truck bed so I was obliged to grab a quick shot of this beautiful member of God's creation. Thanks for stopping by and sharing a moment with me long enough to admire your beautiful coloration. Butterflies go through an extradinary migration every year and they are at the mercy of everything they come in contact with, thus the poem below.

Happiness is like a butterfly which, when persued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you sit down quitely, may alight upon you.

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864): American Novelist

On Heaven's Breath

On Heaven's Breath I flutterby
Framed against her deep blue breast
Over lake and stream I tarry nigh
Through field and wood I rest

True course I hold through wind and storm
A journey far from start to end
Constant dangers are endless born
Waiting, lurking, round every bend

I cast my lot upon the breeze
And pray a gentle hand it give
By fate it carries me where it please
Through countless battles I must live

And when I cross your path one day
On Heaven's Breath I flutterby
Cast your eyes upon my way
And say a pray for butterfly
                            Randy J. Schultz    August 24, 2010

Mayapple

Mayapple ( Podophyllum peltatum)

is the name of a low growing plant that pops up in colonies in the spring. Mayapple usually grows in a well shaded, rich, deciduous woodland soil in a mountain or hill area . It has a single flower that can be edible and has been used to make jelly and jam. Small amounts of the root were used by Native Americans and early settlers to treat jaundice, hepatitus, fever and syphilis, constipation and as a worm expellant. "Any part of this plant used incorrectly could be dangerous. All parts of the plant are considered poisonous" Some other common names for this plant are "Duck Foot, Devil's Apple, Indian Apple, Hog Apple, Ground Lemon, Mandrake, Racoonberry, Umbrella Plant, Wild Jalap, Wild Lemon, Wild Mandrake and Yellowberry among a few others.

If from a woodlot near we find
A flower of beauty there
And later thought brings to mind
Many uses it has to share

Should we not pause and thank the Lord
Whose creation we behold
And lift our arms to heaven toward
All praise to God be told
                            Randy J. Schultz:  August 7th, 2010

Fall Brings the Harvest

Well the farmers are in full swing now trying to get the harvest done. These shots

were taken of Bostick Farms in Tishomingo County, Mississippi. Joe and two sons

Ryan and Nathan are trying to get a little work done between rains. The very rains

that brought much needed moisture through the summer, now hinder the fall

harvest with one of the wettest September's that can be remembered for this area.

Farmers are the bread and butter of this great land and we too often take all their

hardwork and risk for granted. Good luck guys as you go about your harvest.

What Makes a Farmer's Gold

From beneath the plow

Came a story that need be told

Of seed, soil and water

That makes a farmer's gold

Would any give a forethought

To the muscle, pain and sweat

That opened up the furrow

For seed he placed to bet 

And one by one

The seed he laid

And placed them in

The row just made

To pray for rain

But not too much

To pray to God

To grant His touch

Lord bless this land

That I must till

With grace and mercy

If it be Your will

From late winter rains

And early spring frost

From summertime heat

Save all be lost

And as days stroll by

And the seasons pass

Summer turns to fall

It's harvest time at last

From sun and moon

Come harvest light

To reap the bounty

Through day and night

With cribs laid full

And hay stacked high

Praise be given

For year gone by

Thank you Lord above

Whose creation we behold

For Your seed, soil and water

Makes a farmer's gold

Randy J. Schultz Oct. 12, 2009

Coon Dog Cemetary

Just a few miles outside of Red Bay, Alabama in Franklin County in the northwest corner of the state lies a little know cemetary. It's not your run of the mill cemetary for the only patrons buried there are Coon Dogs.
It dates back to September 4th, 1937 when a coon dog named "Troop" was put to rest in the hallowed ground. Since that time many faithful partners of the hound dog variety have made this their last resting place on this earth. A fitting memorial of two hounds clawing to get up a tree that they have just run a coon up, stands to commerate all the coon dogs buried here. It is still active today as the last service held was for a dog named "Flop" buried on August 8th, 2009. Now at first thought, one might think this is just a little strange, but I would beg you to hold all notions of wierd, looney, insane or any other adjective that might come to mind until you think about it for a while. Better yet, visit there and spend a little quite time just pondering all the tales and stories and memories that go along with the lives of these animals we call man's best friend. I have to say it is a little emotional to walk through the cemetary and just imagine if they could all tell their story. I couldn't help feel a part of their lives as I strolled from grave to grave and saw the names and dates of these faithful ole hunting partners. This poem came to mind as I began to leave the cemetary.

The Ballad Of "Ole Number Seven "

I'm just an ole hound dog

I ain't good for much

Laying around all day

Eating and sleeping and such

Resting my ole bones

And healing up my paws

Waiting til the sun goes down

For to exercise my jaws

Cause when the sun does drop

Down behind the hills

And the moon slowly rises

And gives the air a chill

My ole nose goes to twitching

And sniffing out the air

My heart begins to quicken

Sending ripples through my hair

Ears that drooped all day

Now turn and face the breeze

Trying to catch the sound

Of coon talk in the trees

From across the way it comes

Old Red lets out a sound

A verse of hound dog music

"Boys the coons have hit the ground"

The time it is upon us

A hunting we must go

We'll gather at the river

Where the mountain waters flow

Who'll cross the trail

Where ole Cooney has left a scent

And be the first to tell'm all

I'm the best there's ever bent

But on this night I fear that I

Must stay here on this porch

Mine eye does hold a flicker

Where once they held a torch

And as the race heats up

They make their music loud

Old Red and Bear and Preacher

They lead this coon dog crowd

And Sam and Doc and Troop

What quite a six they make

To lay here just a listening

Is more than I can take

For when I was a younger dog

I was a cooning all the time

No better nose for trailing

Had any dog than mine

Ole Cooney would often lead us

Far and wide we'd go

Through valley and over mountain

Through rain and wind and snow

But before the night was over

We'd put ole Coon to tree

There was none any better than

The other six and me

But tonight would be the last time

I would hear them sweet and loud

To run but one more race with them

Would make me oh so proud

But I must race alone tonight

For I was "Ole Number Seven"

My final race will lead me

Straight up to Coon Dog Heaven

And as the flicker in my eye

Turned to embers in the dark

I knew they had treed ole Cooney

I could tell the way they barked

Don't worry none ole partner

Was the last thing they said

Ole Cooney done his best

But we've sent him on ahead

We didn't want you lonely

When you get to Coon Dog Heaven

So strike his trail and keep it hot

Our friend "Ole Number Seven"

          

         Randy J. Schultz   October 6th, 2009