This abandoned beauty sits off U.S 70 east of Little Rock in the row crop land of the Arkansas Delta. The image is almost a cliche, and had tried countless different croppings in an effort to keep it from being a cliche. In the end, thought it best to let it be.
Sunny Sleevz’ delicious looking hibiscus tea brought to mind the hibiscus growing in the new rain garden at work. The photo doesn’t truly capture the brilliant red of these blooms.
We are fortunate to live in a time and place where we can read and comprehend the messages around us.
A little local color among our wild grapes.
See other purples from this week’s challenge:
Purple passion (flower)
Purple with purpose
Follow the purple thread
Finding the positive in a negative
There’s nothing like a stroll around the office before the work day begins to clear the mind, enjoy the sub 100-degree temperatures and find delightful surprises like this massive 2-inch-plus beetle. (not to mention four whole cents in two days!)
Drought continues to strengthen its hold on Arkansas, with a third of the state’s area in what the U.S. Drought Monitor calls “exceptional drought,” the most intense category of dryness. That area includes the Suburban Ferndale rural-plex. And it’s hot, with 100-plus degree temps (37 C and up). Call it desert-like. Call it drought-blasted, but the most vivid indicator of our drought was this: the fence lizard turning this bucket into his own private swimming pool.
Looking at the world from the inside out for this week’s photo challenge.
The Weekly Photo Challenge Mother Page
Who doesn’t like lobster?
A vintage take
No doubt about it!
From inside an abandoned factory
Courgette from the inside
Inside the glacier
Inside view of India nnd Nepal
In my beak, please!
Rain. Hydroplane. Slide.
In the seconds between leaving the road and coming to rest in the trees, there were three clear thoughts running through my head: “I hope we don’t roll.” “Get as deep into the seat as you can without bracing.” and “My husband’s side is going to hit the trees and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He told me later he was thinking, “I’m glad it’s going to hit me and not her.”
The roadster’s front end hit a tree and the force spun the car. Then everything stopped. The only sound, the staccato drumming of the rain on the hard top, was broken by the questions: “You OK? I’m OK.” “Are you OK? I’m OK.” And then we opened the doors and stepped out into the rain, giddy that we could.
We are grateful to the engineers who could design a car to take such a blow and allow us to walk away — even after 91,000 miles with adventures in 15 states. The front end absorbed so much energy the airbags didn’t deploy. Inside, the cabin was pristine, one couldn’t tell that anything was wrong.
We can’t help but think that beyond the engineering, the grace of God played the biggest part in our survival.
Sadly, the much-loved car is no more, totaled by the insurance company.