Riverboat ride

Riding the Mississippi in a riverboat has been one of my fondest dreams since I was a small child. I don’t think there’s any other adventure on earth I’d rather try more than taking a boat the length of the Mississippi River.

I remember watching an old black and white cartoon when I was very young that had a tune about the Mississippi and in the process taught us how to spell it.


I can actually still hear the tune, it was so catchy. I learned how to spell Mississippi before I learned how to spell ‘cat’ with that cartoon. (This was the same set of cartoons that used to have ‘follow the bouncing ball’ for the songs — remember?)

And then there’s Mark Twain’s tales of the Mississippi River. From his book “Life on the Mississippi, Twain talked about being a riverboat pilot:

If I have seemed to love my subject, it is no surprising thing, for I loved the profession far better than any I have followed since, and I took a measureless pride in it. The reason is plain: a pilot, in those days, was the only unfettered and entirely independent human being that lived in the earth.

I sometimes think my inability to settle in one spot can be attributed, in some small part, to Mark Twain and the Mississippi River.

Photography Political

No stone step was harmed in the taking of this picture

“What did you do during the war, Auntie Shell?”

“Well, I took photos and wrote to a weblog.”


“Did this help win the war, Auntie Shell?”

“No, it had absolutely no impact on the war, whatsoever.”



outdoors Photography Places

Shaw Nature Preserve

I spent a wonderful, non-computer, non-war day at the Shaw Nature Preserve about 35 miles outside of St. Louis. The weather was very warm and starting to show a little of summer’s humidity. I had a amazingly relaxing day, and managed to find some photographs, which I’ve posted in separate entries (including a scene I spotted at a strip mall along the way that was too good to miss).

Some of the photos have complementary poems, all of which are new for me, except for the daffodil one by Wordsworth. I swear, he’s the only poet that ever wrote about daffodils. And you have to check out the poem “Daughters, 1900″. A perfect poem for a lazy warm spring day. Hopefully you’ll like the photos, too.

In two weeks time, the fields of Virginia Bluebells will be in bloom and I’ll pay another visit.