Johnny's Senior Art Show



excerpts from Vectors 2.3: Fifty Aphorisms and Ten-Second Essays

10.        No one’s so entertaining as the one who thinks you are.
16.        The way our walk changes entering a store or museum, slowing, widening a little, eyes sweeping level.  Foraging on the ancient savanna for something to eat, something to use.
22.        Nothing dirtier than old soap.
24.        Snakes cannot back up.
27.        Nothing important comes with instructions.
33.        For Sisyphus the trouble of pushing the rock uphill was worth it for the thrill of watching it smash all before it on the way down.
50.        Closing a door very gently, you pull with one hand, push with the other.

—James Richardson (1950- )


Rose colored  day in LaConner.
Christianson's Nursery is the best!

someone spotted spotted rays


A sugar glider flings itself from a branch with the full moon behind it. Husband and wife duo Mary Ann and Joe McDonald from Pennsylvania in the US photographed the gliding marsupials - native to Australia - in their back garden. The couple erected a 15ft post and left a mixture of nuts at the bottom to coax the sugar gliders to leap down past the camera lens in order to capture them in flight.


"Come on let's twist again like we did last Summer, Come on let's twist again like we did last year..." oh, wait there was no Summer last Summer ...never mind!


Photo: Dorothea Lange


by Ted Kooser

Mid April already, and the wild plums
bloom at the roadside, a lacy white
against the exuberant, jubilant green
of new grass and the dusty, fading black
of burned-out ditches. No leaves, not yet,
only the delicate, star-petaled
blossoms, sweet with their timeless perfume.

You have been gone a month today
and have missed three rains and one nightlong
watch for tornadoes. I sat in the cellar
from six to eight while fat spring clouds
went somersaulting, rumbling east. Then it poured,
a storm that walked on legs of lightning,
dragging its shaggy belly over the fields.

The meadowlarks are back, and the finches
are turning from green to gold. Those same
two geese have come to the pond again this year,
honking in over the trees and splashing down.
They never nest, but stay a week or two
then leave. The peonies are up, the red sprouts
burning in circles like birthday candles,

for this is the month of my birth, as you know,
the best month to be born in, thanks to you,
everything ready to burst with living.
There will be no more new flannel nightshirts
sewn on your old black Singer, no birthday card
addressed in a shaky but businesslike hand.
You asked me if I would be sad when it happened

and I am sad. But the iris I moved from your house
now hold in the dusty dry fists of their roots
green knives and forks as if waiting for dinner,
as if spring were a feast. I thank you for that.
Were it not for the way you taught me to look
at the world, to see the life at play in everything,
I would have to be lonely forever.


googling around and remembered it was Daddy's birthday today.

55. JOHN6 BOUMAN (ADA L.5 LUBBERS, GERTRUDE4 SPRIK, GERITJAN3, JAN2, JAN1) was born May 06, 1912, and died November 1971. He married WILMA POR. She was born August 19, 1914, and died November 1984.

Children of J

ROBERT JOHN7 BOUMAN, b. September 25, 1941.

JANE ANN BOUMAN, b. September 27, 1943.

SUSAN KATE BOUMAN, b. June 10, 1947.

JOHN ANTON BOUMAN, b. September 01, 1950.

ELSA LOUISE BOUMAN, b. June 04, 1954.

grandparents Bouman and Aunt Geraldine who we never knew was only 21 years old when she died.