“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


a mushroom unfolds, a story is told

I thought it was a flower.

It caught my eye last night,
nestled snug against the house,
next to the hole dug by an armadillo the night before.
Just a tiny thing.
Daylight was fading,
a quick goodbye and it would be gone,
the sunset behind storm clouds moving in.

A second glance
and a pair of glasses
revealed the magic of a mushroom,
opening to the evening and the coming rain.
I had to turn the camera away from me,
hold it firm against the wall,
unable to see through the viewfinder.
1/8 second exposure
needing all the help it could get.
Mosquitoes found me,
standing still,
leaning into the camera.

Only one shot remotely in focus,
but one was all I needed.

Lunchtime yesterday the sun was shining,
casting lacy shadows onto the hackberry tree,
and I'd been out then also,
taking pictures,
picking up pecans
before the squirrels & raccoons get them all.

At the reception for his museum exhibition,
Robert spoke the other night about the unseen changes of a place,
unseen unless you walk inside that place and stand still,
that that's the way it is here in East Texas;
the landscape not out there in front of you,
but right here - you must step inside.
Despite my hurting feet,
standing in new heels,
I felt those words strike my heart,
knowing exactly what he meant.
A friend from my college days was there
and we spoke later,
and he, too, had felt the truth of those words,
knew the feeling of no horizon.

It's a beautiful show if you're in town.
Tyler Museum of Art.
Light Footprints: Robert Langham.
Through February 21.

Step inside.
stand inside my town


  1. great capture, a mushroom as a flower! nice

    Being in Texas too I hear you about the mosquitoes! I am ready for a cold snap to take them out.


  2. Fabulous, it was so ripe it turned right up and you captured it being different!!
    Sandra Evertson

  3. aww... a mushroom flower. isn't that the cutest.
    ya know honey, im so glad you took interest enough to see what it was.

  4. Beautiful post. What a great mushroom find!! I like the words..."the feeling of no horizon" I have put a horizon up lately thinking their is not place to sail. I need to catch a breeze soon!!!

  5. What an amazing picture. It never occurred to me to see the beuty in a mushroom, and now thanks to your post, I do. I do.

  6. "the feeling of no horizon"... I can't even begin to detail the imagery this evokes.. beautiful...



  7. oh how wish I could make it to both...such a full weekend...funny how I posted pines ...you on my mind I guess

    the mushroom has a plan of it's own...nestled

  8. Oh my, your words sing to me. After vanishing (again) for so long, it is very comforting to return to listen to your stories, the small and beautiful moments that you share. I think I am slowly learning that stillness, too, so far away from the Texas I love.

  9. Only you, dear Debi would find such magic...a mushroom that aspires to be a flower!

    So many times I have come to your blog, and have been entranced by something you have there in Texas that I have never seen before...flowers that bloom only at night for instance. And pecan trees. And now I can add armadillos to that list.
    Can I come visit you? I would love to shake hands with an armadillo.



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