Right Arm Blues

It’s often said
Without a shred
Of sincerity
Or care,

We don’t appreciate
Til it’s too late
Our youth or job
Or hair.

So in my case
I must make haste
To write and post
And “chat.”

For soon in May
I have to say
It will happen
That . . .

I’m going to lose
The right to use
My right arm
Altogether.

To write a post
I could boast
Would be an
Endeavor.

I will read lots
And “like” your plots
While I am in
Plaster.

What’s that you ask?
A plaster cast!
Plaster! To help heal
Faster.

My right wrist
Has come adrift
And needs a
Little op.

‘Cause if I don’t
My right wrist won’t
Last long. It will
Just pop!

I’ve writ my last
Before my cast.
I’ll read and rest
In fetters.

And then when I’m
Fit and sublime
I’ll tell you
“I’m all better!”

Plaster cast on forearm/wrist/hand. Picture ta...
Oh nooo! I said my right arm! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Going Under . . . .

. . . . . Enveloped in plastic . . .

Maid of the Mist, Niagara Falls

. . . we took our life in our hands . .

Maid of the Mist, Niagara Falls

. . . to board Maid of the Mist . . .

Niagara Falls

. . . and headed into Niagara Falls . . .

Niagara Falls

. . . and disappeared, enveloped in mist.

Niagara Falls

This week’s photo challenge is to illustrate the word enveloped.  Click here to see other entries to the challenge.

To see Niagara Falls enveloped in snow and ice visit Joanne Sisco’s great post A Winter Day At The Falls.

Haboob!

. . . . not Hoodoo or Whoohoo!

While living on the outskirts of Phoenix I witnessed several extreme dust storms, also known by the Arabic name of haboob! I can’t even say it without an exclamation point in my voice.

They would sweep through the valley between our balcony and the distant mountains giving us a perfect view of these Forces of Nature. Only once did I get a mouthful of grit and have to make a hasty retreat to the apartment.

Dust storm, Fountain Hills AZ

The view would completely disappear behind the spooky murk.

haboob, Fountain Hills, AZ U.S.A.

Moments later as the wind blew through the dust would disappear and the view of distant mountains and our ‘world famous’ fountain rising up to over 500 feet would reappear.

Moonrise, Four Peaks, Fountain Hills AZ

And later, a perfect moonrise over Four Peaks was revealed – two more forces of nature:

Moonrise, Four Peaks, Fountain Hills, AZ

Moonrise

This is no longer our ‘corner of the world’ but nature is more genteel in this corner of the world and I wanted to share the noxious dust storm pictures with you.

Tiptoeing through the Tulips

After one-and-a-half years living in and several visits to Washington State we never made it to Skagit Valley to see the tulips. It was one of probably hundreds of wonderful sights that we missed while in the States for nine years. To placate myself I convinced himself to visit ‘Tulipmania’ with me. He was less than enthusiastic. I wasn’t expecting much. Don’t you love it when things turn out so much better than you expected? If you like tulips, click to enlarge these pics. If you don’t, there are more exciting things below!

I’ve christened these tulips Gale Force Yellow: tulipmania 066 If you’re not tulip-ed out (I’m American. We make up words) visit my cousin’s WordPress site and her stunning photos of the Skagit Valley tulips here. And for Jude’s Bench Challenge sit here: tulipmania 175 This bench with a view is only a week late. She said the rules were flexible. If you’re a glutton for punishment, listen to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcSlcNfThUA Go on! It will give you a laugh!

It’s What? Nooo.

Another entry for this week’s photo challenge of Intricate  , but what is it?

Tulipmania, Springfield Festival Gardens, Spalding, Lincolnshire

Is it an avant garde artist’s latest creation?

Nooooo.

Is it ice crystals on strawberry ice cream?

Noooo.

Did it fall off Lady Gaga’s latest outfit?

No!

So what is it then?

Scroll down and see:

Tulipmania, Springfield Festival Gardens, Spalding, Lincolnshire

Did you guess it was a tulip? You didn’t cheat and look at the tags did you?

Hoodoo! not Whoohoo!

The hoodoos of Bryce Canyon have to be seen to be believed – difficult to describe!

Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah  Hoodoos differ from pinnacles or spires with their Intricate shapes formed by erosion of layers of rock of different types.

090227Bryce 112

Hoodoos are also called tent rocks, fairy chimneys and earth chimneys. Which is your favourite name?

Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah

These photos are all the same vista taken with wide angle to zoom at Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah, U.S.A.

Stolen!

Seal, Wells-next-the-Sea, Norfolk
This is not how I felt at the end of this journey.

Oh dear readers, are you sick and tired of hearing how we get it so badly wrong every time we travel or are you smugly pleased that it’s not you, that you’re not in this script?

‘It’s not here.’

‘It must be. Have we looked down here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it that one?’

‘No.’

‘Is it that one?’

‘No!’

’Did you check the number plate?’

‘YES!’

‘Maybe it’s in the workshop.’

‘Of course it’s not!’

‘Where is it then?’

‘It’s been stolen! Bl***y h***! It didn’t have any security fitted. The insurance won’t be valid.’

‘Surely the site has security and insurance,’ but I was talking to thin air as himself had gone looking for a third time in the same place hoping our new caravan/travel trailer/RV would magically appear.

I beetled off in the opposite direction to the storage facility office. Himself overtook me and burst through the doors.

I was reminded of the time our VW Golf disappeared overnight from its parking place in the little hill town of Vejer de la Frontera in Spain. The police had picked it up and plunked in down in a car park a 10 minute walk away. We were told the town council wanted to plant a palm tree where it had stood or were they playing a joke on los Inglés?

Meanwhile . . . . ‘I can’t find it!’ himself blurted out to a startled-looking receptionist who didn’t know who he was or what he was talking about.

A competent-looking woman with a clipboard stepped out of the office and stated calmly, ‘I’ll just see if it’s where I think it should be.’

Should?

She vanished out a side door and we stood dumbly uncertain for a moment then raced after her back to where we’d been looking. And there it was – all twenty-six feet of it. We must have walked and driven past it six times.

‘It wasn’t there five minutes ago,’ I said blithely to her. As her worry lines creased into a smile I realized that she’d been concerned too.

And that was just the start of the day.

We couldn’t get the hitch to engage or the jockey wheel to disengage. I would explain what that means but you’d glaze over and go find something interesting to read. Suffice it to say that a five minute job took an hour.

The journey was OK-ish but I was increasingly hating sitting on the wrong side of the vehicle. In our big American left-hand drive truck on roads originally for a right-hand drive horse and cart my driver was in the hedge and I was sat in the middle of the road. Every time the central cat’s eyes dunk, dunk, dunked under the truck wheels when the road narrowed I knew the caravan was encroaching at least a foot into the oncoming traffic – not funny on a blind bend. I got dizzy from holding my breath and my back is permanently kinked from leaning to the left to avoid imminent impact.

Chevy Silverado in its natural habitat.
Chevy Silverado in its natural habitat – wide road and on the right.

We made it to within five miles of our campsite and got lost. Himself stopped to read a sign that stated “Vehicles over 45 feet prohibited.” We are 45 feet, four inches. How do you turn a 45 foot four inch rig around on a single track road? You don’t. You swear loudly and repeatedly and carry on.

Looking for somewhere to just pull off the road and hyperventilate a bit we found ourselves parked outside a country post office – ideal for asking directions you’d think. They were lengthy, complicated and wrong and included a single-track humpback bridge with an S-bend. I closed my eyes and hoped not to hear a screeeech on the flint stone walls as we snaked through it.

There was, of course, no signal on our phones or the SatNav.

I’m not sure how we eventually found our way but we were leading a long parade when we turned off the road to the campsite six hours after leaving home for a 70 mile journey that became 95 miles – some of that excess in reverse.

Arriving tetchy, prickly, jittery, hungry, thirsty, weary and crabby we could have given the Seven Dwarves a run for their money. Attempting to set up on site we couldn’t get anything to work – electricity, gas, water, leveling, heating, fridge, cooker.

Chevy, caravan, Norfolk
A room with a view, but at what price to our psyches?

We blamed the dealer, the caravan, the campsite, the locals, the whole of the county of Norfolk and their roads and naturally each other for our woes but all the issues were simply down to our diminished mental capacities. I’m sure you could think of another word for it.

Though now washed, rested, warm, fed and as calm as I’ll ever be I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.

Sunset, Cley Church, Norfolk
A sunset to make it all worthwhile.

As pretty as a sunset . . . .

. . . . . sunrise at Long Key in the Florida Keys:

Long Key sunrise, Florida Keys

. . . . . and no I did not pop over there this morning. Photo taken December 2009. I knew, of course, that it would eventually come in handy for the WP photo challenge this week of Early Bird.

It wasn’t difficult to rouse myself for this photo op. I had the beach to myself, a lovely cup of tea and a spectacular show to watch put on by Mother Nature. The only problem was that the heat and humidity kept fogging my camera lens having just stepped out of the air-conditioned RV. Have you experienced that? It was a new one on me.