Art Ranger is back

Dear ones of the Department of Homeland Inspiration,
Thank you for compelling us back to the station where we aspire to open doors toward seeing Art/ART/art as it unfolds by chance in the everloving world around us.  The equinox has passed and Art Ranger has by now laundered her ranger shirt and souled her shoe - she scouts the earth waning and waxing for your images and participation. Please feel free to send some to FAF@homelaninspiration.org or forward this bloggling on to other humans.

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While at large over the summer, Art Ranger accumulated notes of certain  moments and not others that we now finally dare to share with you few who read below the fold (or scrolled):
Prelude:  Quote from Gertrude Stein's "The making of the making of Americans ", 1924
I write for myself and strangers. This is the only way that I can do it. Everybody is a real one to me, everybody is like someone else to me too ..............

Contributed by Richard Anthony in Austin

Snapshots stored in "notes":

One boy rejects the sunscreen due to the word emollient. 

the other texts saying “don’t use words like rational”

We consume the perfect peach reaching its full flavor pinnacle due to natural causes; 
Or, a strawberry entirely unmarred by life on the road.

he grew this

The young one drapes long arms over newly hairy longer legs on a

bench that looks now small.

 We got to dine with the American Legion because great Uncle Billy made glass eyeballs during WWII.

Tiny birds grow feathers

Morning is gray

We bought some other animal’s ribs to eat

A company called “the ageless male” was giving away free testosterone samples on Independence Day  - a consolation prize

For safe and sane fireworks

Three dead fish in an orange shoebox

for waaay too long

partched plants

we forgot to eat them

the sugar snap peas, with knuckles

a small black and white animal came to ruin

our life – temporarily

The fridge may never be brought back to the smell of white

swimming is how to pretend you are another animal

We bought a fat book called “CAPITAL in the twenty first century” that we will never exactly read

More Fish were caught and released, otherwise the vacation

would have been a bust

The matriarch, her emotions stretched thin like the skin on her shins

At home home, deer consumed our lovingly tended garden and victory shat on the driveway

Then there’s summer when it wanes

The basil bolts for the bees

All halted abruptly by the smell of new yellow pencil

Photo by Jim Lindenthal

One who left the nest

we bought him grey sheets, sand colored towels,

Tears in the can opener aisle spill over his release

Into the middle wilds of college 

The Math Department on vacation

We ate animal patties on the side of a windy road

While the world erupted again- and picked its same scabs

Elegant trees leaned home
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