
Early morning sky
Willy Nelson would be “On the road again!” Well! Here I am in a rut again.

Trail under tree or tree over trail?

Moon on the verge of fullness

I see critters in the clouds


Intermission

Dusk

Owl at dusk



Can you spot Venus?
While walking in a dark forest in southern Germany on March 15th, I was caught in a sudden cold and violent storm a mile from home. As I trudged through the trees, my boots sinking into the soggy soil, I heard the faint cries of spirits and the mournful lamentations of ghosts swirling through the trees. The cold wind carried their complaints about a dark and violent past through the forest, still echoing sadness about the state of the world. As I scraped mud from my boots and wrung out the rain from my soaked hair, I bid farewell to the ghosts of the forest’s dark past, leaving them outdoors to their eternal lament.
The lyrics are a mixture of English and archaic Goth (somewhat reminiscent of Latin), which seemed appropriate after getting caught in a violent storm in a dark, ancient forest in southern Germany. The chorus is archaic Goth, and the bridge and outro are the translation of the chorus. The pre-outro, or second bridge, is the translation of the Goth used in the third verse.

Pre-dawn

Sunrise

Sunset
Thoughts Turned Cold
Timothy Price
[Verse 1]
Thoughts turned cold, face stung by frozen rain
Plagent wind lamented years of weltschmerz
Checked the date, indeed, the Ides of March march on
[Verse 2]
Archaic thoughts fall into foggy bottoms
Like dark matter filling ancient voids
Persistent question placed on repeat
Oh my god, what have they done?
What have they done?
[Pre-Chorus]
As steps sank into soggy soil, sad spirits sang
[Chorus – Archaic Goth]
Weltschmerz ululant repline mit plangor keen
Susurrate atrabilious lacrimonias pang
Misosophy atramentous luctiferous ainamma jah allaim
[Bridge -Translation of the chorus]
A melancholic sadness about the state of the world
Let out a loud cry to feel a sorrowful discontent
With a loud lemanting wail for the dead
Whispers meloncholic full of tears reget
Hatred of wisdom black as ink bringing sorrow to one and all
[Verse 3]
Scraped spirits off my boots, ploration in querimonious woe
Wrung Nixie from my hair, Kelpie slid to Undine slabs dispersing under foot
Shut the door leaving gasts outdoors, tenebrific exanclate
[Pre-Chorus]
Steps sank into soggy soil, sad spirits sang
[Chorus]
Weltschmerz ululant repline mit plangor keen
Susurrate atrabilious lacrimosa pang
Misosophy atramentous luctiferous ainamma jah allaim
[Pre-Outro – Translation of verse 3]
Loud weeping with complaints of great sorrow
Water spirits shape-shift to elemental ghosts
Making darkness, struggling through suffering
[Outro]
A melancholic sadness about the state of the world
Let out a loud cry to feel sorrowful discontent
With a loud lemanting wail for the dead
Whispers meloncholic full of tears reget
Hatred of wisdom black as ink bringing sorrow to one and all

Speaking of memories, while looking to see if I had taken photos of old paintings of women in gowns in various art gallaries in Paris, France back in 2013, I came across some photos I had forgotten about.



Laurie between the lines, braving the traffic in front of the Arc de Triomphe de l’Étoile.

A pair of lost soles on a bridge over the Seine.









Laurie once again between the lines, braving the traffic.

Napoleon’s horse was as dinky as he was.






A Seagull flying around above Paris

The Ginsburg family plot in the Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris. Serge Gainsbourg was a famous singer and is still loved, as you can see from the flowers, metro tickets, and the lipstick kisses on his grave marker. Laurie left a metro ticket, also.
I was thinking about how the memory of the present is easily lost in the shuffle. The future is unpredictable other than the inevitable, but the past has a certain clarity. Stories from the past want to be told, but as memories from the present become lost, so does that last time the stories were told, creating a new personal paradigm — the stories will be told over and over and over and over again.

Dawn


pTerodactyl at dawn
Stories Told A Million Times
By Timothy Price
[Verse 1]
Eyes no longer see the glory
Unable to focus on the future
They dwell on the past
Distant memories from years gone by
[Chorus]
Have I ever told you the story…
Yes, dear, you have. A million times…
How about the time I…
Yes, dear, you have!
[Verse 2]
Experiences lived years ago
Are as clear as yesterday
While yesterday seems a distant past
Long forgotten, swallowed by the mist
[Chorus]
Have I ever told you the story…
Yes, my friend. A million times…
How about the time I…
Yes, my friend, you have!
[Bridge]
Mind goes numb
Speech grows dumb
Stories once told
Now on repeat
Played over, and over
And over again
[Chorus]
Have I ever told you the story…
Yes, grandpa. A million times…
How about the time I…
Yes, grandpa, you have!
[Outro]
Will you remember my stories told
When I’ve passed on, dead and gone?
Stories told a million times
Do they get retold or die with the old
Buried and lost to the living
Told and retold among the dead
I was inspired to write and record “Sunrise Superman” from my early morning walks with Jake.

Dawn





Sunrise
Jake and I had walked over a mile south of where I took the first photo of dawn before the sun began to rise.
Sunrise Superman
By Timothy Price
[Verse 1]
Sunrise Superman, twilight’s spy
Captures color with bedazzled eyes
In love, he Kisses Dawn’s pink blue skies
Silence broken by cranes’ cracked cries
[Chorus]
Sunrise Superman in love with dawn
Sunrise Superman twilight’s spawn
Sunrise Superman the day is drawn
Kryptonite clouds, they fade, they’re gone
[Verse 2]
Daybreak’s twighlight starts the day
Consumed by dawn along the way
Passes colors, pink, red, and gray
The light of blue has the final say
[Chorus]
Sunrise Superman in love with dawn
Sunrise Superman twilight’s spawn
Sunrise Superman the day is drawn
Kryptonite clouds, they fade, they’re gone
[Bridge]
Light breaks the darkness
Spawns colors bright
Sun peeks from under covers
Yawns big and stretches
Throwing rays far and wide
Into the the deep blue heavens
The Dead go back to bed
While goodness, forms awakens
[Outro]
Sunrise Superman in love with dawn
Sunrise Superman twilight’s spawn
Sunrise Superman the day is drawn
Kryptonite clouds, they fade, they’re gone

Dawn after the flash flood


Snow Egret caught a fish for breakfast



Another lost sole


Big Gulp


A lost soul, perhaps

The dark line on the opposite bank is the flash flood line, about 6 feet (two meters) above the current natural flow of the river.

Turtle tracks

The moon will be full tomorrow night, but we have not seen it the last few nights because of clouds.

Another Dawn



pTerodactyl tracks


A broken back lying on the riverbed at dawn

Spunk