Category: Abba’s Art

“The mountains are calling and I must go.” – John Muir They weren’t calling, they were shouting!   Under balmy, 60 degree, sunny, February skies, a road trip was in order.  Switch-backing up through the Tennessee side of the Smokies, a graveyard of charred trees, blackened by the recent horrific fires,  presented a poignant reminder of man’s destructive fingerprints on creation.  Reaching a mile high,  we crossed the state…

My wife and I recently enjoyed a day with friends touring magnificent the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC. The opulence of the many sculptures, tapestries, carvings and paintings overwhelms the senses. Yet, perhaps my favorite spot is found meandering through the estate’s conservatory . . . this ‘ole’ dude could be content spending the rest of his days…

Watching tonight’s TV coverage of the Times Square New Year’s Ball Drop’ preparations got me to ‘a thinkin’  . . . isn’t it kinda’ oxymoronic? ‘Dropping the Ball’ is an epic celebratory event at Times Square, but in life it has totally different implications.   Whether it be fumbling a football in the end zone; fumbling…

Here’s a picture of Shellbee, our year-round, zero upkeep lead turtle perched securely upon a rock in our pond. Looking at her this morning, my mind began to wander, a frequent mental state so many of you so graciously tolerate. Shellbee’s is equipped with the original, quintessential mobile home – it grows in precise proportion…

Yesterday the Lord gave me a humbling experience. It was my privilege to join some men from church to help a man sort through the ruble of his home claimed by the devastating Gatlinburg, TN fire. A blackened, crumbling cinderblock foundation was all that remained standing. The sense of loss was nauseatingly palpable. The intense…

Each year at this time I stand at streamside in awe of the mystery unfolding before me . . . salmon returning thousands of miles from the uncharted reaches of the sea.  Their innate,  infallible GPS navigates them to the precise place in freshwater streams and ponds where they began life years ago.  Not a single…

Old Glory’s stars and stripes, the banner of the world’s most prosperous, powerful nation of which I was born under as a citizen.  The red stripes remind me of the blood my forefathers shed that made it possible for me to claim my American citizenship. Less than 4.4 % of this world’s ever expanding 7.4…

My son and I took off at sea level yesterday to traverse what the hiking guide aptly described as a “….difficult and strenuous….” trek up Bird Ridge, one of Alaska’s many magnificent mountains. An overcast sky accompanied by steady oceanic breezes kept temps in the ‘balmy’ 50s. My son’s 23 year old sports model frame…

Soooooo . . . once again I find myself gazing down on creation from 35,000 ft. . . . always inspiringly awesome! If only Wilbur and Orville could have envisioned what Kittyhawk would become. As customarily happens aboard an aluminum tube zooming through the clouds at 600 mph . . . it got me to…

Carved in a stone at the foot of our bridge are the words, “How lovely is the silence of growing things.” The beauty of this silence, so easily muted by the busy din of our everyday world, whispered softly to me as I meandered along the sun dappled stream this afternoon. Here’s a glimpse of the…