"Landscape of a Third Kind"

...aaaaand now, here's some art!

The Fence is Always Grayer on the Other Side

My boss asked me today, "When you were in Iraq, what did you miss the most?"

I thought for a moment, and replied without hesitation "My car."

I love my car, but in all honesty it's really not much to miss compared to the $500,000 vehicles I was driving around in the sandbox, and I think you'd agree if you could see it.

But what I really missed was the freedom it represented to me at the time. We all stand on one side of the fence, and gaze longingly at the grass on the other, completely assured of it's superiority. We really don't resent the grass on our side, but the sole virtue of the fence is to make you desire anything it separates you from. We can jump from one side to the other our entire lives without ever realizing that it's rarely the grass that changes, it's the view through fence that so often contorts our perceptions.

Now I drive my car, and for some reason (hmm, what could it be?) I find the motorcycle that my parents passed down to me as my new symbol of freedom. It's been something of a trial assaulting an assortment of obstacles that stand in the way of my enjoyment of the bike, and it's still going to be a little while yet before it's ready for the road. All this only heightens my anticipation of the freedom I believe that I'll find while straddling the ironside of the "Thumper." 

Will the grass actually be greener this time? Maybe it doesn't matter. Perhaps it's just about the thrill of jumping back and forth like an addle-brained fool, and the resulting bruises and splinters that remind us that we're human.

Riding the "Thumper" a couple of years back. I had just wrecked it into a barbed-wire fence a few moments before this photo was taken - as evidenced by my shredded clothing.

Revival

This smell of happy Earth,
A damp and misty morning revival.
Fall leaves dying as they give birth
To hues no artist could rival.

The rain fell throughout the night
Over dry and cracked dirt;
In soothing whispers, all things aright,
And heal what drought has hurt.

The dead-fields now shall prosper,
And Farmer's late yields increase.
Goodwill between all is fostered
As all partake in the cloud's release.

God gives in seasons fair
Strengthens in seasons grim.
Through our struggles, He's always there,
And all good flows from Him.