ROSE ON THE MOUNTAINS. Please Help End Mountain Top Removal Mining by Stephen Craig Rowe

Though I have lived most of my adult life in cities, towns, and the farm. I was blessed as a child with a deep abiding love and respect for nature. Have never lived in the mountains but have visited them east and west in the USA, plus while living in Europe I became in awe of the lure and beauty of the mountains. As a city slicker I have read about strip mining for coal and did not think much about it until I only recently learned of mountain top removal mines. I was in shock, my mind turned white as a ghost as my Irish began turning red at the thought of anyone blowing the top of a mountain off for monitary gain. How and why would anyone do such a thing?

Have the bloody bastards no conscience? I fear not.

Did a bit of research and found some good people that are about the cause of ending and preventing Mountaintop removal mining. The rose is a symbol of love, respect and care for the mountains and the betterment of all. Please take a moment of your time to explore the following links and to see what part you can be to end this crime against nature and humanity.

http://ilovemountains.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mountain_top_removal

http://www.mountainjusticesummer.org/facts/steps.php

Thank you, and as ever be well,

Stephen Craig Rowe

Post Script: Special thanks to Kathryn Magendie

http://www.tendergraces.blogspot.com/

http://www.kathrynmagendie.com/

ROSES OF SPRING

The roses of spring have graced my garden with color, fragrance and a small quiet joy. 
As ever be well,
Stephen Craig Rowe

Rain, Flowers and Stones by Stephen Craig Rowe

Rain flowers and stones were April's travels on the road and in the wings.  Before dawn I curl up in a back seat of a van turn up my collar and try to sleep away the ride with prayers and strangers.  Old soldiers not bound for glory these days as the trips are to Veteran's Hospitals.  My first trip in April was a day trip to Danville, Il. for a visit to the palliative care unit at the VA Medical Center.  The unit was clean, well appointed and the staff caring and compitent.  Prior to my appointment I was asked to wait in a day room with other patients.  I was the only person in the day room not in a wheel chair or bed hooked up with IV's and breathing devices.  This was clearly a place for those on their last legs or no legs as the case may be moaning and staring blindly at nothing on the television.  Not my cup of tea as it were thinking about those poor old boys so strong then and so weak and helpless fading away.  I thought about my grandfather, father, Army friends and thought about running away, then my name was called for a brief interview with the Dr.  We talked about my case, what Palliative Care was about the Hospice Program and such.  I want nothing to do with this as I would rather crawl into the woods or take a bottle of gin to a whore house for my end of days than drool about running on empty in some hospital. 

I have things to do I thought as I left the unit.  Paintings to paint, bad poetry to write, maybe books or a novel one day.  Then took a walk on the grounds and looked at the sky.
The second trip was a three day trip to Danville with a day trip to Indianapolis for a super CT Scan to determine the nature of my ills that did not.  A meeting with my surgeon in Indy was good and have a feeling that this Dr. has it all together but that may be another story.  We shall see. 
The third trip to Danville and Indy in April was in the last week for a scope and another biopsie.  Should have the pathology report within a few days.  Oh, this last trip was a three day visit away and it was rainy and cool for the most part but I did get to walk the stones. 
When I am away I do talk to people, but not much.  Tend to let them do the talking and I just listen until I have to kindly walk away and be about my own.  Help when I can and do what I do and do it well.  Pushing old hippie dudes in wheelchairs, talking stuff, looking people in the eyes as they tell me.  When I look them in the eyes they see.
Late in the afternoon I went to the Danville National Cemetery  and walked the stones again. 
Alone in the stones
No life in sight
the White on green
rows grow and fold
upon the other rows of
White Stones.
Each one a Soldier,
Veteran, Hero,
Family history.
Honor for my hand and eyes
to touch the stones
as I
Walk the Stones
alone in silence and
Snap to attention
give a crisp
Salute.
As ever be well,
Stephen Craig Rowe

THE GREEN WALL A Walk Of Words By Stephen Craig Rowe

The effort of the lands and hands that ever try to lay back the green are but a false hope.  A half filled sand bag thrown into raging flood waters ever rising and quenching earths deep thirst to draw man beyond the madness of holding her. 

Translating the tides to fit a neat bit for a short time only is as selfish a task as drinking the whole cold creek dry.

For a time.  And the old world had no blinds or walls or words.

When the green was the garden of all and creatures had no walls to wait for the slash and burn.

Old worn hands and faces, generations of walls, wailing streets, sad windows and fences will never hold back the green walk of words

well spent

For there are no walls to hold back the green.

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe 

ROSES AND RAIN

Rosas e chuva, o amor ea primavera. Como poderia ter um amor sem rosas e os pensamentos de primavera? Alguns podem amar sozinho sem rosas e alguns podem amar sozinho sem mola macio arrefecer chuvas chill para a ecologização e contentamento. Como eu


andou a névoa cinzenta na cabeça fletida orações húmido passos

chamou-me de volta para sombras. Luz em profundidade

e no tranco caminharam as palavras. Pensamento as palavras que a poesia andou com

mim.

Em uma curiosa fundir de arte, auto, um lugar calmo no Todos e

Eu queria fugir.

Para mergulhar na rosas e amor, para a neblina ea ecologização

para as estações do ano e ver que apenas sonhos

Sonhos vista

uma rápida imagem de um tempo um pouco como um poema

ou oração

silencioso gasto na névoa.

As árvores no cume parecia onda, um pouco como se a brisa suave, o drizzle menos de um calafrio, e eu corri para a chuva

Já de regresso.

Como sempre estar bem, com amor,

Stephen Craig Rowe

ROSES AND RAIN

Roses and rain, love and spring. How could one have love without roses and thoughts of spring? Some may love alone without roses and some may love alone without spring soft cool rains chill to the greening and glee. As I


walked the grey mists in head bent prayers damp steps

drew me back to shadows. Light in depth

and in stride walked the words. Thought the words as the poetry walked with

me.

In a curious meld of art, self, a quiet place in the All and

I wanted to run.

To dive into the roses and love, into the mist and the greening

into the seasons and view dreams that only

Dreams view

one fast frame at a time rather like a poem

or prayer

silent spent in the mist.

The trees on the ridge seemed to wave, a bit as the breeze became soft, the drizzle less of a chill, and I ran into the rain

Ever to return.

As ever be well, with love,

Stephen Craig Rowe

IN THE LIGHT

This holiday and holyday weekend I wish all a very good, meaningful, happy Easter and Passover.  May you ever be in the Light.  Please read full item here  http://paintingstudio.spaces.live.com/ 

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

Nine Roses The Garden by Stephen Craig Rowe

Several years ago I cut some roses from my little garden and arrainged them in a champaigne flute.  Then waited for just the right light with my Cannon T50 hovering on the tripod.  When the classic composition was properly framed and the early evening light seemed to shimmer just for a moment.  I held my breath and let the shutter fly.  Later that evening at World Famous Big Al's I placed the flute of roses on the stage for a favored exotic dancer.  As she thanked me for the roses and told me how beautiful they were I saw happy tears sparkle in her eyes and smiled.

Yesterday afternoon I was able to spend some time in the small garden taking on some lite tasks of weeding and cutting back stems that winter was not kind to.  Tend to cut away the brown down to the green just above a tiny sprout.  My landlord dropped by and we made some small talk.

" Did they make it through the winter "?  He asked pointing to the roses.

" Eight of the nine did.  Don't see any signs of the JFK rose ".

" We don't have much luck with roses.  How was your trip to the VA Medical Center in Danville"?

" Mostly routine.  Lab works, a follow up interview with the surgeon, another CT scan and a visit with the wound care nurse".  It had been only 32 days since my operation I thought.  Then said,

" Will know more after the CT scan in Indianapolis later this month.  The scanner there is more advanced than the one in Danville and after the scan will meet with the radiology-oncology team".

" Hope things go well in Indy".  He said and left me to my gardening.

Time spent in the garden to me is rather like taking a walk in the woods or getting into a good book when all the trouble and strife of the world fades as one's focus is on the intricate beauty of life and thoughts are kind as they wander within and without. 

I did promise my dear friend Riette from Port Edward, South Africa a photo of the front of my house.  It is early spring and this morning is grey.  The shot was taken about an hour ago and is rather stark but as summer comes so do the hanging baskets and pots of flowers to brighten the porch.  The rest of the photographs are of the young roses and some signs of life from my walk on Saturday April 4th.

This just in from http://bobdylan.com/ 

Listen to "Feel A Change Comin' On"

From Bob Dylan's new album

TOGETHER THROUGH LIFE

http://video.newsweek.com/#?t=18540585001&l=25152707

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe