Self-Portrait

ru·mi·na·tionPronunciation: "rü-m&-'nA-sh&n Function: noun: the act or process of ruminating:

a : the act or process of regurgitating and chewing again previously swallowed food

b : obsessive or abnormal reflection upon an idea or deliberation over a choice


This is me, metaphorically speaking --

Annie Oddflower

Outstanding In Her Field
Heifer Division
World Class Ruminator

(That’s what the trophy would say, if they gave trophies for such a thing.)

I took two cow portraits on my photo excursion to Pecan Island before the storm, and I love them both. But thanks to Rita, Pecan Island is not the same as it was when I took these photos (no one lives there anymore). I don’t know if this heifer survived the storm. And that makes me sad.

I’ve been ruminating too much lately, contemplating dead cows, wayward children, going back to school, running away, loss, and, to quote the definition above, I’ve just been “generally obsessive” and guilty of too much “abnormal reflection upon an idea or deliberation over a choice”.

It’s tough, being a person who thinks too much and does too little.

My Front Door

(with the addition of a quote by Plato)

Creative Day

I've been working on a journal for a friend. Maybe I'll change the name of the journals from "Butt-Ugly Journals" to "Annie's Oddflower Journals".

Chip Off the Old Block

Looks like an owl? Or a really cool person wearing a pair of glasses?

I've Been Thinking

I can explain the crabby haiku, really I can. I’ve been thinking about all the trees that have fallen, thinking about the light that will be let in as a result of those trees being down, and feeling a little guilty for not being grateful for the sunshine.





And I’ve been thinking about myself, and how pleased I am to see these shadow portraits of myself, how that is just enough of me to be revealed, and how afraid I am of allowing myself to be clearly seen.

I’ve been thinking about how things of beauty can be hidden behind crusty and hardened exteriors, and you can never even know it.

I’ve been thinking how it feels to be busted wide open, to have a hidden beauty exposed in such a violent way.

I’ve been thinking about the beauty that sometimes comes from the storms we weather.

I’ve been thinking of the need to be grateful, both in sunshine and in shadow.

Befores and Afters

These are photos taken around the area where we evacuated, in rural Louisiana, near Six Mile Creek, close to Dido Community.

I spent some time Friday evening before the storm came walking around and taking pictures of my grandparent's house. I had no thoughts that the old house would be any different after the storm. I was just playing around with the patterns of light and enjoying fond memories.


This is what we always called the water shelf. Back in the day, a galvanized bucket filled with drinking water was kept here. There was a ladle in the bucket to drink from.


The tree hit the roof of the porch in about the same place I was standing the day before while taking pictures.


Notice the door? It is the one I have on my blog profile.

This is the breaking point of the tree that fell on the porch of my grandparent's house. It really didn't get uprooted. The top of the tree was twisted away from the bottom of the tree.

If a tree falls in the front yard and no one is awake to hear it, does it still make a noise? Apparently not. We all slept through the fall.


When the winds died down Saturday afternoon and we went out to see the sights, this crazy dog (his name is Junior, Senor) walked right up the trunk of this tree like he had been doing it all his life. It is hard to tell, but he is about ten feet off the ground.


I kid you not, I do not make these names up!

Ah well, life does go on.

Blogging From My House!

We finally have phone service again! I am not sure how long my computer will hold out. It is not making the noise it was making earlier, so I am hoping it was just a fluke and there really isn't anything wrong with it. Here are a few photos taken after we came home on the first of October.


The cedar tree that took out our mailbox.
I became fond of taking pictures of my shadow.

This was probably done by a tornado that came through after the storm.

Looks like a giant weed-whacker came through and lopped off the tops of these trees.



This is a building I pass every morning on the way to work.

The fence to the local university's baseball field.

The sign on the roof advertises home-cooking, breakfast and lunch.

Every street has debris piled at the curb.