SNYDERMANIA: Hoop Tree

Friday, May 7, 2010

Hoop Tree

I took this picture in Prescott a couple of months ago.
There was something about the juxtaposition of the hoop against the tree that pretty much blew my mind...

5 comments:

Anonymous said...: Great picture.

There's a little something on my blog for you :); May 7, 2010 at 5:37 PM
Momma Fargo said...: Way cool! You have great eyes. That sounds a little creepy, but I meant because of your artistic sense.; May 7, 2010 at 8:07 PM
Blues said...: It's got a bit of a nudge of "nature and man", and then realizing that a ball in a hoop is one of the most basic natural things in physics (hinting at mass/gravity relation of planets, stars, atoms etc., which actually in the creational process form treelike structures; e.g. the astronomical "Pillars of Creation").
I like it!; June 6, 2010 at 11:43 PM
#167 Dad said...: This comment has been removed by the author.; June 7, 2010 at 9:32 AM
#167 Dad said...: Thanks Blues,
I like the way you describe it. Couldn't have done better myself.; June 7, 2010 at 4:50 PM

NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?