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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 05/10/2012
11:49
Que
» Omaha Lens

Quest for the Quintessential 'Que
Enjoyed good barbeque yesterday at Famous Dave's in Omaha, but it was not the quintessential barbeque that I'm searching for here in the Heartland. When visiting back home in Texas, I know the good spots for 'que, such as some of those in the city of Lockhart. It's worth driving miles out of way for those ribs, brisket and sausage. I've tried most, but not all the barbeque places in the Omaha area, so my quest contimues. After all, not much better for cooling down on hot summer days than sitting under the shade trees with friends and family enjoying tasty 'que, ice-cold beer and swapping a sea story or two.

Contributor to
ABC Wednesday
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 05/06/2012
10:49
Moon over the Missouri
» Omaha Lens

The sky was clear last evening in Omaha when the much-heralded "super moon" rose above the city. Here, walkers on the Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge over the Missouri River were treated to a view of its appearance just above the horizon.
Contributor to Sunday Bridges Weekly Top Shot Your Sunday Best Mellow Yellow Monday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 04/25/2012
10:49
O for Oysters on the Olympic Peninsula
» Omaha Lens

Just returned from the Washington coast and already missing the daily access to a bounty of fresh seafood there. One of the great places to visit on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state is Lake Quinault Lodge. We stopped there recently for lunch and a little reflection time while driving the US HWY 101 loop around the Olympic Nat'l Park. Small, exquisite Hood Canal oysters with sweet potato fries fit the bill for me that day while enjoying the view across Lake Quinault. President Franklin D. Roosevelt had lunch there himself back in the day and shortly after signed the Olympic National Park into existence.
Contributor toABC Wednesday
Weekly Top Shot

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 04/01/2012
15:49
Theme Day - Cobblestones
» Omaha Lens

The first day of each month is theme day for CDP bloggers and the subject for April is cobblestones. I have to fudge a little on this one since we are presently not in Nebraska. What I have in my laptop photo files that's pertinent to the theme are some pix from an earlier visit to Pompeii. So here then are perhaps the precursors to small, rounded cobblestones - very large, rounded stones used in the Roman Empire. This particular stone road in Pompeii is some two thousand years old. It and the entire city lay buried and forgotten after the Mt. Vesuvius eruption in 79 A.D. for about eighteen hundred years before excavation.
To see many different takes on the cobblestone theme today, click here.

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 03/15/2012
13:49
Northward Bound
» Omaha Lens

A new year and another migration for the Sandhill Cranes that amass here in Nebraska on their way north. About a half million of these large, graceful birds will stop to feed and rest along the Platte River during March and April before continuing their journey to nesting grounds in Canada and Alaska. For a quick glance at basic facts about this fascinating bird, check this link to the Rowe Bird Sanctuary.

Contributor to
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 03/09/2012
09:49
Sky Watch
» Omaha Lens

Addih-HiddischHidatsa Chief
American artist, John Coleman's bronze work, after Karl Bodner (Swiss, 1809-1893)
Joslyn Art Museum Sculpture Garden
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 03/01/2012
13:50
Theme Day - Electricity
» Omaha Lens

A quick ride down the slide brings a smile of wonder for our grandchild and just enough static electricity to fashion her new coiffure.
See many takes today on electricity from City Daily Photo bloggers around the world.Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

Contributor to
Weekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 01/20/2012
21:49
Winter Sky
» Omaha Lens

Morning reflection on the Missouri.
Contributor to Sky Watch FridayWeekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 01/10/2012
23:49
Day of the Raptor
» Omaha Lens

This is an image from a post I made several years ago when living in Washington state. It was an incredible encounter I had one day with wildlife in action while walking the beach in Port Townsend. I couldn't believe my luck when a bald eagle suddenly swooped down out the blue and attacked a river otter very close to where I was standing. I had only a pocket point and shoot which I fumbled out of my shirt, but got a few shots off as the eagle pounced from the top of the rock toward the otter, which had a fish in its jaws, at the bottom of the rock. The otter darted into the sea and out of sight just in time. It all happened so quickly I felt lucky to get even this, but it was an exciting few minutes, to be sure.
Contributor toWorld Bird Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 01/08/2012
07:49
Serpentine Connection
» Omaha Lens

A mild January with above freezing temps, made for a nice walk yesterday along the river at dawn. This is a view of the new pedestrian suspension bridge across the Missouri River. The graceful lines of the bridge were designed to reflect the winding flow of the river itself as it traverses some 2300 miles across the great plains of the US.

Contributor toSunday Bridges

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 01/05/2012
15:49
Reflections
» Omaha Lens

Reflection image pulled from the files of a trip to Rome.
Contributor to
Weekend Reflections Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/31/2011
22:49
Theme Day - Photo of the Year 2011
» Omaha Lens

A favorite image because it comes close to what I had hoped to capture that day. It was taken in the corn fields around the Platte River near Kearney, Nebraska where migrating Sandhill Cranes make a stopover every spring on their way north to Canada and Alaska. As all of us who enjoy photography know, lots of patience and a little luck are everything for getting decent shots in nature. So the challenge of getting close enough to the cranes while working the moon into the frame finally came together for a good picture or, at least, one that I liked.View the best photos of the year 2011 from City Daily Photo bloggers around the world. Click here to view thumbnails for all participants
Best wishes to everyone for a Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year!
Contributor toWorld Bird Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/28/2011
09:49
Happy Trails?
» Omaha Lens

A walk in the neighborhood with contrails across a pretty blue autumn sky.
For different views on the letter X today, visit Mrs. Nesbitt's delightful weekly meme, ABC Wednesday.

View wondrous skies from around the world at
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/23/2011
23:58
A Christmas Reading...
» Omaha Lens

...from our family to yours.

On Christmas eve or Christmas night, during the quieter moments in all the activity, our family traditionally gathers in the living room for a reading of this classic little story that captures the essence of a Christmas Day as remembered by Dylan Thomas. His memories are of a small town in Wales many years ago, but it has that universal thread that touches the very heart of childhood memories everywhere, whether real or imagined.
We wish you all peace and happiness now and in the coming year.

A Child's Christmas in Walesby Dylan Thomas
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.

All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.

It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands wrapped in socks, we waited to snowball the cats. Sleek and long as jaguars and horrible-whiskered, spitting and snarling, they would slink and sidle over the white back-garden walls, and the lynx-eyed hunters, Jim and I, fur-capped and moccasined trappers from Hudson Bay, off Mumbles Road, would hurl our deadly snowballs at the green of their eyes.

The wise cats never appeared. We were so still, Eskimo-footed arctic marksmen in the muffling silence of the eternal snows - eternal, ever since Wednesday - that we never heard Mrs. Prothero's first cry from her igloo at the bottom of the garden. Or, if we heard it at all, it was, to us, like the far-off challenge of our enemy and prey, the neighbor's polar cat. But soon the voice grew louder. "Fire!" cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong.

And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house; and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii. This was better than all the cats in Wales standing on the wall in a row. We bounded into the house, laden with snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room.

Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in the middle of the room, saying, "A fine Christmas!" and smacking at the smoke with a slipper. "Call the fire brigade," cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong. "There won't be there," said Mr. Prothero, "it's Christmas." There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting. "Do something," he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke - I think we missed Mr. Prothero - and ran out of the house to the telephone box. "Let's call the police as well," Jim said. "And the ambulance." "And Ernie Jenkins, he likes fires."

But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve. And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets, standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said, "Would you like anything to read?"

Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: "It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.""But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."

"Were there postmen then, too?" "With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells.""You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?""I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them." "I only hear thunder sometimes, never bells." "There were church bells, too." "Inside them?" "No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks. And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea. It seemed that all the churches boomed for joy under my window; and the weathercocks crew for Christmas, on our fence.""Get back to the postmen""They were just ordinary postmen, found of walking and dogs and Christmas and the snow. They knocked on the doors with blue knuckles ...." "Ours has got a black knocker...." "And then they stood on the white Welcome mat in the little, drifted porches and huffed and puffed, making ghosts with their breath, and jogged from foot to foot like small boys wanting to go out." "And then the presents?"

"And then the Presents, after the Christmas box. And the cold postman, with a rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs. "He wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot, and, by God, he was gone." "Get back to the Presents." "There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."

"Go on the Useless Presents." "Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell; never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet; and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy Hobbi-Games for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo! And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the balloons."

"Were there Uncles like in our house?" "There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas morning, with dog-disturbing whistle and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird by the Post Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires out. Men and women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles their stiff black jarring feathers against the irreligious snow. Mistletoe hung from the gas brackets in all the front parlors; there was sherry and walnuts and bottled beer and crackers by the dessertspoons; and cats in their fur-abouts watched the fires; and the high-heaped fire spat, all ready for the chestnuts and the mulling pokers. Some few large men sat in the front parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly, trying their new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms' length, returning them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups and saucers."

Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawn-bowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this time of year, with spats of snow, would take his constitutional to the white bowling green and back, as he would take it wet or fire on Christmas Day or Doomsday; sometimes two hale young men, with big pipes blazing, no overcoats and wind blown scarfs, would trudge, unspeaking, down to the forlorn sea, to work up an appetite, to blow away the fumes, who knows, to walk into the waves until nothing of them was left but the two furling smoke clouds of their inextinguishable briars.

Then I would be slap-dashing home, the gravy smell of the dinners of others, the bird smell, the brandy, the pudding and mince, coiling up to my nostrils, when out of a snow-clogged side lane would come a boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the violet past of a black eye, cocky as a bullfinch, leering all to himself.
I hated him on sight and sound, and would be about to put my dog whistle to my lips and blow him off the face of Christmas when suddenly he, with a violet wink, put his whistle to his lips and blew so stridently, so high, so exquisitely loud, that gobbling faces, their cheeks bulged with goose, would press against their tinsled windows, the whole length of the white echoing street.

For dinner we had turkey and blazing pudding, and after dinner the Uncles sat in front of the fire, loosened all buttons, put their large moist hands over their watch chains, groaned a little and slept. Mothers, aunts and sisters scuttled to and fro, bearing tureens. Auntie Bessie, who had already been frightened, twice, by a clock-work mouse, whimpered at the sideboard and had some elderberry wine. The dog was sick. Auntie Dosie had to have three aspirins, but Auntie Hannah, who liked port, stood in the middle of the snowbound back yard, singing like a big-bosomed thrush. I would blow up balloons to see how big they would blow up to; and, when they burst, which they all did, the Uncles jumped and rumbled. In the rich and heavy afternoon, the Uncles breathing like dolphins and the snow descending, I would sit among festoons and Chinese lanterns and nibble dates and try to make a model man-o'-war, following the Instructions for Little Engineers, and produce what might be mistaken for a sea-going tramcar.

Or I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements. "I bet people will think there's been hippos." "What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?" "I'd go like this, bang! I'd throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill and then I'd tickle him under the ear and he'd wag his tail." "What would you do if you saw two hippos?" Iron-flanked and bellowing he-hippos clanked and battered through the scudding snow toward us as we passed Mr. Daniel's house. "Let's post Mr. Daniel a snow-ball through his letter box." "Let's write things in the snow." "Let's write, 'Mr. Daniel looks like a spaniel' all over his lawn."

Or we walked on the white shore. "Can the fishes see it's snowing?" The silent one-clouded heavens drifted on to the sea. Now we were snow-blind travelers lost on the north hills, and vast dewlapped dogs, with flasks round their necks, ambled and shambled up to us, baying "Excelsior." We returned home through the poor streets where only a few children fumbled with bare red fingers in the wheel-rutted snow and cat-called after us, their voices fading away, as we trudged uphill, into the cries of the dock birds and the hooting of ships out in the whirling bay.

And then, at tea the recovered Uncles would be jolly; and the ice cake loomed in the center of the table like a marble grave. Auntie Hannah laced her tea with rum, because it was only once a year. Bring out the tall tales now that we told by the fire as the gaslight bubbled like a diver. Ghosts whooed like owls in the long nights when I dared not look over my shoulder; animals lurked in the cubbyhole under the stairs and the gas meter ticked.

And I remember that we went singing carols once, when there wasn't the shaving of a moon to light the flying streets. At the end of a long road was a drive that led to a large house, and we stumbled up the darkness of the drive that night, each one of us afraid, each one holding a stone in his hand in case, and all of us too brave to say a word. The wind through the trees made noises as of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men wheezing in caves. We reached the black bulk of the house.

"What shall we give them? Hark the Herald?" "No," Jack said, "Good King Wencelas. I'll count three." One, two three, and we began to sing, our voices high and seemingly distant in the snow-felted darkness round the house that was occupied by nobody we knew. We stood close together, near the dark door. Good King Wencelas looked out On the Feast of Stephen ... And then a small, dry voice, like the voice of someone who has not spoken for a long time, joined our singing: a small, dry, eggshell voice from the other side of the door: a small dry voice through the keyhole. And when we stopped running we were outside our house; the front room was lovely; balloons floated under the hot-water-bottle-gulping gas; everything was good again and shone over the town. "Perhaps it was a ghost," Jim said. "Perhaps it was trolls," Dan said, who was always reading. "Let's go in and see if there's any jelly left," Jack said. And we did that.

Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to bed.

Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/20/2011
16:49
What the Dickens?
» Omaha Lens

Every year in December the Old Market Arts and Entertainment district gives Omahans a treat before Christmas. It's called Dickens in the Market, which is a day filled with Victorian era characters and performers strolling the streets and shops of the Old Market. One might see Ebenezer and Marley or English country dancers or joyful carolers and festive horse drawn carriages about the streets. For more images of people enjoying Dickens in the Market this year, click here.
ABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/06/2011
20:51
Underway
» Omaha Lens

Migrating Sandhill Cranes
Sky Watch Friday
ABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/03/2011
19:49
Sunday Bridges
» Omaha Lens

Multnomah Falls on the Oregon side of the Columbia River Gorge,
a spectacular river canyon in the Pacific Northwest of the U.S.The falls drops in two major steps, an upper falls of 542 feet and a lower falls of 69 feet, with a gradual drop in elevation between the two, so the total height of the waterfall is conventionally given as 620 feet.
A foot trail leads to the Benson Footbridge, shown above, that allows visitors to cross the falls
and continue on a trail up to the summit that overlooks the Columbia River.From Wiki, an updated footnote about the nearly one hundred year old bridge:
In 1995, a 400 ton boulder fell 225 feet (69 m) from the face of the waterfall into the pool above Benson Bridge. It caused a 70-foot (21 m) splash of water and gravel to wash over the footbridge, which in turn caused minor injuries to a wedding party that happened to be on it for photos at the time.
Sooo, heads up!

View more bridges around the world todayat Louis' Sunday Bridges

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 12/01/2011
16:49
December Dawn
» Omaha Lens

Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 11/28/2011
18:49
'tis the time each year...
» Omaha Lens

... each year when Snoopy and Woodstock join me in wishing you, blogger friends around the world, all the very best in the holiday season!
ABC Wednesday
Macro Monday Mellow Yellow Monday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 11/19/2011
23:49
Sunday Bridges
» Omaha Lens

A jogger catches the warming rays of a summer sunrise on the the Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge across the Missouri River. The bridge connects downtown Omaha, Nebraska and the city of Council Bluffs, Iowa with miles of paved trails on both sides of the river.The painting in the distance is mural artist, Meg Saligman's rendering of Omaha history called, Fertile Ground.

See more bridges today at Louis' Sunday Bridges

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 11/18/2011
07:49
Happiness is...
» Omaha Lens

A quick snap of our golden, Dutch, in his favorite seat for traveling. Seen here arriving at Memorial Park for fun and games. Indeed, a happy hound!
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 11/09/2011
15:49
Q for Quill, Question, Quotation
» Omaha Lens

A lone feather found along the trail may make us wonder about what we know not.

"For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself
and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.”
― Loren Eiseley, The Immense Journey

Contributor toABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 11/04/2011
12:49
Autumn in the Park
» Omaha Lens

Reflection in the lagoon downtown.

Contributor to
Weekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 11/01/2011
12:50
Atop the Volcano
» Omaha Lens

A magnificent spring morning provided this panoramic view on the trail up to the crater rim of Mt. Vesuvius.
Fences is the theme for CDP bloggers today. Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

Contributor to
Sky Watch FridayABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 10/31/2011
22:50
Spooky Things
» Omaha Lens

"Twas brillig, and the slithy tovesDid gyre and gimble in the wabe;All mimsy were the borogoves,And the mome raths outgrabe."
Lewis Carroll

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 10/28/2011
13:49
Salud!
» Omaha Lens

A day at the flea market in Brownville, Nebraska.
Weekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 10/27/2011
13:49
" ...for spacious skies"
» Omaha Lens

Sunrise walk along the river downtown.
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 10/13/2011
13:49
Sky Watch
» Omaha Lens

A look up toward a blazing-hot summer sky from inside a cool, dark kiva built into the earth. This image was taken on a visit to Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado where ruins of the ancient Pueblo Indian culture are found, which included the kiva or ceremonial rooms still used by some Indian cultures today. More about the evolution of the kiva can found here on Wiki.

The Weekend in Black and WhiteSky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 10/07/2011
23:49
Reflections on a Pond
» Omaha Lens

We are all travelers in the wilderness of the world, and the best that we can find
in our travels is an honest friend. Robert Louis Stevenson

Weekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 10/06/2011
15:50
Autumn Evening
» Omaha Lens

An early October sunset in Memorial Park
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/30/2011
12:50
Full Moon
» Omaha Lens

The Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge

Contributor to
Sunday Bridges
The Weekend in Black and White
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/27/2011
13:49
K for Kaneko
» Omaha Lens

Jun Kaneko is a Japanese ceramic artist who resides and primarily works in Omaha. This summer over 50 of his massive works have been exhibted in Omaha's Lauritzen Botanical Gardens. His prolific roster of diverse work appears in numerous international solo and group exhibitions annually. His work is included in more than forty museum collections and has been honored with national, state and organization fellowships and an honorary doctorate from the Royal College of Art in London. Learn more about Kaneko here.
Contributor to Mrs Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/15/2011
18:48
Sunset Silhouettes
» Omaha Lens

The Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge across the Missouri provides walkers a great platform for viewing a glowing sunset on a warm summer evening.

Contributor to Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/12/2011
17:49
Bougainvillea
» Omaha Lens

Contributor to Macro Monday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/11/2011
11:49
In Memory
» Omaha Lens

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/10/2011
15:49
In the Park
» Omaha Lens

A little serenity on a summer's day downtown.

Weekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 09/07/2011
17:49
H for Hats
» Omaha Lens

Recent visits to the Old Market district in downtown Omaha. Seems to me people are wearing hats more than usual. A fashion trend, I wonder?
Contributor to ABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 08/20/2011
08:49
Rainy Market Morning
» Omaha Lens

Contributor toWeekend ReflectionsandThe Weekend in Black and White

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 08/17/2011
15:49
Elevation
» Omaha Lens

Nebraska Balloon and Wine Festival
Contributor to Sky Watch FridayABC Wednesday
A sad farewell to Klaus Peter, 1960-2011

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 08/12/2011
19:50
Reflection at the Car Show
» Omaha Lens

A shiny 1939 Lincoln Zephur Coupe reflects the grounds and cars around the Joslyn Castle estate during its annual classic car show.
Weekend Reflections

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 08/11/2011
16:48
Sky Watch
» Omaha Lens

Farmlands near Barada, Nebraska full with corn and sky.
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 08/04/2011
14:49
Castle Classics
» Omaha Lens

Joslyn Castle Classic Car ShowCaught this spring sky reflected in the headlamp of a classic 1933 DeSoto Coupe on the lawn of Joslyn Castle, a beautiful estate in Omaha.
Contributor to ABC Wednesday and Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 08/01/2011
09:49
Theme Day - Postcard Worthy
» Omaha Lens

Once again it's the first day of the month and time for a CDP theme, which this time is "postcard worthy."
Today's image is of a Scarlet Macaw in the Lied Jungle of Omaha's Henry Doorly Zoo. The zoo is cited as one of the best in the country and is Omaha's top attraction for visitors.
Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/29/2011
09:49
River Watch
» Omaha Lens

The Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge across the Missouri Riverfrom Omaha, Nebraska to Council Bluffs, Iowa.An early morning walk along the river in Omaha reveals a swollen, turbulent Missouri which has been overrunning its floodplains this summer with disasterous effects to farmlands and communities.
Contributor to Sunday Bridges Weekend Reflections Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/21/2011
21:49
Adios, Tejas
» Omaha Lens

Sunrise on Corpus Christi Bay Had a wonderful month of fun and sun on the gulf coast of Texas, but now it's time to head the buggy back home.Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/20/2011
19:50
A is for Abandoned
» Omaha Lens

Found this large sandcastle on Mustang Island beach in Texas on the morning after the July 4th festivities. It was large enough for several small children to play in and probably provided great fun during the whole weekend, but now it seemed so sad and deserted.
Contributor to Mrs Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday communityandNancy's Your Sunday Best

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/16/2011
10:48
Beach Watch
» Omaha Lens

More fun and sun this week on the Texas gulf coast. With a brace of hounds at her side, this beach walker steps into the bright reflection of the morning sun over Padre Island..
Contributor to James' Weekend Reflections and
Dragonstar's The Weekend in Black and White

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/15/2011
08:49
Sunrise on the Bay
» Omaha Lens

A shrimp trawler working the edge of Corpus Christi Bay draws a crowd of gulls and pelicans looking for breakfast. Buying the morning catch off the boats when they come in, is one of our regular delights while visiting here on the Texas coast.
Sky Watch Friday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/12/2011
10:50
Z is for zzzzzz
» Omaha Lens

Catching some zzzzzzs and sun by the seaside.Continuing our stay on the Texas coast.
Contributor to ABC Wednesday

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Nebraska blogs (US-NE), 07/09/2011
10:50
Life at the Beach
» Omaha Lens

Black skimmers working the shore of Mustang Island on the Texas coast.
As noted in Wikipedia, "Skimmers have a light graceful flight, with steady beats of their long wings. They feed usually in large flocks, flying low over the water surface with the lower mandible skimming the water (in order of importance) for small fish, insects, crustaceans and molluscs^[2] caught by touch by day or especially at night. They spend much time loafing gregariously on sandbars in the rivers, coasts and lagoons they frequent."Weekend Reflections and Your Sunday Best

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