idaho — Page 3

Babes in the Woods

July 22, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

Three months ago, M and I decided to do a trip in Talulah in the month of July. I’m just now home from that trip. I haven’t been so lean, so brown, so blond, so FULL in a long while!!!

Can’t wait to tell you all about it!

In the meanwhile,

do some wonderful living this weekend,

my fine feathered friends!

x

Filed Under: idaho, sawtooths, talulah

Getting Closer To Home

July 4, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

I like to visit the wheat,

up and over the mountains,

down in the Arbon Valley —

especially during the gentle, summertime, evening hours

when the world seems gold plated

and breath bated.

It’s a pretty darn beautiful thing.

Filed Under: german shorthair pointers, girl in a truck, idaho, summer, wheat

Ode To Plumbelina:

June 8, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

She can run so fast because she has fairy dust in her fur.

She’s crazy.

She’s batcrap crazy.

But I still love her.

When she’s ugly, boy howdy, is she ever ugly.

But when she’s pretty…

…she’s the prettiest of all.

I think she’s the perfect girl for Farley.
Do you agree, Robbie?
This post is mostly for you, my love.
She’s bigger now.
x

Filed Under: german shorthair pointer, idaho, Plumbelina, portneuf river

God’s Country

June 3, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

When I woke up this morning, my soul felt magnificent,

like four million fire opals blazing in moonlight.

At seven thousand feet above the sea,

my spirit is so full,

it’s aerial.

Filed Under: bannock, german shorthaired pointers, idaho, pocatello, rocky mountains, the fire of the soul, the flight of the spirit

Go Picking Wildflowers

May 30, 2011 by The Noisy Plume

On a lazy, rainy Sunday

I go walking to where the mountain spins gold.

I pour my heart into the dirt as I exchange pieces of myself

for pieces of earth charm.

To take is to give, to take without giving is the ultimate imbalance.

The meadow larks flutter their song and wrap their wings about the softness of each other.

A moose spells sanctuary and tranquility with each drooping movement of its velvet roman nose.

Over in the thickness of the draw, pheasant roosters crow endlessly about their handsome tails.

Hawk eyes see all.

I carefully select my bouquet.

I bruise, bend and snap stalks as I build a petaled trophy for the windowsill at home.

The wind comes in waves.

The clouds sail fast into Wyoming.

I bed down in the tall grasses,

like a tawny deer,

and watch the rain come down the mountain.

Filed Under: city creek, idaho, mountains, rocky mountains