Unusual Skies

January 28

I am thankful for unusual skies. My niece, Sabrina, knowing how I enjoy photography, called me up early one morning this month (January 10) to tell me the sky had an unusual and eerie look. It was shortly after sunrise and there was a low cloud cover which reflected off the clouds giving the sky a yellow-pinkish glow. I went out and quickly photographed about ten shots before it faded. That same evening around sunset, my wife Bebe and I were on our way to the book store and to catch a movie when I noticed this unusual sky. It was actually purple and no, it is not a Photoshop trick. As soon as we arrived I snapped this photo. I suppose the atmospheric conditons that day were such that it made for the strange colors of the sky that morning and evening.

purple sky

purple sky

reigning down on me

a momentary gift from God

royalty in all its pageantry

a reminder of His kingdom

beyond our worldly perch

God in His raiment at His pulpit

the world His reverent church.

© rt tulley

Keys

January 27

I am thankful for keys and the symbolism of them. I like them, especially old ones. I don’t collect them but I can never bring myself to throw away old useless keys which unlock old locks that I don’t have access to or keys from my long abandoned old cars, houses, etc. Therefore, I have a box full of old keys. Many of which I don’t even remember what they were for. I also have a lot of my dad and mom’s old house and car keys. I cannot bring myself to throw them away.

I like to think it’s because of the symbolism that keys represent, the more obvious one-that keys unlock (and lock) doors. Unlocking a door allows you to go someplace you can’t go. To lock a door means to provide protection to you, your family, and your belongings.  So my thought is that keys unlock doors-they open new avenues, new opportunities for us. And they provide protection. How could anyone throw something like that away? But maybe it’s just me - the ultimate pack rat.

When I was a young boy, I found an antique skeleton type key in a hole in the trunk of an old tree in my hometown of Edinburg, Indiana. I saved it for years. Somehow I don’t know what happened to it but I don’t have it anymore.  I never found out how it got there or what lock it was to but I used to imagine stories about the possibilities. Maybe one day I will write a story about that. So not only do keys lock and unlock doors, they also hold memories and history within them. And maybe a little bit of mystery.

my keys

i’ve got the key to the city

i’ve got the key to your heart

now if i could only find

the key that makes the car start!

© rt tulley

Golf Balls

January 26

I am thankful for golf balls. I know this sounds strange. I liked them before I even began playing golf. My dad had a shag bag of them he kept in the hall closet in our old home in Edinburg, Indiana. I couldn’t have been more than about 6 years old when I played with them. I rolled them down the hall and had contests between the brands of balls as to which rolled further. In my book, Titleist was always the winner. I remember telling my dad that I liked the “tit least” balls the best. He corrected me on the pronunciation explaining it was “title-ist”. I’m glad he rectified that serious blunder before I began playing golf. Can you imagine how the other boys would have teased me about that one? They didn’t need any more ammunition!

When I began playing golf, I found a new and better use for golf balls - hitting them long and straight at little targets made of shortly cropped grass, centered at a small hole in the ground, and imbibing the wonderful feeling into my very soul as the ball met the clubhead dead center (It’s an indescribable feeling that courses through the clubhead, up the shaft, into your hands, up your arms, and somehow makes its way into the pleasure centers of your brain).  And more often than I would like to admit, I also tested out how the golf balls responded when hit into water, out of bounds, or into impossible lies-which I did quite often!

Golf balls have been improved. Now they can go 300+ yards routinely, even approaching 400 yards (not at my hands, I promise, although I did hit one about 340 yards once but I was the beneficiary of a very strong back wind). There are golf balls for fast swinging golfers, slow swinging golfers, and in between.  Balls that go straighter, farther, or higher. It’s too complicated for me. With my swing, it doesn’t really matter what kind of ball I use. The results are pretty much the same. Forlorn.  

I went through a stage when Maxfli was my favorite ball. But I think that was the rebellious teenager in me at the time. Now, of course, tit least is the ball of choice. Of course. It rolls further down the hall.

wish i had a dollar

wish I had a dollar

for every golf ball

that i shanked

or hit into the water

or even a nickel

for every one

that ended up in a pickle

or subsequently failed to fly

or hit out of bounds

in sand or unplayable lie

buried in the ground

if i stayed out of the ditch

if only if

then i would be kind of rich

of course…

if i had not played golf at all

and erstwhile saved all my golf money

i’d be wealthy with

a disposition much more sunny.

(oh shucks but what the heck

i'm hitting the golf ball again

so you should hit the deck!)

© rt tulley