Small planes, big dinosaur

Flying over the moon

The USA as we all know, is very much a car culture. It's rare to see pedestrians, unless it's in the main street of a town, a shopping area, or a designated path or trail. I was lucky that there was such a trail just beside the house I was staying in, near a small town on the outskirts of Tulsa.


Small planes often fly overhead, from the nearby Flight School.
 
At one point the trail crosses a road and goes past the private property of a ranch, which was once completely rural, before the houses were built.

Some longhorn cattle graze near the fence separating the ranch property from the public path.

Flags wave in front of houses.

Some houses  have imaginative supports for mail boxes. 

The River City Trading Post has many pumpkins for sale. 

The Post Office is a safe place.

Photo credit: FJSobriquet

Photo session.

Photo credit: FJSobriquet

 
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We leave the hot weather behind. The blue skies, the warmth on the skin, the breeze that rustles the leaves, most of them still green, a few yellow ones that have fallen from the tree onto the garden grass and lie there like the long-jointed grasshoppers or the curling butterflies that pirouette in the wind......

Coming into Chicago, the clouds lay flat as plates, stacked in the kitchen cabinet of the sky. These plates soften on contact with each other, press together, clothes emptied of occupants, clothes waiting for the rain to congregate, shrugging the briefest of shoulders, with each lightning flash running through the seams of them like celestial shears.

And then, on touchdown in the airport, it begins to rain – first, trickling down the many windows of the tubular structure that makes up the airport, and now, splattering on the plane roof itself, as we wait to move towards the runway. I so much like this airport, with its grey walls decorated with nuts and bolts effects, its many windows, its glass roof that lets the light in, and most of all its resident dinosaur (skeleton) with its small head almost touching the roof.

And the last flight, back across the Atlantic.

 
I'd like to share this post from the Sufi website
The Threshold Society. They quote from The Rumi Daybook 

 When you feel the urge to complain, give thanks instead. Exaggerate your gratitude. He didn’t say difficult circumstances would necessarily change. What he said was that, by showing gratitude, you will generate love. And this generating love is an act of Creation. This is an act of Healing. This is an act of Power. In this act, may we fly.