I’ve read so many things lately about Chat GPT, especially on Reddit, that I decided to try it. I entered the same words as before (in my previous post): “I want an image of a desert landscape at sunrise,” and this is what popped up. Not bad, but the photo looks flat to me.
Next, I requested a poem about a desert landscape at sunrise, and this is what it produced:
ChatGPT
15:48 March 2, 2023
In the silence of the desert still, As dawn begins to spill, A hush comes over all the land, As orange light takes its stand.
The sky, a canvas painted blue, Is streaked with hues of pink and new, The sun, a glowing ember bright, Rises slowly into sight.
The sand falls soft beneath your feet, As you walk with cautious beat, The air is crisp, so clear and clean, With a feeling so serene.
The cacti stand tall in their rows, With arms stretched up like nature’s pose, Their thorns, a warning to beware, Against the creatures that roam there.
~
Not the best poem I’ve ever read, but also not the worst. To be computer literate, we should know about AI and how to use it since it’s becoming so prevalent. The more artificial the world becomes, however, the more I appreciate my fellow humans and their genuine living, breathing, thinking, and feeling creativity!
What are your thoughts?
Ciao!
Dawn Pisturino
March 10, 2023
Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
(Photo by Dawn Pisturino. Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.)
This little fellow freezing his tail off in 26-degree weather is Brownie, a curve-billed Arizona thrasher. He’s cold and hungry, waiting for his meatball. Yeah, you heard me right. Brownie likes meatballs, and when he shows up looking for food, he gets one-half of a mini meatball. He grabs it with his bill and carries it away, sometimes with a smaller thrasher hot on his trail. Sometimes the smaller bird gets it, and Brownie has to do without. When the two had a baby bird during the summer, the baby would run up to Brownie, shake his feathers, and shriek like a maniac. He would keep doing this until Brownie fed him. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Before the rains came, though, he was getting very aggressive with the other birds. I watched him viciously attack a sparrow who was encroaching on his territory after I put out birdseed. He held him down with his claw and pecked him, while the poor bird was screeching for dear life. Thankfully, the little sparrow managed to get away.
Back East, where there’s plenty of water and vegetation, birds thrill us with their birdsong, beauty, and peaceful demeanor. They are equally beautiful and melodic in the Arizona desert, but drought and sparse vegetation can make them competitive and aggressive. They begin to prey on one another. We ended up with no baby doves last summer because predators kept attacking the nests. My husband and I were heartbroken.
Buddy is a dove that hangs out on our property. In 2014, he was attacked by a hawk and managed to get away. But he had a huge gash in his breast and had difficulty flying. There was nothing we could do to help him so he hung out under an oleander bush, and we made sure he had plenty of food and water. Miraculously, he survived. His feathers grew back in, leaving a big black mark where his wound had been. But we can always identify him as our little “Buddy,” and he almost always shows up for feeding time. When he doesn’t show up, I worry myself sick that something happened to him. But he’s strong and healthy and gets right in there with the other birds and seems to get plenty to eat. He had to learn to be assertive to survive.
I’ve never been able to get a good photo of Buddy. I was already outside with the camera taking pictures of the snow on the mountains when Brownie showed up. He very politely posed for me!
Dawn Pisturino
February 17, 2023
Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
(Digital City – Digital artwork by Phil Perkins. Copyright 2022 Phil Perkins. All Rights Reserved.)
Phil Perkins is an outdoorsman, photographer, poet, music lover, and graphic artist. My friend, Kym Gordon Moore, spotlighted his photography talents; but I want to shine a light on his amazing digital artwork. Much of his artwork is futuristic, such as the example above, Digital City.
But many of his pieces are playful, imaginative, and just plain fun:
(Desert Scene, which employs the point of view of an extinct prehistoric dinosaur. Copyright 2022 Phil Perkins. All Rights Reserved.)
I can’t even imagine the number of hours he devotes to creating these amazing pieces.
Phil’s photography and digital artwork can be found on Pixels, Redbubble, Society 6, ArtPal, Zazzle, Cafepress, TeePublic, ArtFlakes, and Fine Art America.
Ransom Riggs pieced together a whole novel around his collection of weird photographs. (And I do mean pieced together because, by the end of his book, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, the story had become disjointed and frayed around the edges. The photographs were always the main selling point for the book, however, so that hardly mattered. I still gave it 4 stars on Goodreads.com.) But what a brilliant idea, writing a novel around weird photographs!
So I scoured the Web looking for a few macabre samples—photos that would make your skin crawl and send the heebie-jeebies up and down your spine.
Did I succeed?
Are you feeling just a little bit uncomfortable?
What kind of book could you write around these morbid photographs?
A blood-sucking dummy? A ventriloquist that kills?
A writer and his muse? A Bram Stoker-winning team!
.This photo really gives me the creeps!
Halloween—or a twisted version of the high school prom?
What does your imagination tell you to write?
Dawn Pisturino
May 9, 2012; June 22, 2022
Copyright 2012-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
(Pink blossoms on a beaver tail cactus. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
ALL PHOTOS BY DAWN PISTURINO.
We got enough rain this winter for the cactus to blossom. It truly is a lovely sight when the desert is in bloom.
(Rose-colored blossom on a prickly pear cactus. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
But those cactus needles are nothing to mess with! They hurt!
(Creosote bush in bloom. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
Creosote bushes are indigenous desert plants with deep roots and waxy green leaves which help them to retain moisture. They mostly stay green year round. But, in the spring, they burst forth with lovely yellow flowers that brighten up the landscape. On the downside, these yellow flowers mark the start of allergy season. Nothing lasts long in the desert, however, so we enjoy them while we can. Achoo!
Have a lovely day, wherever you are!
Dawn Pisturino
May 3, 2022
Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
(Close up photo of the Baby coyote and wild birds. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
This morning, the baby coyote was lying down in the backyard, waiting for his breakfast. (This is an update to my post, Coyote Whisperer.) As soon as he saw me, he stood up and waited patiently while I put out his dry dog food. Actually, he was patient for about two seconds, then he began dancing around in anticipation of eating.
He looks so healthy and beautiful! His winter coat is shiny and full, he’s put on weight, and his fur has beautiful markings on it. He let me get up close enough to take pictures with my phone (camera clicks scare them), but what I really wanted to do was stroke his lush fur with my hands. I’m not foolish enough to attempt that, however! I really can’t even call him a baby anymore, and I don’t actually know if he’s a male or a female. (And there again, I’m not going to risk getting mauled by poking around.) We call all the coyotes “Bambi,” regardless of sex. That’s our signal to let them know we are going to feed them.
Not long after, his Mom and Dad showed up. They, also, look healthy and thriving, which makes me very happy.
(Mother coyote standing guard while Father coyote eats. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
Coyotes are very sensitive to noise, and they’re always sniffing the air and looking out for predators who might harm them. They don’t like my neighbor’s dogs, who chase them back out into the open fields. They’re used to our dog, Max, who’s usually locked up in his kennel, and playfully tease him because they know he isn’t going to hurt them. Even if he chases them, they just run a short distance, stop, and turn around and look at him. Then they wait for us to call him back. It’s like a game to them. And when Max goes after the Baby, they chase each other around a bush until we call the dog back. It’s the cutest thing to watch. But the Baby isn’t afraid. He just wants his food.
(Max. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
And then there’s the birds!
(Hungry quail. They are very aggressive when they are hungry. Photo by Dawn Pisturino.)
Well, that’s how our day starts out every morning!
Dawn Pisturino
December 7, 2021
Remember Pearl Harbor Today.
Pearl Harbor Day, December 7th
Copyright 2021 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Olive Oatman became famous in the 1850s for the blue perpendicular lines tattooed onto her chin. She called them “slave marks,” and people all across America wanted to know how and why she had acquired them.
On the afternoon of February 18, 1851, while camped along the Gila River in Arizona, Olive and her younger sister, Mary Ann, watched in horror as a band of Western Yavapai Indians massacred their mother, father, two sisters, and three brothers. Held back as captives, the two girls, fourteen and seven, were forced to walk barefoot through the rugged desert to the isolated Yavapai camp. For a year they lived there as slaves, fetching wood, hauling water, and gathering food, until traded to the Mohave tribe for two horses, three blankets, vegetables, and beads.
The Mohaves (Aha Macav, “along the river,”) inhabited a lush, fertile valley along the banks of the Colorado River, the traditional boundary between Arizona and California.
Chief Espaniole and his wife, Aespaneo, welcomed the girls into the tribe and adopted them into their own family. They were proud to have rescued the girls from the cruel Yavapai and vowed to treat them well.
The girls worked alongside the other women of the tribe, gathering wood, fetching water, and planting seeds. They soon learned the Mohave language and developed close friendships with other members of the tribe.
Olive was variously called “Ali,” “Aliutman,” “Olivino,” and “Owich (cloud),” the clan name of Chief Espaniole’s family. Mohave women inherited clan names passed down from their fathers, and bearing a clan name meant Olive was considered a full member of the tribe.
Facial tattoos were common among the Mohave Indians because they believed the permanent marks guaranteed a place in “Sil’aid,” the land of the dead. Tribal members who died without tattoos would spend eternity in a desert rat hole. Since Olive and Mary Ann belonged to the tribe, they were expected to undergo the tattooing process.
The girls lay quietly on the ground while experienced tattooers drew designs on their chins. Since the tattoos were meant to be decorative, they chose designs that would enhance the girls’ faces. Using cactus needles or sharp sticks, the designs were pricked into the skin until the wounds freely bled. The sticks were dipped in the juice of a special river weed, then into a powder made from a blue river stone, and applied to the pinpricks on the girls’ chins. The process took several hours to complete and several days to heal.
With this rite of passage, Olive and Mary Ann became permanent members of the Mohave tribe and the first white females in the United States to wear tattoos.
A terrible drought in 1855 brought famine to the tribe. Many people died, including Mary Ann. Olive soon fell ill herself. Aespaneo saved her life by feeding her gruel made from cornmeal.
In January 1856, a Yuma Indian named Francisco arrived at the Mohave camp with papers from Fort Yuma ordering the release of Olive Oatman. Chief Espaniole refused to release her. But Francisco persisted, claiming that five million white soldiers were hiding in the hills, ready to attack and destroy the Mohave village. The Mohaves reluctantly gave in.
Once again, Olive was traded for two horses, blankets, and beads. She arrived at Fort Yuma ten days later, tanned, tattooed, painted, her hair dyed black, and wearing only a bark skirt. She was nineteen years old. Her brother Lorenzo, who had survived the massacre, traveled from California for a tender reunion with his long-lost sister.
Olive became an overnight sensation. Newspapers all across America printed stories about “the white Indian” and her blue tattoo. The Evansville Enquirer reported on November 9, 1859: “She will bear the marks of her captivity to her grave. Her savage masters having tattooed her after the customs of their tribes.”
In 1857 Royal B. Stratton published the first book detailing the Oatman ordeal, LifeAmong the Indians, which became an immediate best-seller. Olive and Lorenzo traveled to New York, where Olive promoted the book with autographed photographs and lectures. She openly displayed her tattoo while relaying the tragic story of the Oatman massacre and her life as a “slave” among the Mohave Indians.
When not delivering lectures, Olive self-consciously covered her chin with her hands to avoid the staring eyes of curious people.
Olive married wealthy cattleman John Brant Fairchild in 1865, left the lecture circuit, and eventually settled down in Sherman, Texas. She became reclusive, hid her face behind a black veil, experimented with make-up to hide her blue tattoo, and refused to discuss her life among the Indians. She died of heart failure in 1903. Afraid the Mohaves would claim her body, John Fairchild had her coffin sealed in iron and covered her grave with a thick granite tombstone.
(Mohave Indian woman with body paint and tattoos.)
Dawn Pisturino
October 17, 2012; November 25, 2021
Copyright 2012-2021 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
“In 1863, a year filled with pivotal historical events — the Emancipation Proclamation, the Union victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg, and the Gettysburg Address — Abraham Lincoln issued what has become known as the first annual Thanksgiving Proclamation.”
~
The Three Amigos by C.L. Evans – Showcased in the top 100 photos of 2014 of the North American Nature Photography Association. I love this photo!from Pleated-JeansSuch beautiful plumage!Beautiful . . .
~
“Thankful” – sung by the Rise Up Children’s Choir. (This song was originally sung by Josh Groban.)
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