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Author Archives: fivereflections

About fivereflections

Location: Maine USA

Haiku – 20120601

heavy rain tonight
moon and stars no where in sight
so many puddles

 
34 Comments

Posted by on 2012/06/01 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120527

from the old locked box
photographs you left behind
my eyes become yours

 
65 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/27 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120525

soft subtle mantra
hoes the garden of the mind
new poem blossoms

 
37 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/25 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120523

blue dawn light rising
clouds scatter to the four winds
siting by the sea

 
34 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/23 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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20120521 – Haiku

warm winds of friendship
flowing into the dark night
candle lights flicker

 
32 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/21 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120519

 

the gaze of your eyes
from a distance captures mine
centuries later

 
68 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/19 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120518

the rain came early
thunder echoed through the night
more leaves unfolded

 
40 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/18 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

Haiku – 20120511

 

undulating sea
reflections of rising moon
swift-flying swallows

 
58 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/11 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120510

sea smoke illusion
ancient seafarer ghost ship
grandpa’s story hour time

 
60 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/10 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120507

soft ray of moonlight
stirs fountain pen’s twirling tracks
love sonata wakes

 
40 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/07 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120505

rain clouds crack and glow
flood tides hammer dark harbors
yachts lean to high seas

 
42 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/05 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120504

steady pouring rain
young nose pressed against window
umbrellas drift by

 
64 Comments

Posted by on 2012/05/04 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120430

black-capped chickadee
acrobatic bouncy flight
a walk in the woods

 
56 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/30 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120429

northern mockingbird
silly songs waking twilight
my pillow still cold

 
39 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/29 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120426

 

moon lit cloudy sky
shadow phantom stirring sleep
howling coyote

 
49 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/26 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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20120422

diagonal rain
blurring colors in the wind
fragrant wilderness

 
100 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/22 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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20120421 – Haiku

earth nods to the sun
buds unfolding bright colors
girls sporting tan lines

 
55 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/21 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120417

 

majestic lighthouse
daily sleeps one eye watching
storm warning alerts

 
81 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/17 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120415

gold speckled green fields
buzzing bees pollinate blooms
sea birds fly in pairs

 
61 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/15 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120414

this frosty morning
blossoms bloom tree buds swell
brisk breeze clears my mind

 
57 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/14 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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20120409

cool north atlantic
my rolling rhythm mantra
wind upon my face

 
55 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/09 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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20120404 – Haiku

seized by a longing
moments we feel outside time
old clock starts ticking

 

 
75 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/04 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120403

a white snowshoe hare
hops boldly over brown earth
mother nature warns

 

 

 
33 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/03 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120401

fragrant early wind
cherry blossom petals fall
onto gawking crowd

 

 
48 Comments

Posted by on 2012/04/01 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120330

in the clear night air
floating high in the jet stream
my star chart at home

 
36 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/30 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 2012329

lake ice very thin
nestled between the mountains
the last figure eight

 
49 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/29 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120325

babbling brooklet
echoes beneath melting snow
old robin returns home

 

 

 
52 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/25 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120319

freckled barefoot boy
swimming in his birthday suit
old scarecrow stands guard

 

 

 
50 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/19 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Ice Shanty – A Young Boy’s Tale

The transition to Maine from our Maryland dairy had its confusing moments. In Maryland the first day of spring meant the beginning of warm sunny days and flowers blooming everywhere. In Maine the first day of spring was just another number on the calendar. The first day of spring in Maine should really be during the usual ice out of Big Wood Pond, around the first week of May.

During our first week in Maine, I told my father I was going to dig worms and go ice fishing. Trying to hold back the laughter, he told me to dig them out behind the wood shed. I realized how ridiculous my suggestion of digging worms must have sounded the moment I opened the door. The snow drifts were even with the rooftops and the temperature was hovering around zero degrees Fahrenheit. When I came back indoors, he offered the frozen smelt, he purchased earlier, to use as bait. He gave me a miniature fish rod he had put together the night before, along with an ice skimmer.

I was excited about going ice fishing for the first time. I gathered my new fishing tools and frozen smelt bait and walked out onto the snow covered ice several hundred yards from the shore of Big Wood Pond, in front of our log cabin.

Grasping the oversized steel post hole chisel, we transported from our Maryland dairy, I began to cut a hole in the ice large enough to pull a record size brook trout through. I had cut through over three feet of ice, when water gushed though the remaining thin ice at the bottom of the hole, the chisel stuck in the lake bottom about a foot below the ice. Disappointed, I gathered my tools and headed further from shore.

After cutting the second hole in the ice, I fished for hours without getting a bite.

As I gained experience, a few years later, I rebuilt a small abandoned ice fishing shanty I had found in pieces scattered among the boulders on the shore of Hog Island. I bought a small wood stove, stove pipe, a damper, and pipe cap for it. The floor had a hole to fish through. I painted the shanty red and nailed an old pair of wooden skis to the bottom of it.

Moving the ice shanty over the snow was easy. Clearing a space on the ice, where the water was deep enough, I cut a large hole in the ice. Moving the ice shanty, aligning the hole in the floor with the hole in the ice was simple enough. I banked the ice house with snow to keep out the cold wind.

After lighting the stove and setting the damper for the first time, the ice shanty became a cozy place to fish. I was catching smelt within moments after dropping a line.

The next day, I noticed my ice shanty was frozen to the ice. The weight of the snow on the ice or the atmospheric pressure pushes down on the ice and forces lake water up through the holes in the ice and freezes. After a couple of hours of cutting ice around the floor, I learned to lift the ice shanty off the ice, placing it on large chunks of fire wood.

Reading the ice fishing laws, I discovered how many lines I could fish with at one time. Cutting holes in the ice, within eyesight of the shanty, and setting fish traps was plenty of exercise. A fish trap looks like a folded puzzle with a spool of line attached to the one end. You unfold the ice trap, placing the spool end into the water of the ice hole. Two horizontal laterals keep it from slipping through the hole. A flexible metal strip with a red flag attached to one end is set to release when a fish is on the line.

Your heart races when you see a red flag pop up above the snow. Sometimes the wind releases the flag, so you do plenty of running for nothing. Each time you see a red flag, you imagine a record breaking trout on the end of your line and run like the wind.

It is just as much fun to fish during the night, even when the temperatures are sub zero.

One crystal clear night I was fishing, the stars seemed to be the size of basketballs. A week earlier, there was a warm spell and all of the snow that covered the ice melted. The temperature dropped and the water from the melted snow froze.

I lit the stove and was fishing, when unexpectedly I got a strike. The tug on the line practically pulled me into the ice hole. It released and the line became limp. I pulled up the hook and baited it.

I heard a loud roar, so I quickly opened the door and stepped outside. I could hear the ice cracking from one end of the lake to the other in several places. I have heard of thermal contraction on concrete highways, but I didn’t know it happened on ice covered bodies of water. I never imagined a noise this loud, it lifted the hair on the back of my neck.

I stepped back inside and closed the door and began fishing again, jiggling my bait, trying to entice whatever took my bait earlier, to return.

It was getting warm inside. I had forgotten to set the damper, the stove was roaring like a blast furnace. I unzipped my ski jacket.

From time to time I jiggled my bait. I heard a faint noise that sounded like something scratching on the outside wall of the ice shanty. The hair on the back my neck raised again. I thought about the stories I heard the older natives of this area telling of wolves.

I reached for my axe, and placed it where I could grab it incase a hungry wolf decided to crash through the door on my ice shanty and try to eat me for dinner.

I continued to jiggle my line, hoping the hungry wolf would go away. The scratching got louder and louder. I began to sweat. I jiggled my bait faster. The scratching picked up tempo. I stopped and reached for the axe and bolted outside to confront the hungry wolf.

There was nothing outside. The light from the stars made it bright enough to see a long way. I walked around the ice shanty and still I saw nothing. I held a flash light up to the ice shanty wall where I thought I heard the scratching noises. I didn’t see any marks.

Puzzled and still shaking I went back inside and continued jiggling my bait. I heard the scratching again. I felt numb as chub, when I discovered it was the zipper of my ski jacket rubbing on the wall of the ice shanty, as I jiggled my bait.

I locked up the ice shanty and walked home, happy there wasn’t a hungry wolf following me. The stars were beautiful.

 
 

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Haiku – 20120317

laughing and splashing
all standing in a puddle
wet dog wags its tail

 
38 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/17 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120315

waxing crescent moon
last cold dark nights of winter
snow geese search for spring

 

 

 
40 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/15 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120311

distant train whistle
ice crystals circle the moon
one lonely star shines

 

 

 
60 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/11 in Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120310

sea birds wake the sun
gliding high above the sails
two orcas jumping

 

 

 
34 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/10 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120308-#4

the sandman teases
his kiss whispers I love you
dreamcatcher hovers

 
 
 

note: a fun answer to:
Haiku #4 by Betty Hayes Albright

 
37 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/08 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

Haiku – 20120308

the eye of the wind
icy spray thundering waves
headlight off starboard

 
 
  

 
24 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/08 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

Haiku – 20120304

sea shells in both hands
bare foot in the rolling waves
reminiscing thoughts

 

 
103 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/04 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Fly Fishing

 

Fly Fishing

My eyes opened to greet the early morning rays of light breaking into my log cabin bedroom windows. I could hear something on the roof, red squirrels (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus) chasing each other back and forth on the sun-warmed shingles.

Today was Saturday, the first day of the spring we have time to go fly fishing. The aroma of fresh ground coffee, drifting in from the kitchen, lifted me from my bed. The crackling pops of sizzling bacon, my father was frying in his favorite black cast iron pan, was as clear to my ears as the army bugler’s early morning reveille.

I hurried, pulling on my blue jeans and denim shirt. The air still had a chill. I reached for a pair of woolen socks. Squirrels were still playing their morning game up on the roof, as I laced up my boots.

The mouth watering aroma of a log cabin breakfast was always special on the first day of fly fishing. While I washed and dried the dishes, my father packed a deliciously enticing lunch, large enough to survive a couple of days in the wilderness.

We packed the fishing gear, maps, paddles, canoe seats, an anchor and rope, carefully placing our deliciously enticing lunch. Lifting the canoe up to the roof racks on the jeep was easy. After securing the canoe to the jeep with strong nylon rope, I checked the supply of bug dope. One of the major secrets of enjoying the Maine woods, is having the correct bug dope.

We headed south, over the mountains, on route 201. The transmission of my fathers old army jeep sounded as loud as a P-47 Thunderbolt and was probably built the same year with P-47 spare parts. The air was clear on the mountain tops. You could see Mt. Katahdin 100 miles to the east. Although I enjoyed the panoramic view from these mountains, my thoughts were concentrated on brook trout (Salvelinus fontinalis).

The highway leveled off at the foot of the mountains, we were at a higher elevation than Jackman. We drove along Parlin Pond. The water reflected the clear blue sky. The slowing of the jeep transmission signaled we would be turning off the highway, heading west.

The twisting dirt road looked as though it had a nice even surface. Mud puddles, filled with water from a light rain the night before, reflected the narrow sky above the dense forest. My father and I were startled, as the right front wheel of the jeep dropped several feet below the surface into a pothole filled with soft mud. My father shifted into 4-wheel drive and the transmission ploughed through deep muddy bottom potholes for several miles. We climbed to higher ground where the dirt road was constructed on ledge.

We stopped by a babbling brook and pulled buckets out of the jeep. Splashing water on the wheels, we removed the heavy mud before it dried in the wheel wells. Canadian jays (Perisoreus canadensis) landed in the branches above us, watching the show.

The melting snow, earlier in the spring, washed out many of the bridges along the way. Some bridges had the surface torn off, leaving only the two parallel beams crossing the stream. I stood on the far side of the road and guided my father across the beams. The beams were only inches wider than the jeep tires. The next bridge was flooded. The swift water was even with the floor of the jeep. I told my father the heavy deliciously enticing lunch he made was heavy enough to hold us to the stream bed. We would have to replace its weight with brook trout on the return trip.

Twenty miles from the highway, my father pulled the jeep off the side of the road. We carried the canoe a half miles down a narrow trail to the Iron Pond. The water was like a mirror. The air was still. The woods were completely quiet.

We hurried back to the jeep to get the fishing gear, paddles, canoe seats, the anchor and rope. Canadian jays landed in the branches above us. I promised to come back a second trip to fetch our deliciously enticing lunch. The Canadian jays stayed in the branches to guard our lunch, until I came back for it.

We loaded the canoe, placed bottles of root beer into the water of a nearby stream near the trail. I climbed into the bow of the canoe and my father climbed into the stern and shoved off with his right leg as he pulled it into the canoe. The canoe sliced the mirror surface of the water without a sound. I grabbed a paddle and we both paddled toward the far side of Iron Pond.

Large drifts of snow, still sheltered from the warmth of spring, on the north end of Iron Pond, were the few signs left of the long cold winter. A beaver swam over to see what we were doing, then slapped its large tail on the water and disappeared under the surface

As we neared a dense growth of cattails, a mother loon ran out across the surface of the water, flapping her wings, scolding us. Hundreds of pitcher plants grew along the shore, filled with black flies. I reached for the bug dope, just incase.

The water was crystal clear. I could see several brook trout. I could see the peak of tumble-down mountain above the trees west of me. Close to shore, the black flies began to swarm. I handed my father the bottle of bug dope.

We pulled the canoe up onto the bank of a small stream and walked along its bank to a large growth of fiddleheads. My father told me an old French guide told him where to find this place, before he retired and move back to Quebec.

A fiddlehead is the coiled young frond of any of various ferns, some of which are considered a delicacy when cooked. To many local residents of the northwestern wilderness of Maine, a growth of Maine fiddleheads is as valuable as a gold mine and twice as valuable as a pot of lobsters from the downeast shore.

My father and I harvested several bags of fiddleheads. We paddled back to the trail, and I took them to the jeep and packed them in an ice chest. I noticed the Canadian jays were gone.

I ran to the stream and gathered the cold bottles of root beer, and my father lifted our deliciously enticing lunch from the canoe. We found large boulders along the stream to sit on, as we ate our wonderful lunch. The Canadian jays sat in the low branches nearby.

My father opened the fishing gear. He pulled out his fishing vest and a felt hat. The hat band was made of fleece and contained hundreds of dry and wet flies. His vest had several pockets filled with little cases of dry and wet flies. He has tied artificial flies for over twenty five years and has more secret fly pattern than LL Bean could ever imagined.

We hiked upstream and then up the side of a small mountain. The view of Iron Pond was beautiful. We spent several hours looking around in the woods, enjoying the day.

Fly fishing! The secret of fly fishing for brook trout in the northwestern wilderness of Maine is to be patient. You can fly fish all day. Catch as many brook trout as the law allows.

The alternative would be to enjoy the water, canoeing, a secret fiddlehead growth, a wonderful lunch, a mountaintop view, and an afternoon filled discovering nature. All the time you are waiting until the sun drops to a magical elevation in the sky before climbing into the stern and shoving off with your right leg as you pull it into the canoe slicing the mirror surface of the water without a sound.

Just imagine, you’ve wasted several hours of the afternoon instead of fly fishing. The magical time is now. You launch the canoe, and prepare your fly rods. Looking around you will see the surface of the water come alive with action. What’s happening? You can’t believe your eyes? You take a closer look. The sky is filled with flies, the water surface is covered with flies flopping around. You look again. Brook trout of all sizes are flying out of the water. There are so many rings of waves on the water, you become confused, wondering where to cast a fly.

Cast a fly into the water! It doesn’t matter where! You will catch a brook trout on every cast.

Stand up! Yes, you can stand in a canoe, as long as you keep your knees bent a little to hold your balance and keep the canoe from rocking. It will only take you a few minutes and you will have total balance control.

You have never experienced so much fun in a few moments of fly fishing in your life! Who would believe you? That is what is so special with learning the secret of fly fishing for brook trout in the northwestern wilderness of Maine. No one believes you.

Didn’t I tell you? We are the only ones fishing on Iron Pond. There must be thousands of brook trout jumping out of the water. See! Nobody believes you.

The trip home.

I’ll make this short. Crossing the bridges on the way back wasn’t easy. The magic time at Iron Pond stops at sundown. Traveling home over the twisting dirt road, filled with deep mud filled potholes is dangerous enough. Add the damaged or flooded bridges and you must used extreme caution traveling.

Notice we drank root beer chilled in a mountain steam. The northwestern wilderness of Maine is not a place to mix drinking and driving.

To add one more reason for extreme caution on the backwoods roads, would be the wildlife. Many animals come out of the dense forest to the twisting dirt roads to get away from the flies and mosquitoes. On the trip back from Iron Pond, we saw 38 white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), 4 moose (Alces alces), and over 100 snow-shoe rabbits (Lepus americanus). Several of the deer jumped over the hood of the jeep. The snow-shoe rabbits practically go crazy when they see the lights of the jeep, hopping everywhere. Many jumped into the path of the jeep before we could stop, and died. Luckily the moose didn’t jump.

I would tell you more, but I must sleep. Tomorrow, I’m going fly fishing.

Fiddleheads? Never heard of them!

 
92 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/01 in Reminiscing, writing

 

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Haiku – 20120301

capture five senses
appearance taste texture scent
oh, the fifth is sound

 
41 Comments

Posted by on 2012/03/01 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Enchanted Mountain Ski Area

Enchanted Mountain Ski Area

During the 1960s a proposal was made to construct a year round resort on Coburn Mountain, 15 miles south of Jackman, just off route 201. The facility would be constructed in the Johnson Mountain and Upper Enchanted Townships. The name of this facility would be called Enchanted Mountain Ski Area.

Coburn Mountain is 3718 feet above sea level. The annual snowfall in this area is abundant. The view from the top was awesome. You could see hundreds of miles away on a clear day.

The spring they began construction, the access road, parking lots, lodge foundation, ski trails and lift lines were surveyed. Cutting the trees to clear the surveyed areas took months of hard work. Swarms of black-flies and mosquitoes attacked the busy cutting teams, while they had both hands on the controls of their heavy chain saws. Heavy rain impeded progress. Deep mud caused by the rain and spring run off made it difficult to pull the wood from the construction areas.

An access road into the facility, two parking lots, a beautiful log lodge, two trails and lift lines were constructed the first year. The short beginners trail was located below the ski lodge. A bunny lift, that paralleled it, would be simple and safe for a young skier to use. The intermediate trail was located high above the ski lodge, on a very steep slope, that would be exciting for the intermediate skier. The long T-Bar lift, that paralleled it, could pulled the skiers rapidly up the face of the mountain.

The log lodge was built with an oversize handcrafted stone fireplace and matching mantle spanning one side of the lounge area. Two walls of the lounge area contained large windows in-line with the two ski trails. A small store was fabricated inside the lodge for sales and rentals of ski clothes and equipment. A small food bar was fabricated inside the lodge across from the small store to supply hot sandwiches and hot drinks to the frozen skiers became very popular.

Forest Hills High School started a program for students to learn ski teaching. A bus hauled the members to and from the Enchanted Mountain Ski Area. In no time at all students were learning the Natur-Teknik ski teaching technique, originated by Walter Foeger of Austria and endorsed as the American Ski Teachers Association of Natur-Teknik (ASTAN). Students could advance in the ASTAN program, after graduating from high school, by taking an exam of certification to become a professional ski instructor at Jay Peak, Vermont.

Each winter I went to every class offered by the high school. During winter weekends and holidays I continued to practiced my skiing lessons. I was amazed how fast I could master these simple natural movements. The program boasted that within ten days of training you could gracefully parallel ski down any grade slope with or without ski poles. The program kept its promise.

Most of the days I spent at Enchanted, it was either snowing or it had snowed during the night. The days it was snowing, the snowflakes were usually as large as Beech leaves. On dark days the wind and low temperatures were unbearable. I sometimes wondered why I was enjoying this artic sport, especially at this elevation. On the sunny days, it was comfortable skiing is a sweater.

The Enchanted Mountain Ski Area continued to developed. Soon a chair lift was built and expert trails weaved their way around trees and jagged cliffs. The feasibility study planned lifts and trails all over the mountain. Golf courses and several lodges were also planned along with trails for horseback riding. Ice Skating rinks, hiking trails, beaches for swimming, areas for fishing were sketched out. Futured plans endorsed something for tourist year round.

Suddenly, the economy turned, the ski area became penniless. The lodge and lifts were dismantled and hauled away to their new owners. Even the oversize handcrafted stone fireplace and matching mantle was carefully loaded onto a flat-bed trailer.

It will take several decades for the wilderness to cover the scars made by months of planning and years of construction, but the wonderful memories of those involved in the Enchanted Mountain Ski Area will always commemorate each moment.

 
38 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/29 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120227

the letters and words
in various arrangements
capture the moment

 
45 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/27 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120225

 

burnt orange steel gray clouds
dark green pine cedar and spruce
fragrant twilight fades

 

 
47 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/25 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120222

the birchbark canoe
whispered into the full moon
the cry of the loon

 
56 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/22 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120218

 

sunlit rosy cheeks
clinging skirt and windblown hair
picture on my desk

 

 
95 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/18 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120213

 

howling icy winds
ghostly shadows haunting walls
cat walks by the hearth

 

 

 

 
32 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/13 in Reminiscing

 

Snowshoe Tracks

Life long ago – an old post from:
Northwestern Wilderness Of Maine Personal Essays

Winter is a beautiful time of year, a time of year, when you have more freedom to move about on your own two feet, as opposed to a boat, canoe, or motorized vehicle. You don’t have to purchase a ticket to enjoy nature.

Our back yard was Wood Pond (known to the natives as Big Wood Pond or Big Wood Lake) and across from the lake is a wilderness as far as the eye can see. If you can see beyond the mountain ridges, you can see the province of Quebec, Canada.

The arctic weather in the northwestern wilderness of Maine turns the land into an area of fantasy dressed in white crystals and ice each year. The ice covered lakes, ponds, streams can easily support the weight of your body, with an ice thickness estimate of a minimum of 36 inches by the middle of the season.

Dressed in several layers of warm clothing and wearing my red woolen Maine guides coat, I leave the warmth of a roaring fireside within our log cabin to challenge the frosty outdoors.

Strapping on a pair of racket-shaped snowshoes and pulling a long walking stick from the shed, I turned toward our wonderful back yard.

My favorite snowshoe is a bearpaw, but the racket-shaped snowshoe is more practical for crossing treeless areas, because the long tail drags as you lift each snowshoe, keeping it in line with your direction of travel.

The creative craftsmanship of snowshoe makers produces an excellent multipurpose product. Steaming and bending rigid ash wood into a racket-shaped frame containing interlaced leather strips that can be attached to the foot, with a flexible leather harness, to facilitate walking on deep snow is a work of art. The flexible leather harness is attached to an ash cross brace, interlaced leather strips are blocked out above the upper side of this cross brace large enough to allow the user’s boot toe to project through the snowshoe, as the snowshoe follows the contour of the snow. This permits the user to climb drifts or steep slopes without removing her snowshoes.

It doesn’t take long to master the art of snowshoeing. Learning to gauge a stride wide enough to clear each shoe rapidly becomes a natural habit. The first time you tumble into the deep snow, you realize why you must concentrate on your coordination. Imaging the several hundred inches of annual snowfall in the northwestern wilderness of Maine, helps you visualize why snowshoes were invented. We can be thankful to the Native Americans for this brilliant idea.

Once on the lake, beyond our back yard, I established a direction, using landmarks to guide me. My favorite area to explore, while wearing snowshoes, is across the lake, between the Sally and Burnt Jacket mountain ranges. The mouth of Wood Stream is located in this area.

Crossing the lake, it is a treat to the eyes and soul to look back at our log cabin, the town with the twin spirals of the catholic church standing tall above the ice covered trees. Looking northeast, I see the 3640 foot Boundary Bald Mountain. This icy white peak contrasts against a clear blue sky.

Seeing snowshoe tracks trailing back to our log cabin intrigues me, because of their perfect symmetry across the pure trackless landscape.

Hog Island, as seen from shore, looks small, but as you parallel it, you become aware of its magnitude and rocky surface features.

Continuing on, I pass by the deepest waters of Wood Pond. The maximum water depth is 72 feet. Adding a minimum of 36 inches of ice cover, topped with a minimum of 48 inches of snow, I fantasize the long drop to the bottom.

Looking up at the Burnt Jacket mountain range, I notice the large groves of spruce trees on the slopes. Irregular shaped spruce trees align the peaks, creating a ragged and wilder profile than the surrounding peaks.

Climbing the bank of Wood Stream onto a deep snow covered land, I am greeted by several chickadees, as they land in the branches, within inches of my eyes, fearless of my appearance, singing their name sake tune.

Continuing on, parallel to Wood Stream, the groves of leafless white birch pull my thoughts to earlier school years, during a history lesson about Indians and birch bark canoes. Looking back, I never dreamed of being in such a place of beauty as it is this moment.

The only sounds in this wilderness are a gentle breeze flowing through the branches, murmuring waterfalls slipping through the ice covered steam, and gentle chic-a-dee-dee-dee notes coming from my new feathered forest creatures. I can hear my heartbeat and breathing as I lift each snowshoe above the deep soft snow toward my wilderness destiny.

Two white-tailed deer drinking from Wood Stream, where the rapids are still too swift to freeze, fill my thoughts with tranquillity. The camouflaged Snowshoe Rabbits are revealed when you catch their movement from the corner of your eye or deep green pine is their background.

Mud Pond, surrounded by beautiful ice covered mountain ranges, appeared up the narrow path I am traveling. Making the decision, to go up Wood Stream on the far northwestern side of Mud Pond or continue westward across the pond to the mouth of Benjamin Brook was an easy to decision today. I chose the later.

The snow is deeper at the mouth of Benjamin. I wrestle with my racket-shaped snowshoes, as I climb through the dense growth of trees, lining the steep westward bank of Mud Pond. This is new territory to my eyes. Every new turn of the brook introduces new excitement. I pretend to be an explorer, the first human to trek these woods on snowshoes.

I now travel by memory, carefully visualizing my father’s tattered maps that I studied, sitting by the flickering fireside in our cozy log cabin, last night. Remembering to turn right at the first fork in the brook ahead of me, a mile up the stream, I spot Long Pond. Long Pond is approximately a half mile long, containing a small island located half way across it. The stream continues, but I turn right at the second fork.

I come to Horseshoe Pond, within a mile from the second fork. It looks more like the outline of a snake, as it swirls around steep slopes.

Deeper into the wilderness, I notice a greater calmness. I feel one with nature, as I track across the frozen surface, studying bird and animal tracks.

Approaching the end of Horseshoe, I cross over land, through a dense grove of white birch trees. I see Benjamin Pond within an eight of a mile or so. Benjamin is roughly the size of Mud Pond, containing one large island and five smaller ones. I note the location of the outlet of Benjamin Brook and will return this route later in the afternoon. I cross Benjamin Pond and follow the half mile of brook to Clearwater Pond.

Clearwater Pond parallels the Sally mountain range, and at the western end of the pond I can see the backside of the mountain. It is a view worth traveling through the arctic wilderness to see, especially on snowshoes.

I turn back, as I soak up the landscape in my mind to enjoy later. I remember to follow Benjamin Brook from its outlet at Benjamin Pond, instead of crossing through the dense grove of white birch trees to Horseshoe Pond. I see my snowshoe tracks at the second fork and retrace them back toward Long Pond.

Experiencing new territory for the first time is breathtaking. The abundant fresh animal tracks in the snow compare to the abundant human tracks on the snow covered city sidewalks.

Approaching Mud Pond, I spot a red fox struggling through the deep soft snow. The blue sky lost it battle against snow clouds, as it begins to snow. The gentle breeze gains strength, as I cross Mud Pond. Following my tracks beside Wood Stream, the forest shields me from icy chill of the wind, and gentle flakes of snow float to the ground, simulating the gentle fall of goose feathers. It is late afternoon. Getting closer to the mouth of Wood Stream at Wood Pond, I hear a strange noise. Picking up my pace, I hurry to see what may be causing it.

Arriving at Wood Pond, I become aware of what is happening. My heart races.

The visibility is no greater than the tips of my snowshoes. The wind has become a rage and the gentle flakes of snow have become a blizzard of horizontal snow, causing a white-out. The temperature rapidly drops and I become covered with blowing snow. It is all I can do to see the drifted snowshoe tracks I made earlier this morning. I begin to panic. I become afraid I will lose my sense of direction. The open waters of Moose River, on each end of Wood Pond, are places of danger. You could stumble into these icy waters, during a white-out, and drown. I feel the skin lifting the hair on the back of my neck.

I remember I am wearing a hooded sweater under my red woolen Maine guides coat. Pulling the hood over my head, I instantly feel warmer. I carefully retrace my tracks, as well as I can see them, toward our log cabin. Two miles across the ice and snow covered Wood Pond seems like a thousand miles.

After several hours, just as I am within a quarter of mile, or so, from our log cabin, the wind stops, and the gentle flakes of snow drop to the ground, simulating the gentle fall of goose feathers, then stop. Within minutes the sun was setting in a clear western sky with beautiful shades of red. I stare at this unbelievable beauty, as my mouth drops.

I am glad to be home safe. I am exhausted, as I climb off the ice and snow covered surface of Wood Pond, looking forward to sitting near the warmth of the roaring fireside inside our log cabin. I will pick up my father’s tattered maps and plan out another journey into the winter wonderland of the northwestern wilderness of Maine.

Hot coffee sounds great! Will you join me?

This clip from Google Earth shows old gravel wood roads and timber clear-cuts that were not there in the 1960s. Round trip was approximately 15 miles.
 
31 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/12 in Reminiscing, Stories, writing

 

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Haiku – 20120210

the sounds of silence
heard in galaxies of stars
children’s eyes whisper

 

 

 
34 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/10 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120208

the winds of Haiku
capture the moment at hand
and some know-it-all

 
30 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/08 in Haiku, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120204

full snow moon shadows
laughter drifts over the snow
lovers toboggan

 
51 Comments

Posted by on 2012/02/04 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120130

sublime winter’s sky
standing beneath the north star
your kiss surprised me

 
73 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/30 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Tanka – 20120129

starless winter night
looking down through the window
the flickering hearth
the candle’s flame stirring light
the love poem flows from the quill

 
39 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/29 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Haiku – 20120127

snow flakes and rain drops
ripple the harbor surface
two love ducks huddle

 
43 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/27 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120125

bright blue morning sky
harbor ice has split in two
thoughts of the high seas

 

 
23 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/25 in Haiga, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Tanka – 20121222

dense cold whited air
loud crashing breakers unseen
bell buoy echoes near
lighthouse beam my evening sun
second walk to the woodpile

 
43 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/22 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx as a Duet in ‘The Soloist’ – NYTimes.com

I was amazed tonight while watching this movie:

Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx as a Duet in ‘The Soloist’ – NYTimes.com.

I won’t comment, because it is something that should unfold in front of your eyes….

 
15 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/21 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120116

two skating lovers
twirl and twirl this winter day
laughter fills the wind

 

 

 
74 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/16 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20120112

rain ice wind and snow
fox hid under bending limbs
old black crows complained

 

 

 
56 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/12 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Tanka – 20120109

the bright full wolf moon
sails the midwinter night sky
while harbor lights glow
through the dense rising sea smoke
where fisherman’s young bride waits

 
46 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/09 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Tanka – 20120108

in fluffy feathers
red bird sits high above on
snowy leafless branch
a cold steel gray sunless sky
the old man held up small seeds

 
33 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/08 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Tanka – 20120103

oh we were all there
snowy fields in the dawn light
our foot prints long gone
quickly covered by the wind
with closed eyes i still see you

 
64 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/04 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Haiku – 20120102

afternoon blue sky
those lazy drifting white clouds
shapeshifting shadows

 

 
31 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/02 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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a quote captured my eye

Poking around numerous writer, poet, and reader’s blogs, a quote captured my eye on the upper left corner of  to a dusty shelf we aspire. my thoughts immediately flew back to a summer in the early 1980s when i focused on reading the great novels Thomas Wolfe had written.

i’ll let you decide if you would enjoy his writing or not, but i couldn’t get enough of it – i soaked his words up like a sponge…. a quick snapshot from:

You Can’t Go Home Again by:Thomas Wolfe

Since childhood [George wrote to Fox] I had wanted what all men want in youth: to be famous, to be loved. These two desires went back through all the steps, degrees, and shadings of my education; they represented what we younglings of the time had been taught to believe in and to want.

Love and Fame. Well, I have had them both.

You told me once, Fox, that I did not want them, that I only thought I did. You were right. I wanted them desperately before I had them, but once they were mine, I found that they were not enough. And I think, if we speak truth, the same thing holds for every man who ever lived and had the spark of growth in him.

It has never been dangerous to admit that Fame is not enough–one of the world’s greatest poets called it “that last infirmity of Noble mind”–but it is dangerous, for reasons which everybody understands, to admit the infirmity of Love. Perhaps Love’s image may suffice some men. Perhaps, as in a drop of shining water, Love may hold in microcosm the reflection of the sun and the stars and the ‘heavens and the whole universe of man. Mighty poets dead and gone have said that this was true, and people have professed it ever since. As for that, I can only say that I do not think a frog pond or a Walden Pond contains the image of the ocean, even though there be water in both of them.

“Love is enough, though the world be a-waning,” wrote William Morris. We have his word for it, and can believe it or not as we like. Perhaps it was true for him, yet I doubt it. It may have been true at the moment he wrote it, but not in the end, not when all was said and done.

As for myself, I did not find it so.

For, even while I was most securely caught up and enclosed within the inner circle of Love’s bondage, I began to discover a larger world outside. It did not dawn upon me in a sudden and explosive sense, the way the world of Chapman’s Homer burst upon John Keats:

“Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken.”

It did not come like that at all. It came in on me little by little, almost without my knowing it.

Up to that time I had been merely the sensitive young fellow in conflict with his town, his family, the life around him–then the sensitive young fellow in love, and so concerned with his little Universe of Love that he thought it the whole universe. But gradually I began to observe things in life which shocked me out of this complete absorption with the independent entities of self. I caught glimpses of the great, the rich, the fortunate ones of all the earth living supinely upon the very best of everything and taking the very best for granted as their right. I saw them enjoying a special privilege which had been theirs so long that it had become a vested interest: they seemed to think it was a law ordained of nature that they should be for ever life’s favourite sons. At the same time I began to be conscious of the submerged and forgotten Helots down below, who with their toil and sweat and blood and suffering unutterable supported and nourished the mighty princelings at the top.

now i feel like reading them all again…

what are your thoughts on Thomas Wolfe? Have you ever read his novels?

 
25 Comments

Posted by on 2012/01/01 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20111230

silent winter night
the glowing library lamp
these old poems inspire

 
 

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Tanka – 20111225

a new moon last night
snowflakes drifting silently
never heard them fall
or saw how pretty each was
such beauty in a dark night

 
44 Comments

Posted by on 2011/12/25 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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2011123 – Become an explorer

Become an explorer – drift through the faceless crowds observing everything all around you… don’t take notes, don’t try to remember facts… don’t memorize one single thing… those things are for learning… exploring is fun and relaxing… no iPods, no cell phones, keep all the channels of your senses wide open… your eyes are interpreters and the faceless crowds the mantra…

Life is beautiful – enjoy every moment…

 

 

 

 

 

 
28 Comments

Posted by on 2011/12/23 in Reminiscing

 

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2011 Winter Solstice

The Winter Solstice is one of my favorite times of the year.

Growing up on a Maryland dairy farm, I noticed a stir in the domestic animals. While living on the edge of a wilderness, deep in the northern forests of Maine, next door to the Province of Quebec, Canada – there was a mystical stir in the icy atmosphere – something too subtle, or too delicate to notice, while indoors, sitting by those flickering flames of the hearth.

The icy cold air, the loud crunching sounds your feet make, as you walk in frozen snow. Crunch, crunch, crunch…

The clear black night sky, filled with the brightest stars you could ever imagine. Stars so bright that you can see your face in the glowing ice covered lake.

While standing still watching falling stars, the creatures of the night begin to howl – sounds reflecting from one mountain range to another, stirring a chill that surges from your toes to your nose – a strange feeling so powerful, you swear your skin is standing at attention, while your racing heart echos inside your ears – then, all of a sudden, the world under the winter solstice night sky becomes silent – you spend another hour of dead silence in the icy cold air searching the heavens for movement, then head back to the cabin, where the warm flickering flames of the hearth are inviting.

I often wondered if animals felt the tug and pull of energy flowing from pole to pole of our tilting globe, while the restless human focuses on the toils of his man-made environment?

Good Night!

 
25 Comments

Posted by on 2011/12/21 in Reminiscing

 

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Tanka – 20111217

motorcycle ride
out on the highway
the sun hanging low
long shadows of me and you
floating in the mountain air

 

 

 
33 Comments

Posted by on 2011/12/17 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Tanka – 20111204

like the universe
seen on a dark winter’s night
uncharted limits
inspire subtle story lines
tower clock strikes midnight hour

 

 

 
28 Comments

Posted by on 2011/12/04 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Tanka – 20111203

the cold frosty air
melts all anger of my thoughts
clear crystal symbol
oh delicate white message
rising sun was last to see

 
11 Comments

Posted by on 2011/12/03 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Have You Seen – America Before Columbus National Geographic

I was amazed to see this documentary and hope you enjoy it also – you can develop your own opinions. I have watched it twice!

It is well documented and a must see for anyone interested in discovering an untold history of how it all began 500 years ago.

The European discovery of the two vast continents – although millions of people were all ready living here – you will discover what happen to those amazing people.

Part 1 of 7:

America Before Columbus National Geographic

Please comment on what you discovered that you may not have already known, or were taught differently!

 
5 Comments

Posted by on 2011/11/25 in Reminiscing

 

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2011 Thanksgiving Eve

If you live in the United States or Canada, Thanksgiving, a historical holiday to some – a day of reflection to me.

Take a brief moment, and think back to your childhood and the teachers that taught you how to read. Some of you take advantage of reading and enjoy the entertainment value, and some of you read for both entertainment and educational value, meeting life long creative characters and gain an unbelievable understanding of subjects you never dreamed possible to learn – and you are still learning!

Thank a teacher for teaching you how to read!

If you live somewhere else in the world – being thankful for teachers is something to be thankful for IMHO!

Continue learning – Free:

Harvard Classics

Gutenberg.org

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2011/11/23 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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In reply to: Me Against The Light….

oh darkest night a bright star is my desire
only if i close mine eyes and imagine a spark
these hopeful eyes scan far and wide for the faintest twinkle
oh why not – this gloom has no power over me
imagine an explosion of colors – fresh twirling flowers
buzzing bees – chirping birds – a gentle breeze in the distance
oh rising sun – oh spring dawn
awake me in warm fragrances drifting in with natures music

in reply to: Me Against The Light….

 
9 Comments

Posted by on 2011/11/18 in Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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John Keats – focusing on the star’s steadfast and passively watchful nature

Bright Star – John Keats

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.

 
15 Comments

Posted by on 2011/10/16 in Poetry, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Hymn To The Spirit Of Nature – Percy Bysshe Shelley

Hymn To The Spirit Of Nature

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Life of Life! Thy lips enkindle
With their love the breath between them;
And thy smiles before they dwindle
Make the cold air fire; then screen them
In those locks, where whoso gazes
Faints, entangled in their mazes.

Child of Light! Thy limbs are burning
Through the veil which seems to hide them,
As the radiant lines of morning
Through thin clouds, ere they divide them;
And this atmosphere divinest
Shrouds thee whereso`er thou shinest.

Fair are others: none beholds Thee;
But thy voice sounds low and tender
Like the fairest, for it folds thee
From the sight, that liquid splendour;
And all feel, yet see thee never, -
As I feel now, lost for ever!

Lamp of Earth! where`er thou movest
Its dim shapes are clad with brightness,
And the souls of whom thou lovest
Walk upon the winds with lightness
Till they fail, as I am failing,
Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2011/09/14 in Poetry

 

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Tanka – 20110820

Tanka

earth has four seasons
ocean tides two high two low
moon sun tug of war
rolling waves beside green field
the lens captures the flowers

seasons-tides

 
8 Comments

Posted by on 2011/08/20 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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Northern New England – Life in the slow lane

My wife and I often drive on secondary highways and interstate highways through the forest to places where nature stirs creative imaginations. Years ago, I would have added gravel roads, and foot paths, but I’ll leave those days to long ago memories.

Middlebury, Vermont was the destination plan for Monday. I drafted a list of directions with mileage, but at the last minute changed my mind adding several hours of travel, bypassing those narrow road mountain gaps that we have both traversed before. The additional miles of interstate highway weaved through the various mountain ranges in their full glory. Blue skies filled with enormous bright white clouds was definitely an additional treat, since the rain had been forecasted in the area.

Living near the coast, traveling northwest over several mountain ranges, certainly not a route an average crow would fly. We ended up in Burlington, on the shore of Lake Champlain. Looking west, across the lake, you could see the Adirondack Mountains in northern New York state. Looking north, east, and south, you could see the Green Mountains in Vermont. It is easy to see why the population of Burlington and surrounding area is growing so popular these days.

We were both pleased in by the beautiful mountains, even though we have seen them several times before. Something, perhaps being older, the mountains seem exceptionally beautiful this trip.

I should mention that we traveled through New Hampshire. The White Mountains and Lake Winnipesaukee are both beautiful and familiar landmarks. The wooden yachts moored at Meredith, New Hampshire, are works of art.

Although we didn’t spend as much time exploring Middlebury, as planned, I certainly captured the spirit of the area, just as I had imagined.

I had planned to poke around Bread Loaf School, but decided perhaps another time would be more reasonable. There are writers’ conferences everywhere, but the one at Bread Loaf Inn captures my interest, since Robert Frost is one of the top dozen poets I find special, spent more than 40 summers coming to the school and giving lectures there.

 
5 Comments

Posted by on 2011/08/09 in Reminiscing

 

Haiku – 20110806

Vermont mountain trail
framed with blackeyed Susans
twirling in the breeze

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2011/08/06 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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I see green, You see red, We see sunset

Sitting by the ocean’s edge, high up above the sea, and even higher above, is where the sea gulls play.

We watch the sun slowly sinking beyond the horizon, where the sky and the water meet, with great expectation of amazing colors. This is a very relaxing moment of the day, but to some, it is a very stressful time. A time when they are trying to record the climax of the setting sun on their new digital camera. Instead of looking at the sunset, they stare at the cameras… well that is another story.

So when does this burst of green happen, you know, or didn’t you have to read, “Le Rayon vert (1882)” by Jules Verne in French class. Well, after what seemed like endless, unsuccessful attempts, by various experiments, they finally saw visible green flashes of light – well, not everyone saw – the heros, too busy finding love in each other’s eyes, certainly were not paying attention to the results of various experiments, or the setting sun. This may be why you have never seen the green burst of the setting sun!

Have you ever seen this phenomenon? Those heros were in Scotland – you’ll have to read Jules Verne to find out why they were there.

Have I seen this phenomenon? If I told you, and you have never seen it, you wouldn’t believe me any way!

If you do see it, you could always come back and write a comment about what and when, during the setting sun you saw something green! I just might believe you.

The Green Ray, translated by M. de Hauteville          By Jules Verne (Google Books) (Page 306)

The sun was just half way below the horizon and its powerful rays were shot across the sky like golden arrows in the distance the cliffs of Mull and the summit of Ben More were bathed in brilliant purple light.

At last only a faint rim of gold skimmed the surface of the sea.

The Green Ray the Green Ray cried in one breath the brothers Dame Bess and Partridge whose eyes for one second had revelled in the incomparable tint of liquid jade.

Oliver and Helena alone had missed the phenomenon which had at last appeared after so many fruitless observations.

Just as the sun was shooting its last ray into space their eyes met and all else was forgotten in that glance.

But Helena had caught the black ray shining from the young man’s eyes and Oliver the blue ray beaming from hers!

The sun had gone down and neither Oliver nor Helena had seen the Green Ray.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2011/07/10 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Emily Dickinson

Oh so long ago, I was asked to read a poem, written by Emily Dickinson, aloud in Literature class. So, although she wrote somewhere around 1,800 poems, this one was my assignment:

Emily Dickinson (1830–86)

I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

While reading, “Poems by Emily Dickison, Three Series, Complete” Dickison, Emily, 1830-1886 on my Kindle, I wondered about what her homestead was like.

Her world was bounded by her home and its surrounding countryside…

On saturday, June 18th, we took a ride to Amherst, Massachusetts to see her homestead and try to imagine the spirit of her poetry flowing freely about.

They shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet –
Because they liked me “still”   –

Still! Could themself have peeped –
And seen my Brain – go round –
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason – in the Pound –

Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Look down opon Captivity –
And laugh – No more have I –

My latest research tells me to reread all of the Emily Dickinson’s poems over with a new imagination of who Emily might have been within those mansion walls…

 

 

 

 

 

 
11 Comments

Posted by on 2011/06/19 in Poetry, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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A Day Of Reflection

May 18th, 2009 my dad passed away – fun in the wilderness, where just being there was all that mattered… Oh, there were fields to plant, and cows to milk, between planting and harvesting on that Maryland dairy – but the move to the Maine wilderness – being surrounded by mountain forests, living by the water’s edge… just use your imagination.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2011/05/18 in Reminiscing

 

Just Imagining

just imagining

the beach, white sand along the water’s edge
crashing waves, roaring in the mist
a campfire, blanket spread near by
atramentous night sky brilliant with stars
lighting the way to forever

the campfire, with flickering flames
crackling, popping, lingering with fragrant cedar
warming thoughts in the cool ocean breeze
just imaging, what thoughts might be
watching forever – brilliant stars stir deeper thoughts

but tonight, not a soul around to share such beauty
in distant horizons windows glow with movies
just imagining, lonely faceless souls borrowing others dreams
while lyrics inspire, but seldom challenge the heart
stirring youthful days with life long memories

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2011/05/15 in Reminiscing

 

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A thing of beauty is a joy for ever

Endymion by: John Keats 1818 based on the poem on the Greek myth of Endymion, the shepherd beloved by the moon goddess Selene.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever

Although I like to quote, “I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,” because I like the idea of natural surprises beyond those near-by horizons that surround you, and sometimes causes your focus to become narrow and shallow. Keats quote, “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,” has a far more powerful depth, like standing tip-toe, you may want to embed this thought into your daily focus.

The poem is divided into four books, each approximately 1000 lines long. Book I gives Endymion’s account of his dreams and experiences, as related to Peona, and give the background for the rest of the poem.

Read the first stanza of “Endymion” copied here, and if you enjoy it, you can find the complete poem here (click)

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways::
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2011/03/26 in Poetry, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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muse or Muse – 9 goddesses

researching and reading for knowledge, and then being absorbed in thought, maybe one of the most valuable on-going activities of your life journey.

Meet Muse (click), and become absorbed in thought, then imagine how it could inspire your own creativity…

beyond Wikipedia, you can research more – it is worth it.

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muse, as a verb, you would be absorbed in thought, and as a noun, their would be an instance or period of reflection.

Muse, in Greek and Roman mythology, each of nine goddesses, the daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, who preside over the arts and sciences.

(muse) a woman, or a force personified as a woman, who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

The Muses are generally listed as Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Euterpe (flute playing and lyric poetry), Terpsichore (choral dancing and song), Erato (lyre playing and lyric poetry), Melpomene (tragedy), Thalia (comedy and light verse), Polyhymnia (hymns, and later mime), and Urania (astronomy).

credit: New Oxford American Dictionary

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2 Comments

Posted by on 2011/03/20 in Reading, Writing Tools

 

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Haiku – 20110302

youth cello summons
let me remind you the time
you inspired me

 

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2011/03/02 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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I Got Kindle 3G + Wifi

This is really not an advertisement, just geek excitement.

I thought about purchasing an eBook reader for the past several years. I finally decided on the Amazon Kindle 3G + Wi-Fi (third generation) and cover with light, just incase I’m am in the dark. The high contrast screen is even pleasant to read in artificial light and outdoors in the bright sunlight there is positively no glare, just crisp clear letters.

So far, I’m totally amazed and have downloaded 120 Free Kindle Classics from Amazon.com which are also available on Gutenberg.org. It was so funny opening my email and seeing 120 amazon receipts each for $0.00.

Ordinarily I would have had to buy a wagon to haul that many books around with me, including two dictionaries, and not have 3G access. With the Kindle, or any other brand of eBook, no matter how many books you have, it still weighs the same.

My biggest surprise was discovering the Power Cable and the USB Cable were the same cable. It is nice to have several ways to transfer back and forth from your personal computer. My Scrivener Writing Software can export to an eBook format – I smile.

You can transfer your favorite music and play it in the background while reading.

No, I won’t miss pulling that wagon around.

I remember searching for one line of text in my hardcover Shakespeare’s Complete Works for most of one the night, now I can find that same one line of text, in a digital version of the book, in less than a second, bookmark it, highlight it, or copy it into notes, not worrying about where my pen and paper were.

Well, within the past few years, I’ve purchased paperback versions of several of the classics for hundreds of dollars that I haven’t read yet – eBooks are the way to go and these were all free. The price of the Kindle is peanuts, as well as the price of commercial eBooks. Remember thousands of eBooks are free, even the Harvard Classics..

You can also download and read eBooks on your desktop computer, but it is nice to be mobil once in a while………. for a small fee you do have email, but who wants to be interrupted, while lost in a wonderful book?

I’m sure you’d be happy with whatever eBook reader you choose… I’m a happy camper with the one I chose. I Got Kindle

Harvard Classics (Bookshelf)

From Project Gutenberg, the first producer of free ebooks.

The Harvard Classics, originally known as Dr. Eliot’s Five Foot Shelf, is a 51-volume anthology of classic works from world literature, compiled and edited by Harvard University president Charles W. Eliot, that was first published in 1909.

Dr. Eliot, then President of Harvard University, had stated in speeches that the elements of a liberal education could be obtained by spending 15 minutes a day reading from a collection of books that could fit on a five-foot shelf. (Originally he had said a three-foot shelf.)

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2011/02/05 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Tanka – 20110202

snowflake jewels of white
beauty oh cold winter’s day
dance on diagonal winds
branchless trees and evergreens
mother earth magnificent

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2011/02/02 in Poetry, Reminiscing, Tanka

 

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Divine Comedy – Dante Alighieri

just a taste of Longfellow’s English translation.

The Divine Comedy Of Dante Alighieri
(1265-1321)

Translated By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807-1882)

Inferno: Canto I

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So bitter is it, death is little more;
But of the good to treat, which there I found,
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

I cannot well repeat how there I entered,
So full was I of slumber at the moment
In which I had abandoned the true way.

But after I had reached a mountain’s foot,
At that point where the valley terminated,
Which had with consternation pierced my heart,

Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
Vested already with that planet’s rays
Which leadeth others right by every road.

Then was the fear a little quieted
That in my heart’s lake had endured throughout
The night, which I had passed so piteously.

And even as he, who, with distressful breath,
Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,
Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left.

After my weary body I had rested,
The way resumed I on the desert slope,
So that the firm foot ever was the lower.

And lo! almost where the ascent began,
A panther light and swift exceedingly,
Which with a spotted skin was covered o’er!

And never moved she from before my face,
Nay, rather did impede so much my way,
That many times I to return had turned.

The time was the beginning of the morning,
And up the sun was mounting with those stars
That with him were, what time the Love Divine

At first in motion set those beauteous things;
So were to me occasion of good hope,
The variegated skin of that wild beast,

The hour of time, and the delicious season;
But not so much, that did not give me fear
A lion’s aspect which appeared to me.

He seemed as if against me he were coming
With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,
So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;

And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings
Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,
And many folk has caused to live forlorn!

She brought upon me so much heaviness,
With the affright that from her aspect came,
That I the hope relinquished of the height.

And as he is who willingly acquires,
And the time comes that causes him to lose,
Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,

E’en such made me that beast withouten peace,
Which, coming on against me by degrees
Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.

While I was rushing downward to the lowland,
Before mine eyes did one present himself,
Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.

When I beheld him in the desert vast,
“Have pity on me,” unto him I cried,
“Whiche’er thou art, or shade or real man!”

He answered me: “Not man; man once I was,
And both my parents were of Lombardy,
And Mantuans by country both of them.

‘Sub Julio’ was I born, though it was late,
And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
During the time of false and lying gods.

A poet was I, and I sang that just
Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
After that Ilion the superb was burned.

But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?
Why climb’st thou not the Mount Delectable,
Which is the source and cause of every joy?”

“Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain
Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?”
I made response to him with bashful forehead.

“O, of the other poets honour and light,
Avail me the long study and great love
That have impelled me to explore thy volume!

Thou art my master, and my author thou,
Thou art alone the one from whom I took
The beautiful style that has done honour to me.

Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.”

“Thee it behoves to take another road,”
Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
“If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;

Because this beast, at which thou criest out,
Suffers not any one to pass her way,
But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;

And has a nature so malign and ruthless,
That never doth she glut her greedy will,
And after food is hungrier than before.

Many the animals with whom she weds,
And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound
Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.

He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
‘Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;

Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
On whose account the maid Camilla died,
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;

Through every city shall he hunt her down,
Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,
There from whence envy first did let her loose.

Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,
And lead thee hence through the eternal place,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
Who cry out each one for the second death;

And thou shalt see those who contented are
Within the fire, because they hope to come,
Whene’er it may be, to the blessed people;

To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
With her at my departure I will leave thee;

Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
In that I was rebellious to his law,
Wills that through me none come into his city.

He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
There is his city and his lofty throne;
O happy he whom thereto he elects!”

And I to him: “Poet, I thee entreat,
By that same God whom thou didst never know,
So that I may escape this woe and worse,

Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,
And those thou makest so disconsolate.”

Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.

Inferno: Canto II ……………< snip

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2011/02/02 in Reminiscing

 

Words – Reflections and Echos

So often, while reading, I’ll stop to ponder a word, look up its meaning, search through a list of synonyms to even become more inspired by the meaning, experience how its sound feels to my ears, or how it shapes my mouth as I pronounce it. Even while silently pronouncing the word, or allowing it to briefly capture the attention of my eyes, closing my eyes to experience the explosion of thoughts flowing in every direction – scanning those long ago reminiscences, current thoughts, daring to challenge my future thoughts and dreams, enhancing my hopes, as well as magnifying my dreaded fears.

The most valuable tool on my computer is the dictionary. My once valuable unabridged dictionary sits on the shelf untouched. The click of a mouse, and I can find a definition, and focus on writing, not searching. With this in mind, with all our high tech tools, can we become smarter, wiser, and more creative, than those who have inspired us with their long ago knowledge?

Today, we are surrounded by a multi-level convergent media world where all modes of communication and information are continually reforming to adapt to the enduring demands of technologies, “changing the way we create, consume, learn and interact with each other”.[1]

1. (Jenkins, Henry (2006) Convergence Culture, New York University Press, New York.)

After reading a few poems, written by George Gordon Byron, and dozens of other long ago poets I enjoy reading and researching, It makes me wonder if words meant something different to them. I’m sure to some, but to be fair, I can say that about many of the authors, poets, and song writers today…

 
6 Comments

Posted by on 2011/01/23 in Reading, Reminiscing

 

2010 – the flickering flames of the old stone hearth

the flickering flames of the old stone hearth

where youth and aged bygone together beheld

now old ash cold gray, twinkling eyes forgot

the news that stirred the hearts now deprived

oh the new year, with cheerful rising sun

how quickly the night sky filled with starry light,

dims with the dawning of the new year.

 
7 Comments

Posted by on 2011/01/08 in Poetry

 

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Happy New Year 2011

Best Wishes To All

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2011/01/01 in Reminiscing

 

Tanka – 20101216

oh man in the moon
romantic secrets inspired
long distant lovers
whispering deep lonely dreams
wake at dawn – noisy blue jays

 

 

 
6 Comments

Posted by on 2010/12/16 in Reminiscing

 

Thoughts of a poem

I’ve spend week after week, twenty years or so ago, reading Thomas Hardy novels. One day, I discovered a book of his complete poems, containing over one thousand pages. I cracked the book opened, somewhere beyond the beginning, and started reading, The Darkling Thrush. It was the first time I had read poetry by Thomas Hardy, and I was quite amazed with the first poem I randomly selected.

Later in life, I looked up reviews, interpretations, summaries, and opinions, about Thomas Harding’s poetry, but was glad I had not been influenced by any thing other than my own personal thoughts.

The Darkling Thrush – 1900-12-31 – Thomas Hardy


I leant upon a coppice gate

When Frost was spectre-gray,

And Winter’s dregs made desolate

The weakening eye of day.

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

Like strings of broken lyres,

And all mankind that haunted nigh

Had sought their household fires.



The land’s sharp features seemed to be

The Century’s corpse outleant,

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

The wind his death-lament.

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

Was shrunken hard and dry,

And every spirit upon earth

Seemed fervourless as I.



At once a voice arose among

The bleak twigs overhead

In a full-hearted evensong

Of joy illimited;

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,

In blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

Upon the growing gloom.



So little cause for carolings

Of such ecstatic sound

Was written on terrestrial things

Afar or nigh around,

That I could think there trembled through

His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

And I was unaware

***

I remember snow-shoeing through the wilderness on some of the darkest stormy days of winter. It was days like that appealed to me the most. There is something about being, “far from the maddening crowds”, deep in the frozen forest, when a tiny wild bird lands on a branch in front of your face, and sings a beautiful song. It is one of those things you never forget. So you can imagine this experience coming to mind, after reading, The Darkling Thrush.

 
7 Comments

Posted by on 2010/12/14 in Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20101208

new phase moon gone by
star beyond still there waiting
kill the albatross

the passing of the new moon, a distant bright star in the black december sky, stirred my thoughts back to long ago, when I like the wedding guest, listened to, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”

day after day, day after day,
we stuck, nor breath nor motion;
as idle as a painted ship
upon a painted ocean.
water, water, everywhere,
and all the boards did shrink;
water, water, everywhere,
nor any drop to drink.

i have since, searched the souls of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who first published his famous ballad in 1798 in the first edition of Lyrical Ballads, in joint effort with his close friend and colleague William Wordsworth…

some sources say the poem was inspired while, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Wordsworth’s sister, Dorothy were hiking through the Quantock Hills in Somerset – discussion had turned to a book that one of the hikers was reading and inspired Coleridge…

Coleridge uses narrative techniques: personification and repetition, creating either a sense of danger, or of the supernatural, depending on the mood of different parts of his longest major poem.

as you read, keep your ear tuned to the characters:

wedding guest
the sailors
albatross
death
the night-mare life-in-death
pilot
pilot’s boy
hermit
first voice
second voice

let me know what you thought…

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2010/12/08 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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been there

far off the highway you never knew existed
on winter’s edge where the black raven lives
heavy falling snowflakes twirling in the wind
blur back, floating white, close your eyes, imagine

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/12/03 in Poetry, Reminiscing

 

Reading Francine Prose

Goldengrove: A Novel

Blue Angel: A Novel

Imagine trying to choose between two delightful books – something I have no intention of doing. I have totally enjoyed the characters in both books, and often reflect on their fictional lives.

Did you ever wish you had friends like the characters you discover in your favorite novels. Notice I said novels. We never capture the full depth of characters we watch in the movies. There is not enough time to stir their lives and attributes around in our heads – don’t kid yourself, if you’re thinking a movie actually is a reflection of the writers creative writing. All you are seeing is what the producer allows you to see. Some movies are nothing like the book, perhaps only an abstract idea.

Just because an actor or actress makes thirty million dollars to play a character in the movie, doesn’t means she really looks like the same character in your mind, while reading the original novel, the movie is trying to represent.

Imagine having a third party interpreter tell you what you are thinking about your lover, or what your lover is thinking about you?

Wouldn’t you rather experience eating a hot thick slice of freshly baked bread right out of the oven, while watching the slab of butter melting, as it get closer to your mouth. Kind of makes your mouth drool. Not to mention the aroma of the baked bread lingering in the kitchen, while the flavor of the first bite entices you to take another, then another.

Reading a novel is kind of like the same thing, your mind experiences everything the writer has given you, as it creates the physical personification of each character from those very brief character studies.

Your thoughts make the book personal and a wonderful experience to read, the writer is just fueling your imagination. Well, the writer is actually doing much more than that, but we wouldn’t want a writer to go around with a swelled head, knowing he or she was the god of their novel. Readers are just like the characters of the novel god, they are going to do exactly as they want to do – your mind will twist and turn the writer’s novel into its own journey from the first page to the ending – honest! We just find a favorite writer that writes the books we enjoy twisting and turning the most…

Often, while reading, I’ll close my eyes, and experience the reflections twirling around in my mind.

Blue Angel: A Novel - I want imagine:

The setting of  the beautiful, bucolic Easton College and novelist Ted Swenson approaching 50, teaching  one two-hour  session a week with a class of nine aspiring undergraduate writers, especially the work of a talented and enigmatically seductive student, Angela Argo, a “skinny, pale redhead with neon-orange and lime-green streaks in her hair and a delicate, sharp-featured face pierced in a half-dozen places.” When she enters — or, rather, storms — into Swenson’s life of repressed longings, all hell breaks loose. And who better to skewer the resulting circus and its performers than Francine Prose?

Goldengrove: A Novel – I want to imagine:

Novel, narrator Nico, 13, comes upon Gerard Manley Hopkins’s ‘Spring and Fall’ (which opens ‘Margaret, are you grieving/ Over Goldengrove unleaving?’) in her father’s upstate New York bookstore, also named Goldengrove. It’s the summer after her adored older sister, Margaret — possessed of beauty, a lovely singing voice and a poetic nature — casually dove from a rowboat in a nearby lake and drowned. In emotive detail, Nico relates the subsequent events of that summer. Nico was a willing confidant and decoy in Margaret’s clandestine romance with a high school classmate….

Sorry, I forgot to tell you about the two novels I listed above. You’ll just have to read and review them yourselves, and if you are like me, you’ll read favorite books twenty years or so later and close your eyes, and experience the new reflections twirling around in your own mind, you missed the first time, with older experienced eyes.

How would you compare reading a favorite novel to watching a movie?

Note: Book descriptions borrowed from the publishers or reviews…

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2010/11/27 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – beaver moon

NovemberMoonpng

 

faceless shopping crowds
rushing to and from markets
beaver moon face beams

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/11/20 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Beyond My Professional Life I See…

I feel the warmth of the high desert sun drifting lazily across a bright blue sky, scattered with snow white puffy clouds. The earth, a mixture of deep dark greens and bright yellow vegetation, blending with the rich red rock cliffs, worn smooth by the long ago floods that ancient native American voices wove into mystical chronicles, echoing through the whispering wind to the eager ears of youth, listening for those spirits of long ago ancestors of the high desert.

The setting sun, paints the late evening bright blue sky, scattered with snow white puffy clouds, with reds, oranges, and yellows. The darkest black night sky you have ever imagined appears above you, until you look up again. Now millions of bright stars light up the heavens from horizon to horizon. The wind dies down, the daily reflections of your mind, subtly transcend into a spring of silence you have never heard before, bubbling with whispers of new visions. A distant coyote breaks the silence, another answers, as the dawn pushes the night sky westward, the bright stars disappear into a sky of vivid reds painted by the rising sun, splashing subtle shades of purple on the earth

Soon, I feel the warmth of the high desert sun drifting lazily across a bright blue sky, scattered with snow white puffy clouds.

I feel like I have visited my deepest imagination, I have witnessed a new earth and night sky that I have never seen so beautiful before, and in the mystical light of the morning sun, I see those refreshing colors of the earth, a mixture of deep dark greens and bright yellow vegetation, blending with the rich red rock cliffs, worn smooth.

New Mexico I see those worn paths, where ancient life journeyed, and from those worn paths, where ancient life has felt the warmth of the high desert sun, have seen the bright blue skies, snow white puffy clouds, deep dark greens and bright yellows, red rock cliffs worn smooth. The ancient life have seen the painted skies of the evening sun, those inky black night skies over head, where millions of bright stars lit up the heavens from horizon to horizon. They felt the dying wind, the daily reflections of their minds subtly transcending into a spring of silence and they had thoughts bubbling with whispers of new visions, they heard the distant coyotes breaking the silence, saying good bye as the dawn pushed the night sky westward, the once bright stars disappeared into the same sky of a new day, just as I have seen.

I hope someday I will feel the warmth of the high desert sun, and see the beautiful colors, the beautiful skies, both night and day, and hear the spring of silence and have bubbling thoughts with whispers of new visions, just like those ancient lives of long ago.

Listen carefully, the distant coyotes are calling. Listen carefully, those ancient native American mystical songs, are echoing through the whispering wind…

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2010/11/07 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20101031

the frosty glass poet
his poem vanishes quickly
with the morning sun

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2010/10/31 in Reminiscing

 

Halloween 2010

autumn starless night
the howling silent winds blow
the hearth fire dies

 

long ago, walking from farm to farm, i remember the path through the darkest woods you could ever imagine, as the swirling wind stirred the dry fallen autumn leaves, crunching and crackling, they echoed under foot, often giving me the premonition that someone or a creature of the dark was following me… when i stopped, the crunching and crackling stopped – my heart pounded, while the hair on the back of my neck stood tall.

can you remember fear wrapping around you on a long ago halloween night?

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2010/10/31 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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10-10-10

It is interesting to watch the calendar rolling out three-of-a-kind, but it will only last two more years. If you are quick, you can even watch the clock strike three-of-a-kind during the AM and PM, but you must be quick.

We went out this afternoon to top off the tank, so I didn’t have to stop during my daily commute to and from the office. It was a bright clear day, but I felt a chill.

A hot cup of coffee helped to warm me up…

 
Cherokee Cup From Tahlequah, OK

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2010/10/10 in Reminiscing

 

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Natural Beauty

beyond the skilled florists and the greenhouses, where natural beauty mingles between birth and death, without fear, domestic flowers survive.

my wife always seems to be transplanting domestic flowers from the garden to the meadows, where they can drink the waters of  heaven, and absorb the natural minerals of the natural soil. i often wonder if a flower complains of where it is rooted, or what plants grow nearby.

if i were a flower, i’d prefer to live in the meadow, far from the pinching fingers of a florists.

notice the cycle of life in the photo below…

Pink-LaFluer-01

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2010/07/12 in Reminiscing

 

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Summer Solstice 2010

it is amazing how rapidly the spring season soared by.

happy solstice to all in the northern hemisphere and happy winter to all of you in the southern hemisphere…

Mark the time: June 21st, 7:28 AM – warm summer days beg

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 2010/06/20 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20100320

 

the fresh salty air
gentle waves at kettle cove
the spring equinox

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2010/03/20 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20100316

long long ago, as a teenage boy, living in the northwest wilderness of Maine, the sounds of nature were as amazing as its beauty. imagine sitting on a frozen lake on a very still and starless night, the temperature dropping down to 30 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. the ice on the lake surface is 42 inches thick. suddenly the ice contracts under you, the fissure travels a mile and a half to the shore. the extremely loud high pitch creaking thunder follows the splitting ice, scaring you half to death, if you were never aware this happens, then the thunder is carried in multiple echoes between mountains. it is a very frightening experience – your first thought is that you are going to drown. when you realize you were not going to drown – you are thankful for this Haiku Moment.

normally, Haiku doesn’t require a commentary, it is what it is – interpreted in many ways, by many readers – a Haiku Moment – let me know if you have heard this sound?


a cold night it was
cracking ice on midnight lake
thundered shore to shore



 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2010/03/16 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20100303

first flash of lightning
and blast of rolling thunder
the fearful creatures

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2010/03/03 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20100301

classic violin
it lifts the souls of many
i just close my eyes

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/03/01 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiga – 20100228

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/02/28 in Haiga, Poetry

 

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Tanka – 20100216

the bright morning star
traveling through eastern sky
the bright evening star
traveling through western sky
oh sometimes i wonder if

 
6 Comments

Posted by on 2010/02/16 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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Haiku – 20100215

on the horizon
where the darkness meets the light
my sunset your dawn

 
6 Comments

Posted by on 2010/02/15 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiga – 20100131

coldAtlantic

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/01/31 in Haiga, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20100128

an ode to living
ancient poems and those old songs
life long companions

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/01/28 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20100122


multitude of stars
paint the darkest midnight sky
i remember you

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2010/01/22 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20100103

pink sun blue sky dawn
stirring white snow clouds parting
my wishful thinking

 
4 Comments

Posted by on 2010/01/03 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – Happy New Year 2010

a new beginning
pursue the goals of your dreams
with an open mind

.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 2010/01/01 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091231

falling white snow
colorful blue jays playing
delightful white noise

.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on 2009/12/31 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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Red or Green Chile?

You will use green chilies primarily after they have been roasted and peeled, and you will use red chilies in the form of a powder. The flavor? That is up to you to discover.

Red or Green, Chile is the fire of the sauce! Remember the goal is flavor – not total meltdown.

What do you put on your Cheeseburger?

A great cookbook:

‘The Feast of Santa Fe – Cooking of the American Southwest – Huntley Dent”

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/26 in Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Thoughts On Christmas Morning 2009

With the smell of baking bread drifting in from the kitchen, I sit at my desk enjoying the January 2010 issue of New Mexico Magazine. Old memories of ice fishing in the northwest wilderness of Maine stir through my thoughts, while reading the story about ice fishing on Eagle’s Nest Lake, high in the Northern New Mexico’s Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range.

Pondering on cold weather activities, thoughts of Red or Green Chile, the two major flavors in Southwest cooking, provoke an image of the flickering flames of the hearth, and savoring thoughts of the supper I just read in the magazine’s two recipes, Green Chile, Tomato, and Potato Soup with Goat Cheese and Tri-Colored Roasted Bell and Poblano Pepper Sandwiches.

It is hard, not to think about the beautiful high desert colors, 300 days of sunshine, and wintertime hot and spicy suppers.

One of these days, we will live in the dream of the Land of Enchantment, and the biggest decisions of the day will be Red or Green.

***********

Thanks to Tricia Ware – Editor In Chief, and the whole team, for creating the beautiful New Mexico Magazine.

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/25 in Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20091224

the flickering hearth
the ancient story is told
children daydreaming

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/24 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiga – 20091221

the first winter’s night
the artist’s knife composes
the man in the moon

WinterCresent209

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/21 in Haiga, Poetry

 

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Happy Winter 2009

Happy Winter to the citizens of the world

2009

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/21 in Reminiscing

 

Haiku – 20091220

the cold winter’s eve
my favorite time of year
spiritual mystery

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/20 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091219

large snow flakes drifting
on the horizontal winds
seven black ravens

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/19 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiga – 20091213

salty arctic wind
two girls filling the kelp pail
acrobatic gulls

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/13 in Haiga, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091212

naked gray branches
quiet birds with puffy feathers
i love my snowshoes

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/12 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091211

two ravens gliding
farmhouse window panes whisper
sounds of howling wind

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/11 in Haiga, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091210

bright white stars above
crashing waves upon the shoals
a shouting bellbuoy

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/10 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091209


birds seeking shelter
snow began at morning dawn
i took the day off

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/09 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091208

far from city lights
while wilderness creatures watch
a falling star dies

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/08 in Haiga, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091207

veteran graveyard
white flurries fly by night
to warm our fathers

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/07 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091207

northern saw-whet owl
above the sharpening stone
a perfect duet

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/07 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Prelude – Johann Sebastian Bach

A stirring invitation reflecting the events to come, so vivid, insightful, and engaging; illuminating the imagination to soar, glide, and dive, peacefully into the storms, the whirlwinds, and the calm.

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/06 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20091206

gentle falling snow
silent is the midnight hour
full moon is missing

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/06 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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20091203 – photoFilterMoonLight

Tonight

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/03 in Photography

 

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Haiku – 20091202

frigid arctic breath
paints ice crystals so fragile
the sun rose in awe

 
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Posted by on 2009/12/02 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiga – 20091129

afternoon sunshine
slowly drifts into the sea
pleasing to the eyes

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/29 in Haiga, Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiga – 20091128

gentle ocean breeze
summer tourist have long gone
late November sky

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/28 in Haiga, Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091127

rainy black friday
bright streams of liquid color
yellow rain slickers

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/27 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Tanka – 20091126

souvenirs of her
words reflected on the page
paint as well as can
fragrances our fingers sought
vanish in the drying ink

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/26 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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Happy Thanksgiving – 2009

Happy Thanksgiving – 2009

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/25 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiga – 20091125

village by the sea
solitary gull hovers
longfellow lyrics

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/25 in Haiga, Haiku, Photography, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091124

from the woodland path
the wilderness winds whisper
waking sleepy waves

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/24 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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20091123 – Haiku

father died today
as i close my eyes
my tears wave good-bye

(a Haiku Commemorating My Father Who Died May 18th, 2009)

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/23 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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20091122 – Haiga

inky black night sky

lonely crescent moon

no evening star

22november09cm

 

 

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/22 in Haiga, Haiku, Poetry

 

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Haiku – 20091122

passing over the bridge

a reflection caught my eye

old cold crescent moon

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

near this reflection

a very bright light indeed

beautiful venus

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/22 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091121

sitting on the dead branch
old black crow watches
every move you make

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

on the clothes line pole
two old bluejays sit observing
the young dog’s breakfast

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/20 in Haiku, Poetry, Reminiscing

 

Haiku – 20091120

haiku

by the old stone fence
songs of meadow creatures greet
the frosty moon rising

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

from a far distance
the call of the loon echoes
into the quiet night

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/20 in Haiku, Poetry

 

20091119

haiku

through my darkest dreams
north wind stirs those old dead leaves
at the midnight hour

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/19 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiga – 20091116

from this woodland path
these eyes have seen the open sea
at the edge of dusk

edgeOfdawn

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/16 in Haiga, Haiku, Poetry

 

Tanka – 20091115

Tanka

 

beneath the moonlight
where romantic lovers play
light soft and silent
only eyes of the hearts can see
fingertips compose love songs

 

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/15 in Poetry, Tanka

 

an experiment

did you every try to copy something you saw on the internet or anywhere else for that matter, just to figure out how it may have been created?

well, a few years ago i tried to recreate this graphic some clever soul had created – it was a great way to get hands-on experience with an application i seldom used. today, i use this application for fun, something that has nothing to do with project deadlines and racing the clock!

corel-gear-wood-a

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/11 in Reminiscing

 

Happy Birthday 11/11/09

HappyBirthday-2009

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/10 in Haiku, Photography, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091110

haiku

from the twisted branch
that old black crow sits watching
wild turkeys pass

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/10 in Haiku, Poetry

 

tanka – 20091108

Tanka

 

early november
dawn racing the rising sun
a beautiful hour
frost painted vines and berries
hide from the hungry blue jays

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/08 in Poetry, Tanka

 

Haiku – 20091108

haiku

 

awesome midnight moon
the celestial shapeshifter
fingernail tonight

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/08 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091107

haiku

upon the mountain
searching the future
long ago visions

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/07 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Haiku – 20091103

haiku

 

faded autumn leaves
falling into the whirlwind
race by in moon light

 

 

 
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Posted by on 2009/11/04 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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November 2009 Full Moon – Right Brain

20091101moongimpTX2

Although the correct time of the November Full Moon is dated: November 2, 19:14 UTM, I thought I’d post a day earlier. Since we have just fallen off Daylight Savings Time here in the USA. I’ll let you calculate the exact phase of the November moon when this image was taken at 6:00 PM Sunday Evening November 1st. 2009!

Just to trick you, I filtered this image through GIMP so there would be no way of seeing a difference between this phase and the exact Full Moon Phase.

This way you can imagine looking at it with the Right Brain just like you would glance up at it while walking hand-in-hand with your favorite friend or spouse.

Just in case you never heard of your Right Brain – your body is controlled by a Right Brain and a Left Brain! Are you surprised?

The right-hand side of the human brain, believed to be associated with creative thought and the emotions.

The left-hand side of the human brain, which is believed to be associated with linear and analytical thought.

Ever wonder why some of us are so unsatisfied with our positions in life? I’m not saying there is anything wrong with our positions in life, but just maybe there is something missing and we can’t seem to put our finger on it?

I can say I’ve been there, Done that! I don’t want to rule the future, but I want to someday retire and live the rest of my life with that something the past 40 years had been missing as part of my profession and to make it a priority the rest of my life! I consider the majority of my hobbies as Right Brain, so after retirement – hobbies WILL EVOLVE INTO FULL TIME!

Daniel H. Pink, author of A Whole New Mind – Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future says:
A Whole New Mind is for anyone who wants to survive and thrive in this emerging world – people uneasy with their careers or dissatisfied with their lives, entrepreneurs and business leaders eager to stay ahead of the next new wave, parents who want to equip their children for the future, and the legions of emotionally astute and creatively adroit people whose distinctive abilities the Information Age has often overlooked and undervalued.
In this book, you will learn the six essential aptitudes – what he calls “the six senses” – on which professional success and personal satisfaction increasingly will depend. Design, Story, Symphony, Empathy, Play, Meaning. These are fundamentally human abilities that everyone can master – and helping you do that is my (Daniel H. Pink) goal.

 
 

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Tossing of the Rose

While sitting on the top of a cliff high above the ocean, I watched a small group of people descend the steep trail onto the rocks by the water’s edge. They stood in the salty spray, each holding a rose and bowed their heads. I imagined the group was a procession of mourners far from the burial of someone dear to them. Two young women, one holding a baby girl, a teenage boy, and a young girl all turned their heads and tossed their rose into the breaking waves of the sea, then stood holding hands, united in deep sorrow.

While they stood together watching the roses being swept away into the deep blue sea, I reflected on the recent deaths of my father and my sister’s husband. For a few moments, I could clearly see them in my mind, while a peaceful calm swept through my thoughts.

Watching the young procession of mourners, as they stood in the salty spray beside the sea, I imaged myself from a distance, beside them, tossing roses for all our family members that have passed on.

There is a profound mystical attraction to the sea that comforts the lamenting soul.

 
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Posted by on 2009/09/18 in Reminiscing

 

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Two Lights State Park Revisited

2L001_26-625mm

tinkering with the wide angle 24X zoom lens on my Nikon P90 and not using digital zoom settings it is possible to end up with fairly reasonable results – moving objects require enough speed to stop action and a lens f-stop large enough for sharp detail – focus should include objects at various distances from the camera …… the image is a composite of three photos taken with the same lens.

if you squint, you should be able to see the tanker on the horizon or click on the image to see a larger image on Flickr.

 
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Posted by on 2009/09/17 in Photography

 

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Two Lights State Park

2L-001

this afternoon, at two light state park in cape elizabeth, maine the weather was pleasant and only a light breeze was stirring. i was amazed by the sound of thunder coming from small waves as they crashed into the rocky coastline. very few tourist and not very much activity on the water.

 
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Posted by on 2009/09/15 in Reminiscing

 

Summertime Reflections

20090815

on September 1st, 1985, my wife, daughter, and friends joined me on a short journey to Haverhill, Massachusetts to the homestead of John Greenleaf Whittier. if you are familiar with this early american poet, the following will make sense to you:

we took a ride to visit his homestead
the poet i read while laying in bed

we saw his house, the small desk and chair
the poems i read, he wrote sitting there

we saw his fireplace and felt the glow
remembering Snowbound shut-in by snow

hung on the wall was a red riding hood
left behind by love we have understood

my wife found an acorn under a tree
now as i hold it the homestead i see

well on August 15, 2009, saturday, before noon,  after reading from Stephen Greenblatt’s Will in the World How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare, i thought it would be interesting to spend the afternoon being tourists around the Haverhill, Massachusetts area, while imagining the summers of long ago that may have influenced John Greenleaf Whittier to translate into poetry.

Well, traveling in Southern Maine and Coastal New Hampshire, with temperatures hovering around 90 degrees, we decided to turn westbound, get something to eat, then head back to Southern Maine. traveling on interstate highways are scenic to a point and the RampVan air conditioning was working well, but today was too hot to play follow the leader in erratic traffic.

comparing the image on this post with the few verses of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Dream, i’ll let you decide if traveling with the stop and go traffic patterns of restless families heading to ocean beaches before some of them reach their boiling point. the northbound lanes were backed up for MILES!

A Midsummer Night’s Dream” 2.1. 249-256:

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamelled skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

 
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Posted by on 2009/08/16 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Just a photo filtered crow

Crow02

This crow was much further away from the camera than you’d imagine – it is fun to play with photo editing filters

 
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Posted by on 2009/08/05 in Photography

 

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Northeast Harbor

NEH20090803

Activities of the wealthy and the working at Northeast Harbor was interesting to watch, but near-by Somes Sound was much more interesting to see and read about:

http://www.acadiamagic.com/SomesSound.html

The best way to capture the flavor of Acadia National Park is to hike every trail at least one time for each of the 4 seasons – i would have given anything to have enjoyed this once long ago simple task!

 
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Posted by on 2009/08/05 in Reminiscing

 

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Foggy Casco Bay

20090726-001aG

There is always activity around the Portland Harbor in Casco Bay, but this summer seems very slow.

 
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Posted by on 2009/07/26 in Reminiscing

 

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The Reapers – A Thriller

i finished reading The Dante Club by Matthew Pearl for the second time – missed subtle things the first time around. this time i researched The Divine Comedy Of Dante Alighieri translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), while reading the novel. it is amazing what you discover re-reading a novel.

i have been reading a half dozen or so John Connolly books and i’ve decided to read The Reapers next. this is private detective Charlie Parker book#7 and i don’t know much about this book – it will be interesting to find out.

sometimes it is good to start reading a novel without any previous knowledge of the story and be surprised as it unfolds. a good thriller helps you forget your surroundings – a great escape.

John Connolly used to live here in southern Maine, a few miles from me, although i never knew him. He now lives in Dublin, Ireland.

 
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Posted by on 2009/07/18 in Books, Reading

 

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Portland, Maine – a pleasant day to play

LowerFloors-gx2

on saturday, we left the RampVan in the office parking lot, headed downtown, and around the Old Port Area. it was a great day to take a few photographs and enjoy a lunch of fish and chips. a very peaceful day to pretend we were tourists.

the thunder storm didn’t start until 3:15 AM in the morning. it poured to the tune of the loud rolling thunder and strobes of bright lightning.

 
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Posted by on 2009/07/12 in Reminiscing

 

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July 4th Sunshine

4julysun-0001

It was nice to see the sunshine today. The sound of rumbling thunder played in the distance, as storm clouds circled overhead.

 
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Posted by on 2009/07/04 in Reminiscing

 

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The Dante Club Quote

“Till America has learned to love literature not as an amusement, not as mere doggerel to memorize in a college room, but for its humanizing and ennobling energy, my dear reverend president, she will not have succeeded in that high sense which alone makes a nation out of people. That which raises it from a dead name to a living power.”

Matthew Pearl – The Dante Club

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/22 in Books

 

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Data Inspection of the Faceless Gods

The Following was quoted from BBC News

Snip…

Nokia Siemens, a joint venture between the Finnish and German companies, supplied the system to Iran through its Intelligent Solutions business, which was sold in March 2009 to Perusa Partners Fund 1LP, a German investment firm.

The product allows authorities to monitor any communications across a network, including voice calls, text messaging, instant messages, and web traffic.

But Nokia Siemens says the product is only being used, in Iran, for the monitoring of local telephone calls on fixed and mobile lines.

Rather than just block traffic, it is understood that the monitoring system can also interrogate data to see what information is being passed back and forth.

A spokesman described the system as “a standard architecture that the world’s governments use for lawful intercept”

…Snip

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/22 in Faceless Gods

 

The Dante Club – Matthew Pearl

I’ve own hardbound copies of The Harvard Classics and after reading Matthew Pearl’s The Dante Club, I discovered The Divine Comedy Of Dante Alighieri in The Harvard Classics is not the translation translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1882), but the translation translated by Henry Francis Cary (1805-1814).

The first American translation of The Divine Comedy Of Dante Alighieri was by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and still widely read.

I recommend reading Matthew Pearl’s  The Dante Club. I’ll keep my opinions to myself and let you discover your own – There is plenty to discover!

I have read most of Matthew Pearl’s The Dante Club, but decided to read it again – only this time I am going to follow along with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s translation of The Divine Comedy Of Dante Alighieri.

Who in the world is Dante?
Dante degli Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet wrote The Divine Comedy (1309-1320) an epic poem that describes his spiritual journey through Hell and Purgatory and finally to Paradise. (What’s love have to do with it?)

You may enjoy discovering facts about – Dante degli Alighieri…

Note:
Comedy – ORIGIN late Middle English (as a genre of drama, also denoting a narrative poem with a happy ending, as in Dante’s Divine Comedy)

Two more novels of a great writer.  I picked up Matthew Pearl’s The Poe Shadow to read next. I also plan to read Matthew Pearl’s The Last Dickens real soon. I’ll let you know what I discovered in both of these novel after reading them.

For Your Info:

The Harvard Classics

The Harvard Classics, originally known as Dr. Eliot’s Five Foot Shelf, is a 51-volume anthology of classic works from world literature, compiled and edited by Harvard University president Charles W. Eliot that was first published in 1909.

Eliot, then President of Harvard University, had stated in speeches that the elements of a liberal education could be obtained by spending 15 minutes a day reading from a collection of books that could fit on a five-foot shelf. (Originally he had said a three-foot shelf.)

I think those who are interested in these volumes will read every word and spend hour after hour enjoying the journey through them.

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/20 in Books, Reading

 

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Canadian Road – Attean

AtteanMemories.001

When we moved from our Maryland dairy to the northwest wilderness of Maine on the United States-Canadian border, during the spring of 1961, there was 10 feet of snow in our lakeside driveway. Looking westward from the windows of the rustic hand-hewed log cabin, we enjoyed a panoramic vista of the wilderness across the lake where the mountainous horizon beyond merged into the Province of Quebec.

The majority of the town citizen’s ancestors came from either Quebec or New Brunswick, Canada. It was only recent that I discovered some of my schoolmate’s ancestors came from Labrador – answering why I thought they looked like Eskimos, but actually have French and Inuit bloodlines. I would have never guess the similarities.

North of the border, the forested wilderness thinned into rolling farm country and the small towns were each centered around huge stone Roman Catholic cathedrals. My first visit to Canada I thought the French Canadian families were the happiest people on earth. The music and the food was exciting to hear and taste.

My wife and I continue to sample the Canadian meat-pie (Tourtière de l’Île) annually during the Christmas holidays, while remembering some of the old French families that shared their ancient recipes handed down through the generations.

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/14 in Reminiscing

 

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Flag Day USA

StarsAndStripes.001

June 14, the anniversary of the adoption of the Stars and Stripes as the official U.S. flag in 1777.

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/14 in Reminiscing

 

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Webhannet River – Jetties

Webhannet-Jetties

Webhannet River

In 1965, the north and south jetties were extended seaward 1,225 and 1,300 ft (400 m), respectively. Extensions were parallel to one another, spaced 425 ft (130 m) apart, and terminated at a depth of eight feet below the low-water mark.

From the parking lot, I tested my 24X digital camera – the two images on the right are the parallel extensions. Sandy beaches are to the north and south.

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/12 in Reminiscing

 

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A Bend In The Road

mw-001

Sometimes a bend in the road can surprise the traveler with an amazing view. This bend in the road always amazes me, no matter how many times I travel around it.

Do you have remember traveling on highways were the bends in the road bring a smile to your face?

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/09 in Reminiscing

 

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Weather Worn Character

WeatherWorn

as we age, our bodies change, but the older we get, the more our faces show character.

i was observing the buildings in the neighborhood and noticed the buildings that were old and weather worn had character too.

perchance weather worn buildings remind us of an old enduring energy or a long ago place of those youthful days where we once felt secure.

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/08 in Reminiscing

 

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Annie Dillard – The Maytrees

somewhere around 34 years ago, i read the Pulitzer-Prize winning “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” by Annie Dillard. i have read all of her books since – thanks for sharing Annie!

this weekend, i finished reading “The Maytrees”. the next time i visit Cape Cod, Massachusetts, i will see things i didn’t see on my last visit back in the 1980s. it is always nice to brush up on your history when traveling or visiting somewhere – it makes all the difference in the world.

i love big words to look up and name dropping – i look them up too. if you don’t know what i mean, you may want to read Annie’s books – it will be like taking a class for extra credits about…well…

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“Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?”

“Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us with wisdom, courage and the possibility of meaningfulness, and will press upon our minds the deepest mysteries, so we may feel again their majesty and power?”

Annie Dillard, “The Writing Life” 1989

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Annie Dillard – Official Website

 
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Posted by on 2009/06/07 in Books, Reminiscing

 

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Soaring Gull on the winds of the North Atlantic

GullFlight-002

My wife captured the energy of this soaring gull at Two Lights State Park in Cape Elisabeth, Maine, while the waves of the North Atlantic Ocean crashed into the rocky cliffs below.

Sometimes we search the skies for soaring eagles, ignoring the graceful birds that fly all around us.

Two Lights State Park in Cape Elisabeth, Maine is a wonderful place to focus on nature, surrounded by the fragrance of the salty mist, the roar of crashing waves, and cool ocean breezes.

 
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Posted by on 2009/05/29 in Reminiscing

 

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Webhannet River

MissEllie-01

A week later, in hopes of photographing a Ruddy Turnstone or Sandpiper, I discovered it was still too early in the Spring and settled with another image of a lobster boat moored in the Webhannet River in Wells, Maine.

Researching the shore birds that stop along the Maine coast to rest up and refuel, actually fly non-stop for 2000 miles over the Atlantic Ocean to South America. For those that didn’t properly rest or refuel (they need to double their weight, usually taking 10 to 20 days, before continuing their journey) drop into the Atlantic Ocean and drown, or may land in South America and die after landing.

These migratory birds have been stopping along the coast of Maine for generations…

If you are interested to learn about these amazing little feathered buddies – some actually fly 3000 miles non-stop – you may wonder how long these journeys take – one banded bird flew from Eastport, Maine to South America in 48 hours – check out this informative link:

Migrating Shorebirds In Maine

 
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Posted by on 2009/05/25 in Reminiscing

 

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Scarborough Salt Marsh

saltMarsh-20090410-001

In hopes of photographing a Ruddy Turnstone or Sandpiper, I discovered it was still too early in the Spring and settled with an image of a lobster boat moored in the mouth of the Scarborough River at the entrance of a great salt marsh.

Abenaki Indians called the area Owascoag, meaning “a place of much grass” after its large salt marshes.

Scarborough Marsh Wildlife Management Area, owned and managed by Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife is well-known as one of Maine’s premier salt marshes. The 3,100 acre estuary is the largest salt marsh in the state, comprising tidal marsh, salt creeks, freshwater marsh and uplands.

Today, Scarborough Marsh is a livelihood for clam diggers, a classroom for schoolchildren, a laboratory for biologists, prime territory for fishermen and hunters and a fascinating, ever-changing world for naturalists, especially birders. Every spring and summer more than 10,000 people begin their journey into the marsh at Scarborough Marsh Audubon Center.

Click the link for a list of 242 birds discovered in this area:

Maine Bird Checklist – Scarborough Marsh

 
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Posted by on 2009/05/10 in Reminiscing

 

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Liberty

cascoBay-20090409.001

I was looking out over Casco Bay this afternoon. while sitting in the Liberty Ship Memorial at Bug Light Park in South Portland, Maine. The memorial is a partial skeleton of a life size Liberty Ship. This museum is a great reminder of how people pulled together during World War II to protect and defend this country and its allies.

The park is a great place to watch the marine activities going on in Portland Harbor and Casco Bay.

274 Liberty ships and Ocean ships were built on the site during World War II. These vessels played an important role carrying supplies across the Atlantic during the war.

Every time I visit the park, I see several old timers that must drop by every day to see their old friends that worked together with them building Liberty Ships.

With the historical thoughts of Clipper Ships and Liberty Ships I sandwiched two filtered images together that I took today.

 
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Posted by on 2009/05/09 in Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – 20090418

haiku

ancient woodlands with
the fragrance of spring flowers
wisdom of nature

 
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Posted by on 2009/04/18 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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vernal equinox 2009

SailOfBugLight

Our two favorite days to escape to the White Mountains for the day are the vernal equinox and the winter solstice. Today was a bright sunny day and the mountain air was still fairly brisk. Mount Washington still dressed in snow dominated the horizon.

There were still tourists from various states and Canada drawn by the variety of winter sports offered in the area and by their healthy looks, they are certainly not part of the couch potato crowd.

I remember playing in the snow covered forest, during my youthful days, walking on handmade snowshoes, as the friendly black-capped chickadees followed along from branch to branch above my head singing their familiar song.

It’s days like today, you long for green leaves and wild flowers.

The sail boats will be playing in the ocean breezes before you know it.

 
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Posted by on 2009/03/20 in Reminiscing

 

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Casco Bay – Peaceful

CascoBay-001

It is always a treat to buy Real Italian Sandwiches and take them to the Eastern Promenade Park overlooking Casco Bay to eat them, while enjoying the panoramic view.

It is common to see harbor seals. Whales occasionally swim into the bay. I remember whales swimming in the Portland Harbor.

A beautiful place to just relax.

 
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Posted by on 2009/03/17 in Reminiscing

 

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Camden Harbor – Revisited

Camden-001

photographs are bookmarks of some of our fondest memories – while some people prefer to browse through seed catalogs on a cold winter’s day, i like to revisit photographs of a warmer season.

Camden-002

 
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Posted by on 2009/03/03 in Reminiscing

 

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Wanaka Sailing Yacht – spotted at Camden Harbor

Camden-003

i was poking around at Camden Harbor on 20 sep 08 and spotted an interesting sailing yacht hoisted up out of the water. i have paddled canoes and been in and out of numerous small crafts and sailboats, but i wonder what it is like to travel across the seven seas in this beautiful boat!

“Wanaka” Sailing Yacht – built by Harbour Yachts Ltd, Auckland, New Zealand ???

i emailed ‘harbour yachts in new zealand to verify if this was the same sailing yacht listed here:
wanaka

 
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Posted by on 2009/03/02 in Reminiscing

 

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Attean – exaggerated X

attean-extorted

although i like to edit photographs with Corel and Gimp, i have been tinkering around with iWork ’09 Keynote and have been very impressed. iWork 09 consist of Pages, Numbers, and Keynote. Pages being word documents (plenty of graphics here), Numbers being spreadsheets (plenty of graphics here), and Keynote being presentations (plenty of graphics here).

The graphic above is just a Keynote slide with the image with an exaggerated X to create a more roughed landscape than you would find.

one of the islands has a lodge and cabins, where tourist come from all over to enjoy the secluded wilderness. the moose river winds around these mountains. a three day canoe trip through 45 miles of wilderness is a must for those of us who have experienced ‘paddle-fever’.

the Canadian Border is not far from Attean – i have enjoyed visiting Quebec Providence in my youthful years!

 
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Posted by on 2009/02/20 in Reminiscing

 

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Bird-Sphere

Bird-sphere

I enjoy tinkering around with photo editing tools – you never know what you will come up with – sometime you are surprised by results you were not looking for.

During the 1960′s-1970′s I used to develop and print black and white film. I don’t miss the chemical smells and the time wasted drying film strips and prints.

 
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Posted by on 2009/02/14 in Reminiscing

 

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RampVan

brv
I thought i’d post a photo that was taken in August 2008 to remind me what it was like without snow everywhere. I used to drive two-door coups, but for some reason the automobile manufacturers decided not to make them accessible for those of us confined to rolling around. The chair folded and was stored behind the driver’s seat.

The Braun RampVan actually kneels as the ramp unfolds – floor was lowered 11 inches so I can drive sitting in my chair. I’m thankful for creative designers.

The weather was very mild today and the snowbanks were melting.

I am certainly anxious for warm weather – I’ll trade salt covered highways for wild-flower blossoms any day.

 
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Posted by on 2009/02/08 in Reminiscing

 

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Official Google Blog: “This site may harm your computer” on every search result?!?!

“This site may harm your computer” on every search result?!?!

1/31/2009 09:02:00 AM

If you did a Google search between 6:30 a.m. PST and 7:25 a.m. PST this morning, you likely saw that the message “This site may harm your computer” accompanied each and every search result. This was clearly an error, and we are very sorry for the inconvenience caused to our users.

What happened? Very simply, human error. Google flags search results with the message “This site may harm your computer” if the site is known to install malicious software in the background or otherwise surreptitiously. We do this to protect our users against visiting sites that could harm their computers. We work with a non-profit called StopBadware.org to get our list of URLs. StopBadware carefully researches each consumer complaint to decide fairly whether that URL belongs on the list. Since each case needs to be individually researched, this list is maintained by humans, not algorithms.

We periodically receive updates to that list and received one such update to release on the site this morning. Unfortunately (and here’s the human error), the URL of ‘/’ was mistakenly checked in as a value to the file and ‘/’ expands to all URLs. Fortunately, our on-call site reliability team found the problem quickly and reverted the file. Since we push these updates in a staggered and rolling fashion, the errors began appearing between 6:27 a.m. and 6:40 a.m. and began disappearing between 7:10 and 7:25 a.m., so the duration of the problem for any particular user was approximately 40 minutes.

Thanks to our team for their quick work in finding this. And again, our apologies to any of you who were inconvenienced this morning, and to site owners whose pages were incorrectly labelled. We will carefully investigate this incident and put more robust file checks in place to prevent it from happening again.

Thanks for your understanding.

Posted by Marissa Mayer, VP, Search Products & User Experience

via Official Google Blog: “This site may harm your computer” on every search result?!?!.

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/31 in Warnings

 

Orson Scott Card – Ender’s Game Series

thank you Orson Scott Card for sharing your creativity – excellent series with excellent characters.

years ago, i read and enjoyed the Ender’s Game Series – every time I hear the series or any of the characters mentioned, a flood of characters fill my mind with memories of their adventures.

i have my favorite characters, but i’ll let you decide for yourself, who your favorites may be!

below are the titles and sequence of the series with summaries copied from various places.

# 1 : Ender’s Game (1985) by Orson Scott Card

In order to develop a secure defense against a hostile alien race’s next attack, government agencies breed child geniuses and train them as soldiers. A brilliant young boy, Andrew “Ender” Wiggin lives with his kind but distant parents, his sadistic brother Peter, and the person he loves more than anyone else, his sister Valentine. Peter and Valentine were candidates for the soldier-training program but didn’t make the cut—young Ender is the Wiggin drafted to the orbiting Battle School for rigorous military training. Ender’s skills make him a leader in school and respected in the Battle Room, where children play at mock battles in zero gravity. Yet growing up in an artificial community of young soldiers Ender suffers greatly from isolation, rivalry from his peers, pressure from the adult teachers, and an unsettling fear of the alien invaders. His psychological battles include loneliness, fear that he is becoming like the cruel brother he remembers, and fanning the flames of devotion to his beloved sister. Is Ender the general Earth needs? But Ender is not the only result of the genetic experiments. The war with the Buggers has been raging for a hundred years, and the quest for the perfect general has been underway for almost as long. Ender’s two older siblings are every bit as unusual as he is, but in very different ways. Between the three of them lie the abilities to remake a world. If, that is, the world survives.

# 2 : Speaker for the Dead (1986) by Orson Scott Card

In the aftermath of his terrible war, Ender Wiggin disappeared, and a powerful voice arose: the Speaker for the Dead, who told the true story of the Bugger War. Now, long years later, a second alien race has been discovered by Portuguese colonists on the planet Lusitania. But again the aliens’ ways are strange and frightening … again, humans die. And it is only the Speaker for the Dead, who is also Ender Wiggin the Xenocide, who has the courage to confront the mystery … and the truth. Orson Scott Card infuses this tale with intellect by casting his characters in social, religious and cultural contexts.

# 3 : Xenocide (1991) by Orson Scott Card

In this continuation of Ender Wiggin’s story, the Starways Congress has sent a fleet to immolate the rebellious planet of Lusitania, home to the alien race of pequeninos, and home to Ender Wiggin and his family. Concealed on Lusitania is the only remaining Hive Queen, who holds a secret that may save or destroy humanity throughout the galaxy. Familiar characters from the previous novels continue to grapple with religious conflicts and family squabbles while inventing faster-than-light travel and miraculous virus treatments. Throw into the mix an entire planet of mad geniuses and a self-aware computer who wants to be a martyr, and it’s hard to guess who will topple the first domino.

# 4 : Children of the Mind (1996) by Orson Scott Card

The planet Lusitania is home to three sentient species: the Pequeninos, a large colony of humans, and the Hive Queen, who was brought there by Ender Wiggin. But now, once again, the human race has grown fearful; the Starways Congress has gathered a fleet to destroy Lusitania. Ender’s oldest friend, Jane, an evolved computer intelligence, can save the three sentient species of Lusitania. She has learned how to move ships out-side the universe, and then instantly back to a different world, abolishing the light-speed limit. But it takes all the processing power available to her, and the Starways Congress is shutting down the network of computers in which she lives, world by world. Soon Jane will not be able to move the ships. Ender’s children must save her if they are to save themselves.

# 5 : Ender’s Shadow (1999) by Orson Scott Card

Orson Scott Card brings us back to the very beginning of his brilliant Ender Quartet, with a novel that allows us to reenter that world anew…. “The human race is at War with the “Buggers,” an insect-like alien race. The first battles went badly, and now as Earth prepares to defend itself against the imminent threat of total destruction at the hands of an inscrutable alien enemy, all focus is on the development and training of military geniuses who can fight such a war, and win…. “Andrew “Ender” Wiggin was not the only child in the Battle School; he was just the best of the best. In this new book, Card tells the story of another of those precocious generals, the one they called Bean—the one who became Ender’s right hand, his strategist, and his friend.

# 6 : Shadow of the Hegemon (2000) by Orson Scott Card

This sequel to Ender’s Shadow finds the wars over, with Ender in self-imposed exile off-planet. The remaining students of Battle School, now young teens, are trying to adjust to their civilian status when they are suddenly abducted-all except Bean, who escapes and goes into hiding with Sister Carlotta, the nun who raised him.

# 7 : Shadow Puppets (2002) by Orson Scott Card

In this the 7th book in the Ender saga, the governments of the world all want to have control of the smart children from the days of the formic wars. Peter Wiggen has an idea about how to solve this problem. He wants to bring back the world government.

# 8 : Shadow of the Giant (2005) by Orson Scott Card

Bean was the smallest student at the Battle School, but he became Ender Wiggins’ right hand, Since then he has grown to be a power on Earth. He served the Hegemon as strategist and general in the terrible wars that followed Ender’s defeat of the alien empire attacking Earth. Now he and his wife Petra yearn for a safe place to build a family – something he has never known – but there is nowhere on Earth that does not harbor his enemies – old enemies from the days in Ender’s Jeesh, new enemies from the wars on Earth. To find security, Bean and Petra must once again follow in Ender’s footsteps. They must leave Earth behind, in the control of the Hegemon, and look to the stars.

 
 

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44th president of the United States of America

Barack Obama was officially sworn in as the 44th president of the United States of America on in Tuesday afternoon (January 20)

…In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom…

from President Barack Obama’s Inaugural Address

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/20 in Reminiscing

 

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Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day 2009

When I was 20 years old, I was going to college in Oklahoma. I woke up to the sounds of screaming and total chaos during the night. I got dressed in a panic and went to see what was going on. One of the campus security guards told me that riots had broke out and various areas of the campus had been trashed during the turmoil. He said Dr. King was shot while standing on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee on April 4, 1968.

I had a lot of black friends that had traveled from all over the US to go to college in Oklahoma. I often think of most of these friends because we all have some great times together.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. represented hope to my friends and his death filled their hearts full of fear.

They shared some of their family stories and I believed every word. It was common to hear about an uncle or grandfather being hanged by the neck during the night, or a sister or aunt that had been gang-rapped in the light of a burning cross by a group of drunken bastards hiding their faces behind hoods.

I’m glad I went to college in Oklahoma and had the chance to study with students of all races, colors, and creeds. I met a lot of interesting friends.

Tomorrow’s inauguration, in the United States of America, (January 20th, 2009) will prove that the lives of people like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. didn’t die in vain, but survived, opening the minds of many. I hope all of my old friends from the Oklahoma college have big smiles on their faces.

There is a new hope in the dawning winds of time, I can feel it. I’m ready for change!

Let Freedom RING all over the world.

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/19 in Reminiscing

 

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Atlas Shrugged – continued

as i read the novel, Atlas Shrugged, it is interesting to compare today’s economy, here in the USA, with the environment of worsening economic conditions in the story. although the novel is fiction, there are interesting similarities.

i don’t want to give away any clues of what is going on for those who have not read the book – there are already plenty of ways to glean the book beyond a simple synopsis as it is. this may be one of those books you would find interesting enough to read every word. i’m enjoying it very much.

my paper back copy of the book is 1069 pages, so i’ll be reading it for awhile.

i read fiction for entertainment and non-fiction for knowledge with an open mind and research things that interest me to see if they are facts or opinions – there is a difference. i don’t necessarily agree with all the opinions i read, but truly believe in freedom of the press. If you can not tell the difference between facts and opinions, you may be surprised how easy it is to find legitimate facts and figures to aide you.

huge snow flakes have been falling for hours and will continue throughout the day, stopping for a few hours, then pick up again later on during the night. I am at home, sitting at my desk, sipping a hot mug of black coffee, enduring the snow storm!

the earth is quite peaceful during a snow storm, the majority of people are at home.

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/18 in Books, Reading, Reminiscing

 

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What is your focus

When I look at something, I often wonder what I see. A good exercise to test your awareness is to describe what you think you saw to someone, or write it down.

We have all heard how the average person only uses a low percentage of their brain. The first brain power user we immediately think of is Albert Einstein.

Years ago, more years than I’d like to remember, I took a meditation class to learn how to relax. Imagine a diagram of a cross-section of your brain showing the outer layers as noisy and active with all sorts of unorganized trivial thought processes floating around. Looking deeper into the cross-section you notice the inner layers quieting down to calm and peaceful depths. I wondered how I was supposed to reach the calm and peaceful depths of my brain.

While you are outside in the sunlight, or inside a brightly lit room, sit down, try to relax a little by closing your eyes for a minute or so. You should notice quite a bit of energy reduction from all the activity your eyes generate. You can also experiment with ear plugs. It is easy to notice a slight peaceful difference.

Your eyes and ears may be part of the noisy noise activity in your brain, but your short-term memory banks are overflowing with more insignificant thoughts than you can imagine. Just a few of these thoughts could ruin your reputation if know what I mean, but the average person has pure and honest thoughts. Wishful thinking!

Remember when you were a child and adults told you certain things you shouldn’t do? Teachers of education, as well as various religious elders, told us what we shouldn’t do. So we follower their advice, while they were around, but did as we pleased when we thought no one we knew was watching.

There is a possibility that whatever someone taught us to do or not to do makes a difference on what the content of the noisy noise activity that swirls around on the surface of our imaginary cross-section of our brain.

There are endless techniques of meditating or relaxing. We may say relax from what? Imagine how much noise there is around you, especially if you live in a city, or how many business deals you make in a day. There are endless reasons that can cause stress, or problems of various degrees that disturb us. Noise, bright lights, weather, working or visiting in an unfriendly environment to name a few.

This noisy noise activity can get so intense that it may effect your health, or give you an attitude that could cause you to lose your job or your friends. Relatives generally stick with you through the thick or the thin.

My point of this long winded post is our focus and how aware we are of our surroundings. Our focus can benefit our learning skills, our writing skills, and our future reflections of our past.

Several years ago, I read about a young teacher from the north mid-western part of the USA that built a tiny boat he had imagined in a dream. It was kind of shaped like a pumpkin seed. He completed the construction of his boat and launched it on the coast of the Atlantic and sailed to the UK. This has been accomplished  by several people, but what stood out in this particular journey, was the fact that this young teacher was aware of a very peaceful silence where he had thoughts he never imagined thinking.

I heard this same story from an interview of someone who drives a desert safari land cruiser into the Golden sand Dunes of Arabia in the United Arab Emirates. He too was aware of a silence when he had thoughts he never imaged thinking.

Perhaps something happens to us when we push through to the other side of the noisy noise activity or somehow eliminate it temporarily during our relaxation, our quiet time, mediation, prayer, or far from the noise in our everyday environment? What do those ancient monks know about silence that we are unaware of?

Some people suggest the calm and peaceful depths of our brains is where the thoughts we never dreamed thinking may be!

Maybe all those adults and teachers were not trying to form our thoughts into little DO BEES, but teaching us to FOCUS?

What is your focus?

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/11 in Reminiscing, writing

 

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Scrivener Literature & Latte

After researching writing programs available for Mac OS X, I decided to download and register Scrivener. I was impressed with all of the writing programs; they fit the requirements for various novice and professional writers. Maybe someday I’ll own a copy of each one. I am amazed how far the technology has evolved since the personal computer was created. It didn’t take long to decide what I was going to do.

Here is what impressed me the most (from the Literature and Latte website):

Scrivener is a word processor and project management tool created specifically for writers of long texts such as novels and research papers. It won’t try to tell you how to write – it just makes all the tools you have scattered around your desk available in one application.

Scrivener provides access to the full power of the OS X text system: add tables, bullet points and images and format your text however you want. Define ranges of text as footnotes and they become footnotes when you export or print. And because the way you view your text onscreen may not always be how you want to see it in print, Scrivener makes it easy to format the printed or exported text completely differently from what is onscreen – leaving you free to focus on the actual writing.

The cork notice-board is one of the writer’s most familiar tools. Before Scrivener, though, the index cards were not connected to anything (other than ideas, of course); any changes to the order on the corkboard would have to be replicated manually in the draft. In Scrivener, every document is attached to a virtual index card onto which you can jot a synopsis. Use the corkboard to shuffle these index cards around – which is instantly reflected in the structure of your draft.

No more switching between multiple applications to refer to research files: keep all of your research – image files, PDF documents, movies, sound files and web pages – right inside Scrivener. And unlike in other programs that only let you see one document in a window at a time, in Scrivener you can view a research document in one pane and compose your text in another right alongside it. Transcribe an interview, make notes about a picture, or just refer back to another chapter, all from within the same program.

Because sometimes you want to blank out the rest of the world while you write – or at least the rest of the screen. Scrivener boasts the most advanced full screen editing mode out there. Fade the background in and out, choose the width of the “paper” and get writing. Prefer an old-school green-text-on-black look? No problem. Flexible preferences mean you can set up the full screen mode however you want. Change documents, refer to your notes, apply keywords – or just write – in one of the most beautiful distraction-free modes available.

Scrivener is a Mac OS X only application.

I am totally excited about starting my first Scrivener writing project to get hands on experience – Thanks Keith Blount for creating a great Mac writing environment!


 
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Posted by on 2009/01/10 in Writing Tools

 

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Atlas Shrugged – Ayn Rand

Book Description:

The astounding story of a man who said that he would stop the motor of the world–and did. Tremendous in scope, breathtaking in its suspense, Atlas Shrugged stretches the boundaries further than any book you have ever read. It is a mystery, not about the murder of a man’s body, but about the murder–and rebirth–of man’s spirit.

With this acclaimed work and its immortal query, “Who is John Galt?”, Ayn Rand found the perfect artistic form to express her vision of existence. This is the book that has made her not only one of the most popular novelists of the century, but one of its most influential and controversial thinkers.

This is the Centennial Edition…

*****

I’ve put War and Peace, Anna Karenina, The House of the Dead and Poor Folk, Demons, The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, as well as several books of short stories by: Anton Chekhov on hold until I finish up several books I intended on reading earlier.

I shouldn’t have looked in the closet where I’ve stashd my book collection – It is like rediscovering hidden treasures.

What’s in your closet?

Well I’m off to find out what’s going on with these guys:

Dagny Taggart
John Galt
Francisco d’Anconia
Hank Rearden
Eddie Willers
Ragnar Danneskjöld
James Taggert
Midas Mulligan

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/02 in Books, Reading

 

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The Road – Cormac McCarthy

The Road By Cormac McCarthy

Cover Description:

A searing, post apocalyptic novel destined to become Cormac McCarthy’s masterpiece. A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind. It is cold enough to crack stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the coast, although they don’t know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food and each other.

The Road is the profoundly moving story of a journey. It boldly imagines a future in which no hope remains, but in which the father and his son, each the other’s world entire, are sustained by love. Awesome in the totality of its vision, it is an unflinching meditation on the worst and the best that we are capable of: ultimate destructiveness, desperate tenacity, and the tenderness that keeps two people alive in the face of total devastation.

***

I certainly believe in the possibilities of world peace. Don’t you?

 
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Posted by on 2009/01/01 in Books, Reading

 

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Happy New Year 2009

I hope the whole world enjoys a:

Happy New Year

2009


T  h  a  n  k     Y  o  u     F o  r     V  i  s  i  t  i  n  g
 
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Posted by on 2008/12/31 in Reminiscing

 

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Dawning 2009 Haiku

haiku

great expectations
i can feel the winds of hope
a dawning new world

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/30 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Winter of the North Haiku

haiku

winter of the north

on long days and nights of cold

your smile warms my soul

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/28 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Winter Rain Outdoors Tanka

Tanka

winter rain outdoors
thinking of franconia notch
with thoughts of long ago
native american foot paths
on bright sunny autumn days

tanka-FCN

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/27 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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Marsilio Ficino and a couch potato goose

My wife wanted to take some photographs around the park at Fort Williams this afternoon, so we spent about an hour there.

It rained during the night and this morning I was amazed to see how much of the snow vanished – there was barely any snow to speak of along the shore of the north atlantic ocean, although there were snow covered hills skattered around the park, which were populated with youngsters of all ages enjoying their sleds.

As strange as it seems, it is not unusual to have a spell of warm weather a couple of days or so before the new year.

I took advantage of the peace and quiet where I was parked and read part of a book titled, The Planets Within – The Astrological Psychology of Marsilio Ficino by Thomas Moore.

An interesting book. It centers on one of the most psychological moments of the pre-scientific age – Renaissance Italy, where a group of varied and talented individuals clustered in the fifteenth century.

I enjoy reading books about esoteric mystical knowledge – which reminds me:

Long ago, when I was a young boy, I used to watched the graceful Canadian geese fly overhead on there way north or south, depending on what season of the year it was. Well one season, when thousands of geese were heading north, they stopped at an old hay field nearby where there was a small farm pond where they could drink their fill of clear cool water. The next morning they all continued on their way north, well, with the exception of one. For some strange reason, one of the largest and strongest of the northbound travelers stayed behind.

By the time the season arrived, the season when the southbound travelers would stop at the old hay field and drink there fill of the clear cool water in the small farm pond, the traveler that stopped earlier that year, had become quite domesticated and blended in well with the other farm animals and birds. He was quite comfortable and it wasn’t any effort at all to survive. He didn’t have any intention of rejoining the southbound travelers. It was probably a good decision, because he was very run down and gained quite a bit of weight – certainly not in shape to fly all the way to South America.

I felt sorry for that goose. Giving up his wild kingdom and freedom, just to live beside the small farm pond, where there was little effort to eat, drink, and be merry.

I’m reading that our souls might be like the goose. I don’t really know much about our souls.

Marsilio Ficino, the presiding genius of the Florentine Academy, taught that all things exist in soul and must be lived in its light.

Maybe that is why I felt bad for the goose. Perhaps living beside a pond full of water and a barn full of food is like being a couch potato goose, sort of speaking!

Well, don’t let me confuse you. If you are curious about what Marsilio Ficino and Plato were excited about, you may want to check out Thomas Moore. You don’t have to tell him about the couch potato goose. That was something the book reminded me of. He may have never thought about a goose!

Which reminds me, have you ever had the blues and didn’t have a clue why?  Me too… Strange isn’t it.

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/25 in Reading, Reminiscing

 

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holiday vacation and books

this week, i’m home, away from the office. i am glad i do not have to commute to and from portland. i’ve been browsing through my old book collection, re-reading chapters here and there, some old books i hope to find time to read again.

each year i usually read a biography of one of the romantic poets, but this year i didn’t find time, because i have been reading fyodor dostoevsky and leo tolstoy. one of these days i will be able to say i’ve read: War and Peace, Anna Karenina, The House of the Dead and Poor Folk, Demons, The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, as well as several books of short stories by: Anton Chekhov. it looks like this book list will take me into several months of 2009.

i usually have a poetry book in my hand each day. the romantic poets seem to win the majority of time spend reading either poems, about poets and poetry, or books on how to write poetry. in the world of poetry, i’ve found few poets or poems i do not like.

there is always something interesting to learn about poetry, who knows, there may be an invisible thread linking some of our deepest thoughts back to the first communicators – we may even discover we are one huge family afterall…

have you ever heard of:

alexandrine
anapest
aubade
ballad
ballade
blank verse
choriamb
choriambic
dactyl
dactylic
decasyllable
dimeter
dirge
disyllable
dithyramb
dramatic monologue
eclogue
elegy
encomium
epic
epigram
epithalamium
epode
epyllion
free verse
georgic
ghazal
haiku
heptameter
heroic
hexameter
iamb
iambic
idyll
lay
limerick
lyric
madrigal
monody
ode
pastoral
pentameter
Petrarchan sonnet
prothalamion
rondeau
roundel
roundelay
saga
sapphics
satire
sestina
sonnet
spondee
tanka
tetrameter
threnody
trimeter
triolet
trochaics
trochee
virelay

one of my first tasks in poetry studies for 2009, is to read and study a book i purchased this year called, The Prelude 1799, 1805, 1850 Authoritative Texts Context and Reception Recent Critical Essays by william wordsworth, edited by jonathan wordsworth, mh abrams, and stephen gill. sounds like a mouth full – it was wordsworth’s life-long major work – each of these poems has its distinctive qualities and values – reading them together allows you to witness a great poet composing and recomposing.

sipping a hot cup of coffee on an extremely cold snowy night – ludwig van beethoven playing in the background – just amazing…

time flies – here it is already Christmas Eve 2008 – Happy Holidays to All!

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/24 in Poetry, Reminiscing

 

Rainy Day Haiku

haiku

Sunlight and water

Mystical symbol of hope

Beautiful rainbow

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/16 in Haiku, Poetry

 

Bittersweet Memory

Bittersweet Memory

A young man in a woolen coat of red,
Snowshoes, walking stick, and pulling a sled
Across the deep snow to mountain range
Here in the city I seem mighty strange.

I’m living in the city to make my mark
And the fullness of nature seems so dark
And how far away I begin to feel
Bittersweet memory my soul must heal.

I can see forest of mountains and streams
Looking back into the freshness of dreams
A life with nature, animals, and birds
All given up for money, deeds, and words.

Inspiration seen in a frozen land
Is having a small bird eat from your hand
Inspiration that last without a cost
Bittersweet memory never be lost.

Note (2008)

Refection: during daily commuting to and from the office one particular winter season of 1998, after living in the city for 28 years. Now, 38 years later, I still work in the city and someday in the near future look forward to living somewhere in the southwestern USA.

The pure white snow from an early winter storm had been plowed into high banks along both sides of the highway. Piles of pure white snow splashed with road salt, brown gravel, and sprinkled with trash, trash tossed out windows by commuter, those commuters who could care less about the beautiful earth they live in. Pure white snow banks now ugly brown and nasty – sprinkled with trash. Sigh!

The pangs and thoughts of nostalgia, when a young able bodied boy living in the northwestern mountains of Maine, took me to the pure white snow filled wilderness I knew so well.

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/13 in Poetry, Reminiscing

 

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Winter Greetings

haiku

Snowflakes floating down

Twisted leafless branches wear

New white winter cloak

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/07 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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The United States 2009

I think our NEW President is going to guide us and help inspire us to put this country back in order, and push ahead into the country our fore-fathers would smile about, a freedom they believed in – a freedom where we ALL pull together. imagine what 300 million people can do when they pull together: strong education, new discoveries of alternative energies, medicines, transportation, exploration in space and on our earth, environmental protection and cleanup, stronger values, inspiration to transform our bodies into healthy bodies with strong minds to conquer our problems and help those with problems – gold and money will be earned, plenty of it, but it won’t be the only reason to live, because we will remember the pursuit of freedom and endurance that provided this country. And most important, we don’t need someone telling us we need to be doing something – we will do it because we can

This country is great , because of who we are. people from all over the world came to our shores in the pursuit of freedom. these people are mentioned below:

Did you ever visit the Statue of Liberty?

The interior of the pedestal contains a bronze plaque
inscribed with the poem “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

-Emma Lazarus, 1883

These people were persecuted for their race or political or religious beliefs. Many of these people with their various skills, talents, and discoveries made this country what it is today (well maybe yesterday), or long before the greedy bastard leaders responsible for our current economic situation (they know who they are) decided to take more, more, and more… instead of give. Yes, they just sucked the life out of the economy – and want more. Until things get organized, they will get more, only because everything became dependent on these plundering corporate leaders.

I believe the foundation of this country was built on the spirit of freedom, and its soul passes from generation to generation – the young citizens of this country should to be taught the history of that foundation, so they can carry the torch into future generations, while knowing mistakes are and were made along the way, so we as a nation can look into the future with the strength inspired by our past.

Everyone knows this – i just felt like expressing my excitement of this new hope i got out of reading some great books about this country!

Remember John F. Kennedy’s Inaugural address when he said:

“And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”

***

I knew several people that quit their jobs and found jobs where they could be of more value in helping others and strengthened their values along the way. they became so happy with their lives after that… can you imagine the power words have, words you believe can lift your spirits or break your spirits, no matter what.

Powerful words we may have heard recently:

You Are Fired
We Have To Let You Go
You Don’t Have Enough Medical Insurance
Your Home Has Been Reprocessed
Your 401K – Gone…

I think these powerful words suck and we all should do something about it!

Take my hand and together we all can remember these words:
“ask what you can do for your country.”

LET FREEDOM RING!

 
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Posted by on 2008/12/06 in Reminiscing

 

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Crime and Punishment – Dostoevsky 1865

Growing up in the USA, terms and definitions may not be what you think when reading the notable works of Fyodor Dostoevsky written in the mid to late 1800s. His novels reveal his psychological insight, savage humor, and concern with the religious, political, and moral problems posed by human suffering. Luckily, modern day classics have forwards, introductions, and other various information available to give you translator notes, timelines, details of historical events, psychology, and philosophy during the period of time a novel was written.

“Crime and Punishment” may not be what you expected when you first became interested in reading the story – I recommend this novel to those interested in an in-depth discovery of …

Enjoy!

 
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Posted by on 2008/11/25 in Reminiscing

 

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Hidden History – Exploring Our Secret Past

R.I.P. John Fitzgerald Kennedy (1917–63) 35th president of the U.S. 1961–63 On November 22, 1963, he was assassinated while riding in a motorcade through Dallas, Texas

I remember exactly what I was doing when JFK was assassinated – we all spent our time with our noses glued to the TV screen watching news bulletins and the funeral procession – The horse, Black Jack, was walked riderless behind the casket that carried the President’s body. Reversed boots placed in the stirrups show that the rider has passed away. The ceremony is intended to honor all of those loved ones who are no longer with us brought tears to your eyes.

Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg – may the force be with you, Edwin and your children … (Happy Birthday – 27 November)

***********************************************************

Hidden History – Exploring Our Secret Past By: Historian Daniel J. Boorstin

Overlooked by most historians, this book contains 24 essays divided up into five sections:

A By-Product Nation

The Rhetoric of Democracy

Unsung Experiments

The Momentum of Technology

Being 60 years old, I was amazed by the interesting information I discovered about the creation and history of the United States of America that I never realized.

These 24 essays spark a quest to dig deeper into the historical documents of the founding fathers and their families that were dedicated and responsible for founding a government of laws and not men.

I won’t spoil this book by giving away the hidden history, but recommend it to anyone interested to know more about the engine that drives this unique nation of free people.

 
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Posted by on 2008/11/22 in Reminiscing

 

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Mt. Washington Hotel in Bretton Woods, NH

Mount Washington Hotel

This grand hotel was completed in 1902 and was visited by the TV series Ghost Hunters earlier this year. GHOSTS?

A 50 million dollar restoration is going on this year.

They have plenty to offer their guest. I’ve read where 500 employees work here during the summer and twice that works during the peak skiing season of the winter.

My wife and I enjoyed lunch on a stormy afternoon in late October – ghost were the last thoughts on my mind – I imagined hiding away in the White Mountains, while writing an imaginary novel, sitting in an atmosphere of flickering flames reflecting the crackling blaze on the hearth, during the coldest winter of history!

Just imagine the frosty fresh air in northern New Hampshire’s White Mountain Presidential Range covered in pure white snow?

It was fun to visit a place where tourist of long ago traveled by train and stayed long enough to hear nature’s voice.

 
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Posted by on 2008/11/10 in Reminiscing

 

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Old Port Exchange and Casco Bay

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

Today was an excellent autumn day, perfect weather for enjoying the surrounding area.

My wife and I blended with the tourist and poked around on Exchange Street in the Old Port District of Portland. If you have never visited Portland, you will want to make sure you visit this area when you do.

I enjoyed sitting in the small park, sipping a hot cup of French Roast, while my wife browsed around in some of the stores.

We have seen many changes around the Old Port Exchange since 1970, when real estate developers grabbed 19th century historic brick buildings and demolished or refurbished them. Luckily the Old Port Association was formed to stop this demolition.

Later in the afternoon, we crossed Casco Bay and headed over to Bug Light Park, then took the trail along the harbor to Fort Preble where Spring Point Ledge Light (built 1897) sits at the end of a 900-foot granite breakwater. Fort Preble was built in 1808 and decommissioned in 1950. Across the water from Fort Preble, Fort Scammel was built on House Island in 1808. Both forts were built to protect Portland Harbor in Casco Bay. House Island has a very interesting history – visit this here for everything you ever wanted to know about House Island and was afraid to ask.

The photo was taken through a cannon port at Fort Preble and enhanced with Corel Photo-Paint.

 
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Posted by on 2008/10/11 in Reminiscing

 

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Reflection: Humanitarianism, Compassion, and Social Responsibility

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Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

I took a few days off from the office earlier this week – We revisited the White Mountains. My wife is a very creative person and one of her hobbies is quilting. She enjoys seeing what is going on at the Keepsake Quilting Shop in Meredith, New Hampshire. I enjoy poking around in the quilting books and watching the Tour Bus crowds from all over the United States that shop there.

At West Ossippee, New Hampshire we stopped for a sandwich next door to the tramway that offered scenic gondola rides to the summit of Nickerson Mountain, so called, “Mt. Whitter Ski Area,” in the Ossippee Range. The ski area has been closed since 1985 due to the poor winters of the 80′s.

I learned Ski Teaching when I was in high School and the news of closing ski areas is sad news.

I wanted to take a photo of Mount Whittier, but backtracking in the traffic didn’t seem like a good idea at the time.

Mount Whittier, the name immediately carries my thoughts back to the mid 1980s, when I visited John Greenleaf Whittier’s homestead near Haverhill, Massachusetts. The caretakers had a fire in the hearth. If you ever read his poem, “Snowbound”, the warm hearth was a land-mark. The Red Riding-Hood was hanging on a hook near the small writing desk where John wrote poetry. I totally enjoyed visiting that day and will remember it forever.

The Whittier family farm was small and there wasn’t money for former education. John was an avid reader and studied his fathers small collection of books on Quakerism. In my opinion, I can’t say where a former educations would take John Greenleaf Whittier, but just imagine where it may have taken him.

Why do most people get a former education?

John Greenleaf Whitter’s writings became a strong reflection of what he gleaned from his father’s small collection of books. Imagine what your life would be if your focus was influenced by humanitarianism, compassion, and social responsibility – imagine a country, or all the countries of the world influenced by humanitarianism, compassion, and social responsibility.

Well, from Meredith, we traveled to Waterville Valley to see the mountains on the south side of the Kancamagus Scenic Byway. There are many new buildings in the valley.

We drove north to Lincoln, then traveled over the Kancamagus Scenic Byway and back home.

The image below is looking north from Waterville Valley.

autumn08NH-Waterville Valley

Thinking about John Greenleaf Whitter challanged my thoughts about the presidential election.

We got are absentee ballots today to avoid parking problems during election day. It is my hope that the candidate I vote for and whoever wins will state honestly:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

And remember if anything happens, I hope the next person in line will also be honest:

In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death, Resignation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the said Office, the same shall devolve on the Vice President, and the Congress may by Law provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation or Inability, both of the President and Vice President, declaring what Officer shall then act as President, and such Officer shall act accordingly, until the Disability be removed, or a President shall be elected.

 
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Posted by on 2008/10/07 in Reminiscing

 

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Camden by the Sea

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

Edna St. Vincent Millay grew up in Camden, Maine. ‘Renascence‘ reflects the mountains and sea that inspired the poem.

It was a comfortable day to sit on the wharf over looking the Camden harbor yacht and fishing boat activies. The tourists were from everywhere, enjoying yacht tours and browsing the small shops scattered throughout the town.

The evening after returning home, it was fun to read up on the history of this area.

 
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Posted by on 2008/09/21 in Reminiscing

 

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White Mountain Celebration



Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

September 12th, I took a day off from the office – my wife and I celebrated our 39 wedding anniversary. we both enjoy the mountains, so we took a trip over the Kancamagus Scenic Byway named after Kancamagus (“Kank-ah-maw-gus” The Fearless One), who ruled as the third and final Sagamon of the Panacook Confederacy of Native American tribes in what is now southern New Hampshire. We had a bite to eat at a McDonald’s along the Pemigewasset River in Lincoln, then headed for the Robert Frost homestead in Franconia, New Hampshire on Rt. 116, along the western slope of Cannon Mountain. We traveled homeward bound via Bethlehem, Franconia Notch and Crawford Notch State Park and the Mount Washington Valley to North Conway and had dinner.

We traveled under a very dense steel-gray overcast sky with a few showers throughout the day. Small flocks of wild turkeys were selecting gravel along the secondary roads.

It is nice to travel through the White Mountains National Forest in the sunshine, but we both know the scenery well and enjoy being in the mountains in any weather.

We noticed people of all ages running some sort of relay race from Cannon Mountain through Franconia Notch and Crawford Notch. There were white vans everywhere and hundreds of spectators scattered along the along highway and the major tourist parking lots.

We traveled a round trip of 225 miles and were gone lest than 7 hours and had a good time. The Toyota Sienna RampVan gas mileage is very economical.

I looked up the activities taking place in the White Mountains and discovered:

Reach the Beach Relay – a 200 miles in 24 hours Franconia Notch to Hampton Beach

You can find out the details and view photos here:
Reach the Beach Relay

 
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Posted by on 2008/09/13 in Reminiscing

 

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Sidewalk Art Festival

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

The weather was beautiful and a great day to be outside getting some exercise.

The 43rd Annual WCSH 6 Sidewalk Art Festival is August 23, 2008. Approximately 300 artists and 40000 visitors attend this festival.



 
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Posted by on 2008/08/24 in Reminiscing

 

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Portland Museum of Art

09aug08-001

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

Today after a busy week at the office and rain every day, the sun was finally shining. It was a nice day to visit Portland as a tourist instead of a daily commuter and enjoy the Portland Museum of Art. We have been planning to see ‘Georgia O’Keeffe and the Camera – The Art of Identity’ that runs from June 12-September 7.

I really needed to visit this exhibition today to wake up and imagine a ‘Ghost Ranch’ my wife and I can someday retire to in the near future. I’m sure she will find plenty of scenery to enhance her photography skills and splash her favorite colors on canvas. I imagine the history of New Mexico with all of its spiritual culture, along with the beautiful high desert colors and spectacular sunsets, to paint with words. I’m also looking forward to seeing the high altitude night sky full of stars I hear is so beautiful in the high desert of the Southwest.

Georgia O’Keeffe took long walks and described the stunning vistas of the Ghost Ranch landscape that excited her in long letters to her friends. I certainly want to research these letters and imagine looking through her eyes at the surrounding high desert.

I was totally inspired by this exhibition – I imagined packing my bags and moving to Abiquiú in Rio Arriba County along the Chama River and living the rest of my life in an Adobe house surrounded by the beautiful high desert scenery in the Chama Valley.

 
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Posted by on 2008/08/09 in Reminiscing

 

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Eastern Promenade 29 June

EastPromenade29jun08

EastPromenade29jun08

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

The sun broke through the cloudy sky – we had thunder showers earlier this morning and this evening – but it was nice to be overlooking Casco Bay watching the sailboats disappear into the fog. There was a cool ocean breeze and the tourist were bundled in their jackets.

 
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Posted by on 2008/06/29 in Reminiscing

 

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Portland Headlight

phi-21jun08-v1

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

For the past 38 years i have been taking photos of this structure and it always seems to amaze me how i see something new.

this old light, under the order of george washington, has been guiding ships as sea into the portland harbor, since 1791

 
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Posted by on 2008/06/21 in Reminiscing

 

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Cape Elizabeth

PHCE-21jun08-2

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

It started to shower as we were driving through Portland – along the city streets caution lights were flashing, indicating the draw bridge was up. After waiting at the light at the bridge, an empty orange and white oil tanker passed under the bridge.

by the time we arrived at Fort Williams and got out of the RampVan, the orange and white oil tanker was already headed out to high seas.

 
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Posted by on 2008/06/21 in Reminiscing

 

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Ft-Popham Kennebec River

MouthKennebec14jun08

It was a nice day to visit the mouth of the Kennebec River where it flows into the Atlantic Ocean.

Imagine the surprise being in a Confederacy ironclad warship and sailing broadside to Fort Popham:

“Fort Popham’s armament consisted of 36 cannons arranged in two tiers of vaulted casements. Each cannon weighed roughly 25 tons and fired solid shot, each weighing almost 480 pounds. The back side of Fort Popham was built with a low moated curtain containing a central gate and 20 musket ports.”

I was surprised to find a parking spot where I could easily wheel out of my RampVan and feel like a tourist.

Playing around with a photo editor when I got home was as fun as taking the photographs.

Ft-Popham

 
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Posted by on 2008/06/14 in Reminiscing

 

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Casco Bay – South Portland

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Normally we sit at the park on the Eastern Promenade in Portland, Maine and watch Casco Bay, while eating a sandwich. Once in a while we head over to South Portland to get a different view and watch the personal boats and the commercial boats, while they are busy playing in the wind.

This photograph was filtered using Corel PhotoPaint.

 
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Posted by on 2008/06/08 in Reminiscing

 

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I Feel The Wind

I Feel The Wind

These eyes observe the twinkling stars shining in inky blackness above, on a long winter’s night, while standing on the frozen surface of the lake. The arctic wind brushes across my upward tilted face. Do others know this peaceful experience?

Standing in the wilderness clearing, the wind carries the scent of pine and cedar. I hear the cheerful birds singing on this warm spring day.

While sitting on the rocky cliffs above the sea, giant waves crash below me – telltale signs from a distant summer storm. I hear the thundering roar of the wind. My skin is cooled by the fragrant salty mist. Seagulls glide higher and higher.

Leaves are floating by on the diagonal autumn wind, while the colorful mountainside trees slowly become their naked color of gray. I wish i would have worn a sweater.

 
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Posted by on 2008/03/12 in Poetry

 

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Graphic Filters

11-2007-Mainex

It is always fun to tinker around with various filters in Corel or Gimp.

 
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Posted by on 2008/03/11 in Reminiscing

 

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Potholes – Highways and Snow Fields

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This afternoon driving into Portland, I’m starting to get used to the huge deep potholes in most of the Maine highways. Potholes along the RailRoad Crossings are the winners so far – they are horrible.

Looking at the snow in the farm fields and in everyone’s yards I noticed the snow seems to be melting leaving behind strange arrangements of potholes? I have never noticed this before.

 
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Posted by on 2008/03/02 in Reminiscing

 

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Do you ever feed wild birds from your bare hands

1972-jackman, Maine

In 1972, I used to travel up to the mountains on the northwestern border between Maine and Quebec, Canada. I went to high school in Jackman, Maine. My parents had a log cabin on the shore of Big Wood Lake.

When it snowed, the wild birds waited for the feeders to be filled. The wild birds were never scared to eat out of your bare hands.

Try it some time….

 
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Posted by on 2008/03/01 in Reminiscing

 

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First march snowstorm

01Mar08-1

I think spring time will be late this year and we will have plenty of snow through April.

Using a large snowblower and a pick-up truck is a great way to move the snow without leaving large piles of snow. This especially works well, when backing out of the driveway, allowing you to see when the traffic is coming.

I remember when it was almost impossible to back out of the driveway, when the snow plow left huge banks everywhere.

 
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Posted by on 2008/03/01 in Reminiscing

 

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Two Brian Hall Novels

I Should Be Extremely Happy in Your Company

While taking a break from reading Russian literature, I decided to purchase two of Brian Hall’s novels.

I Should Be Extremely Happy in Your Company – A Novel of Lewis and Clark

I have read where Brian Hall’s version of the the Lewis and Clark expedition is a little controversial to readers used to the hundreds of books already written. I thought it would be interesting to read this first, then read some of the more popular older versions later, as well as one of the popular books about Sacajawea, the Shoshone Indian guide and interpreter – I would have been interested in knowing her.

I have read bits and pieces of the Lewis and Clark expedition, traced out their routes, and browsed some of the popular web sites for information. It seems the Official name is called Lewis and Clark National Trail these days.

I have been told, that the branches of my family tree point to Meriwether Lewis on my grandmother’s side of the family. Her family moved to South Dakota during the late 1800s when the government opened frontier territory to settlers. They broke wild horses and sent them back to New York City and sold them as carriage horses. When my grandmother was old enough, she broke her share of the horses – in later years seeing her out in our garden, she was a bow-legged as an old trail guide.

I plan to read this Lewis and Clark novel after I read:

The Saskiad – A Novel

I started reading this book first. I have enjoyed what I have read so far.

I hate to spoil a book for someone that hasn’t read it yet – so just mentioning the name of the book may inspire you to look it up on the web!

Brian Hall’s style is great – I’m glad I saw his name on one of Kathleen A. Dahl’s blog:

Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Corps of Discovery in Fiction and Poetry

 
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Posted by on 2008/02/23 in Uncategorized

 

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Dan Brown novels

within the past couple of years, i have read four of dan brown’s novels. i started off with, The Da Vinci Code, then read, Angels & Demons. Recently, I read, Deception Point, and Digital Fortress. althought all four novels were excellent, i enjoyed Angels & Demons, Digital Fortress, and Deception Point the most.

The Da Vinci Code was certainly full of interesting information, i seemed to have enjoyed the characters in his other novels more. the popularity of this book seems to be above all the rest.

i have read comments where people where critical of technical errors. i prefer to focus on the fictional contents of a novel. novels are entertainment to me and i am critical enough in the working world trying to achieve a goal of high quality with a defect level of zero in technology. being human, you know how complicated this goal can be.

i highly recommend Dan Brown novels. discover which of his books you enjoy the most!

 
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Posted by on 2007/10/28 in Uncategorized

 

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Casco Bay October

thru-the-windshield-cascoBay14oct07

This afternoon activities on Casco Bay seemed very busy during this second weekend in October. I remember some very cold October weekends.

 
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Posted by on 2007/10/14 in Reminiscing

 

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John Updike’s book Terrorist

I read John Updike’s book, Terrorist’ last month during a rainy weekend. The story held my interests from the beginning to end. The writing style is quite different the writing style John used in his earlier books.

I don’t want to spoil the story – it is nice to read a book to get you own opinion.

Send me a comment if you read it and liked or disliked it.

 
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Posted by on 2007/08/11 in Uncategorized

 

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Tranquility

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The tranquility of the evening seduces awareness to the stillness of the water surface. As gentle breezes die down, rolling waves lose their momentum and flatten out. A solitary loon echos from the distant shore.

As I sit on the familiar large boulder half submerged in the water, observing the bending light of the setting sun, I listen to the mystic sounds of natures creatures welcoming the stars to illuminate the darkness of a clear night sky.

Pine fragrance fills the air around me – an otter swims quietly nearby. Swallows fly above my head chasing each other.

Natures beauty is relaxing where ever you are.

 
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Posted by on 2007/04/11 in Reminiscing

 

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The Friendship

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Spent the day reading The Friendship Wordsworth & Coleridge by: Adam Sisman.

I have read several biographies of Wordsworth and Coleridge, but Sisman focuses on the positive side of their friendship as opposed to the negative. Other biographies choose sides.

I have learned many things about historical facts playing in the background during the lives of these two Romantic Poets. The French Revolution has played an important part in a new hope. Wordsworth and Coleridge planned a poem that would succeed where the French Revolution failed – a poem that would literally change the world.

If you are interested in the hopes and dreams, as well as failure; take a strole through the West Country and the Lakes District of England and meet many of the players that influenced a modern lifestyle you may be familiar with today. You may even fall in love with nature and be inspired by its beauty and discover a simpler and happier lifestyle.

Who knows, maybe you will write the poem that will literally change the world, or at least yourself.

Enjoy the book and prehaps a simpler and happier lifestyle.

 
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Posted by on 2007/03/26 in Uncategorized

 

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Hemingway

On december 31st I started reading For Whom The Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. I have been slowing reading, as well as looking up all historical information on the Spanish Civil War.

So what seems to be a long time reading a great novel, includes an interesting history lesson.

The novel is excellent so far, as well as the characters.

 
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Posted by on 2007/01/28 in Uncategorized

 

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New Year’s Eve

2006 has been an interesting year. I haven’t done half the things I hoped to do during the year. I’ll have to priortize items I would like to accomplish during 2007.

Happy New Year 2007! 

 
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Posted by on 2006/12/31 in Reminiscing

 

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Reading

Recently, I enjoyed reading The Sirens Of Titan by: Kurt Vonnegut. I won’t write a book report or summerize my opinion, other than to say, “if you enjoy Sci Fi, you may be surprised what was written in this novel in 1959!”

Life Expectancy by: Dean Koontz is a very suspenseful story, full of twists and turns, and the ending was a complete surprise.

Velocity by: Dean Koontz is a very fast moving thriller. There are a few twists and turns and your imagination will race along with the clock in this fast page turning story.

I’ve just started to read For Whom The Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. I remember reading Hemingway in school and am looking forward to getting to know him all over again with this title, as well as several other selections he wrote.

Early in 2007, I plan to read Bleak House by: Charles Dickens, then pull the bookmark from where ever I am in War And Peace by: Leo Tolstoy, and begin reading it from the beginning. I started it in October 2003, so you can see how time flies.

Speaking of time flying; each time I visit a bookstore, I could fill a wheelbarrow with books and wish I purchased all of the books that caught my attention. As I get older, I realize there is only so many hours available each day to read. If you don’t manage your free time wisely, there are fewer hours than you think, especially if you like to browse the internet, watch TV, learn new computer software, spend time with hobbies.

How wisely do you manage your free time?

 
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Posted by on 2006/12/31 in Uncategorized

 

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Surrounding Colors

Thanksgiving Sunset 2006 - Photo By: Prent

Thanks for sharing your photo Prent!

Growing up on a Maryland dairy, I was surrounded by beautiful colors. Looking westward beyond the various broadleaf trees, you could see the smokey blue color of the Blue Ridge mountains. Our farmland was part of the rolling hills of the Piedmont Plateau. My dad rotated his crops annually, so there was a variety of colors between the crisp greens of spring plants and the golden browns and yellows of the autumn harvest. After the harvest, the naked fields on the rolling hills during winter were dressed in a white blanket of drifting snow.

Moving to the northwestern wilderness of Maine to a valley surrounded by tree covered mountains. Our backyard lake reflected the surrounding various colors of the mountains during spring, summer, and autumn each season. During the winter months the lake and the mountains were snow covered contrasting with the clear blue sky from horizon to horizon.

Prent, an old friend, sent me the photo above. He took it during Thanksgiving this year, knowing I would be familiar with hundreds of sunsets just like it, when the elements were photo perfect. I thought for a minute that I was standing on the shore of long ago.

Living on a dairy where plants grow well, as well as living in a forest, surrounded by clear blue lakes and streams, you become familiar with the surrounding colors. You can close your eyes and imagine a season and your mind fills the darkness with the correct colors you remember from your childhood walks along the lake, or a hike in the woods.

My wife and I are planning to relocate to New Mexico when we retire. We often wonder if we would miss the trees and the clear blue lakes and streams. Should we be safe and live by a lake in the mountains, or is there something else?

We can feel a pull toward the high desert, a land where the trees are sparse, and the red earth shows through the beautiful colors of plants that survive there. I could enjoy seeing these colorful earthtones the rest of my life.

We are concerned with water and will only live where there is enough for everyday needs, but the surrounding colors, high desert plants and animals, the bending light playing on the landscape, the mixture of the native american and the spanish american cultures, the bright blue skies, and the beauty of the red earth is a very forceful influence in decision where we want to go.

What do you think will draw you to the surroundings of your retirement?

 
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Posted by on 2006/12/19 in Reminiscing

 

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two

Originally uploaded by atteancanoe.

well i figured we should sign up with flickr and get up to speed with them. so we will be working on this for a few days.

 
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Posted by on 2006/12/03 in Reminiscing

 

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Horizon – reflections

ft-williams

It is always an adventure to imagine what is beyond the horizon. In this case, it is the southern coast of maine.

When I was a youngster, I would lay on a grassy knoll overlooking our long ago maryland dairy and imagined where the sky and the earth touched on the horizon. To my surprise, traveling toward the horizon made the answer all the more confusing.

Traveling to the west coast of the united states, crossing the central plains, I could see the southern rocky mountains in new mexico. Traveling 70 mph, the mountains slowly grew taller on the horizon. I imagined what the pioneers must have seen while traveling 10 miles per day by wagon train. They must have been surprised when they finally arrived at the foot of the rocky mountains.

As an adult, it is still facinating to study the horizons. It is more exciting to enjoy the view, rather than wonder where the sky touches the earth.

 
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Posted by on 2006/10/30 in Reminiscing

 

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Plants – nature lessons

Garlic Chives

While photographing some domestic garden plants on the first day of autumn, I noticed several plants have generated new growth, even thought the temperatures are beginning to drop.

Perhaps the human race would benefit by spending more time observing plants and trying to discover what drives them to generate new growth, creating new seeds that will carry their species through the next growing season, before they are greeted by a killer frost.

Have we blocked the signal that drives our endurance? Are we making excuses and creating reasons to distroy our environment and our lives, rather then to strengthen the survival of all living things great and small?

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/23 in Reminiscing

 

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Sandwich Picnic – Cape Elizabeth Maine

besusan.jpg

We picked up a couple of sandwiches at the Vaughan Street Variety on the Western Promenade in Portland, Maine today. I had a fresh baked foccacia smoked salmon, cream cheese, fresh dill, cucumber, and bermuda onion sandwich that was excellent. My wife enjoyed a fresh tortilla roast beef, swiss, romaine lettuce, and horseradish sauce rollup.

We took our VS Variety prizes out to Ft. Williams Park in Cape Elizabeth, Maine to eat, while enjoying the activities of the park and the comings and goings of vessels in and out of Casco Bay. There were still plenty of tourists poking around the Portland Light House wearing heavy jackets and rubbing their hands together to keep warm.

I spent the afternoon taking a few photographs and experimenting with them in Corel Photo-Paint.

The summer weather is fading away rapidly, but the leaves are not ready to change into their autumn wardrobe.

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/22 in Reminiscing

 

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Autumn – a long ago farm boy experience

As a long-ago farm boy, growing up on my parent’s Maryland dairy, the arrival of autumn was a little more than observing the first red leaf of the sugar maple up north in New England, not far from the Canadian Border, in the northwestern wilderness of Maine. That would come later in life.

Autumn was filled with responsibilities on the dairy farm. During the crisp nights of September, frost was lurking in the atmosphere, waiting for the temperature to drop. The farmer constantly checked the temperature on the big old thermometer hanging in the dairy.

Harvest time finally arrives for the vegetable garden and the vegetables are pulled from the vine, while potatoes and peanuts are dug from the soil. The fruits of the garden harvest are prepared in various ways for storage and later consumed and enjoyed during the cold months of the winter.

Harvest time finally arrives for the fields. Hay is mowed for the last time. Bales of hay are then stored in the barn. One of the last crops to be harvested was the field corn and stored in the corn crib.

During harvest time, the verses of James Whitcomb Riley stirred in your mind. A farm boy can identify with every verse of the wonderful poem linked below:

When the frost is on the Punkin

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/18 in Reminiscing

 

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The Flatbread Company – yum

Hot Coffee

We had an early dinner at The Flatbread Company

we each had a hot mug of coffee and split a nitrate-free pepperoni flatbread between us. we had ordered an organic salad: organic mesclun* and sweet leaf lettuce tossed with organic celery and carrots, toasted sesame seeds, arame** seaweed and homemade ginger-tarari vinaigrette dressing

sounds great doesn’t it! well the waitress forgot to put it in the order for our salads, so we went without… she did promise to put in the order for dessert if we wanted. we passed.

we ate out back on their wharf deck over the harbor and enjoyed the flavor as well as watching the activities around us.

I recommend this wonderful flatbread experience to anyone interested. You may even get your salad!

* an edible Pacific seaweed with broad brown leaves, used in Japanese cooking.

** a salad made from a selection of lettuces with other edible leaves such as dandelion greens, mustard greens, and radicchio.

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/18 in Reminiscing

 

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Tanka revisited

Longfellow Statue Portland, Maine

Tanka looks good married to an image.

Although it is the middle of September, beautiful flowers were blooming all around the Longfellow Statue on Longfellow Square Portland, Maine.

Looking down one of the streets from the square you see very old and new architecture in this old town nestled by the sea.

Portland Maine

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/16 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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Tanka – have you ever tried Tanka?

Tanka

Browsing my wife’s blog, I see her and her friends at One Deep Breath are exploring Japanese Poetry formats. Like Haiku, it is quite simplistic, but it stresses to follow a syllable format and allows you to give a more complete picture of an event or mood than Haiku. Tanka has been around for 1200 years or so, but relatively new to this country thanks to the Internet, Academia, and Individual Poets. I won’t go into the various degrees of how-to. Search Tanka on the web and you will find new information every day.

thirty-one syllables

line 1 – 5 syllables
line 2 – 7 syllables
line 3 – 5 syllables
line 4 – 7 syllables
line 5 – 7 syllables

my first try:

the poet statue
sits within the village square
year round tourist come
youthful memories inspire
journeys homeward quoting verse

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/12 in Poetry, Tanka

 

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9-11 2001-2006

A Remembrance and A Memorial

9-11 2001-2006

To the Victims and the Survivors

World Trade Center – NYC

The Pentagon – Arlington, VA

A Field – Pennsylvania

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/10 in Reminiscing

 

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Photography – revisited

Down East Lobstering

I’ve enjoyed photography since I was a youngster. I played around with box cameras on an elementary class trip to Baltimore and although I lost track of the photographs, I still can visualize them in my mind. As I got older, I purchased camera models where I had total control over the aperture and shutter speed combinations I wanted for particular compositions. I’ve used various flash bulbs and electronic flash units, but I prefer natural light.

I remember having a small cardboard with a cutout the size of a 35mm viewfinder. It was created as an aid for composition, so you didn’t have to lug a camera around with you, or use up expensive film, while learning how to compose photographs. You held the cardboard up to your right eye, while having both eyes open, you composed master piece photographs in your mind.

It was a good idea to learn how to use your cardboard cutout as fast as possible. I have composed many once in a life time compositions of wildlife, sunsets, mountain tops poking out of a river of fog in the valley below, and various other great shots that would make a professional photojournalist cringe.

I’ve enjoyed the Famous Photographers School and their wealth of knowledge and experience they shared for a small fee. They were and are truly the masters of their cameras.

Awhile ago I purchased an economical digital camera for my wife, with the intention of upgrading to a professional digital SLR with limitless controls. I have been silently impressed with all of her photographs and her willingness to push the limit of her semi-manual digital camera. She is now learning to control her new professional digital SLR with manuals, field guides, and the most important – taking photographs.

My wife took the above photograph of a down east lobster boat with her semi-manual digital camera – I’ve experimented with it in Corel Photo-Paint 11 and GIMP. I remember spending long nights in a dark room – smelling developing chemicals certainly would give you a headache.

Let me know what you thought about using a cardboard cutout – I hope you were amazed as I was the first time I tried it.

 
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Posted by on 2006/09/09 in Reminiscing

 

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Characters – life long friends

Those of you that read have many characters you call life long friends. When reading quotes from those special friends, a smile appears upon your face.

“Mrs. Joe was a very clean housekeeper, but had an exquisite art of making her cleanliness more uncomfortable and unacceptable than dirt itself.”

Pip – Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

 
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Posted by on 2006/08/16 in Reading, Reminiscing

 

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Haiku – have you ever tried Haiku?

haiku

My wife and I learned how to write Haiku during the summer of 2001 – she is more creative at it than I am already. Its quite simplistic, but it stresses to follow the rules, which are not that hard to follow.

seventeen syllables
line 1 – 5 syllables
line 2 – 7 syllables
line 3 – 5 syllables

one moment (with the emotion of that moment)
present tense
every word counts
include strong use of nature and preferably, an allusion to a season

Haiku is a Japanese lyric verse form having three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables, traditionally invoking an aspect of nature or the seasons.

my first try:

lovers sipping tea
circles of water mingle
hot afternoon sun

then, you can enhance it when your wife|husband shows you up!

sweethearts sip iced tea
circles of water unite
erotic summer bliss

Here are some we did after enjoying a picnic lunch by the ocean one summer afternoon:
(it was freezing, while there was a dense fog!)

sea smoke hides the sea
while happy dog chases ball
summer at the park

in vanishing fog
the brush reveals on canvas
the cool august sea

distant horn blasting
islands hidding in the fog
careful summer ships

the fog horns echo
dark gray clouds touching the sea
sailors tilt their heads

sitting by the sea
the tired traveler rests
summer gulls glide by

 
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Posted by on 2006/07/04 in Haiku, Poetry

 

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Quarter of a mile from hell

oh
Quarter Of A Mile From Hell

Out in the darkness a quarter of a mile from hell
Down a descending mountain was trouble I could tell
Sounds of crunching metal and shattering of the glass
Crashing upon the roadway the silence came at last

Ringing in my ears and stars within my eyes
Sharp pain within my body lives then quickly dies
Laying face down along the highway within the smell of gas
I heard church organ music and the praying of the mass

I lived on that night even dream I’m still alive
Roaring engine and squealing tires I was lucky to survive
Down a descending mountain was trouble I could tell
Out in the darkness a quarter of a mile from hell

If you’re too old to listen what your momma has to say
Out on the highway is a dangerous place to play
Some roads climb high and some roads descend
Healthy growing bodies don’t always want to mend

In search of adventure and living without a care
Who ever thought I’d spend the rest of my life in a chair
Down a descending mountain was trouble i could tell
Out in the darkness a quarter of a mile from hell

 
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Posted by on 2006/07/01 in Poetry

 

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Photography – more popular?

v

Photography seems more popular today than it did in the 60s. It is possible that what seems like more popular is actually an illusion, because the internet allows you to browse into the scrapbooks of more peoples lives than say the small social circles and relatives you hung around with in the 60s.

People are becoming more comfortable using digital cameras. It wasn’t that long ago when you had to untape the end of a roll of film and thread it into the spools of your manual camera. The 35mm film came is a cartridge with the raw film sticking out of one end. It still does. The sealed plastic Kodak instamatic cartridges were installed into the back of your camera and were a breeze to use – you popped it out – stuck it into a mailer and sent it off to the manufacturer or dropped it off at the nearest drug store.

I browse the photo servers for hours looking at photographs of the south western United States and any thing else that are posted there. There was a time when professional photographers had the best eye for light and composition. From what I have seen, I give a lot of credit to the amateur photographers who have posted samples of their work on the internet – I’m impressed and thankful you have shared your creativity with the world.

 
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Posted by on 2006/06/16 in Reminiscing

 

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Polished Stones

When I was a youngster, I enjoyed walking along small creeks and streams. I was always astonished by the shapes and sizes of various boulders, stones, and pebbles that have tumbled around in the water currents for centuries.

Various layers that make up a stone becomes polished and interesting to study. I don’t know how many times I’ve walked away from a mountain stream carrying a polished stone in mpsy hand.

If you have never held a polished stone in your hand, you may be surprised how habit forming this experience will become – you may not want to let go.

 
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Posted by on 2006/06/09 in Reminiscing

 

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