Season’s Greetings

(May 14 2:53 p.m.)

So… quarantine.  Someone who doesn’t wash his hands around here got sick, surprise, surprise.  But I hadn’t been stuck indoors due to that, not quite.  But because my right shoe broke in such a way that part of it rubbed slowly cut into my foot.  And thus I couldn’t walk outside.

(May 14 3:49 p.m.)

Gawd, it was good to get outside again.  Hobbling in the process of buying new shoes wasn’t great… and worse that the shoes we bought were awful dress shoes that did not match the display shoe (face-palm).  (Going back, I found none of them matched that shoe!)  But I got the idea to tape some paper towel into my broken Air Monarch shoe, and got back out walking.

So green, so blue. (May 14 3:50 p.m.)

Looking-like-a-dork-with-a-mask-on aside, I was grateful for the sun and fresh air.

Dandelions.  Dandelions, everywhere. (May 18 3:17 p.m.)

With all this pandemic and complications from it, I’d almost forgot that everything had been blooming.

(May 11 12:26 p.m.)

It’s spring!  I need to cover spring in the blog!

(May 18 3:13 p.m.)

Okay, so the obviously-kid-drawn chalk rainbow is worth noting too. 🙂

(May 22 2:17 p.m.)

The cherry blossom trees are out in full force.

(May 22 2:17 p.m.)

These trees not long ago looked like this:

(Apr 22 1:13 p.m.)

(Apr 29 2:39 p.m.)

A month of flourishing is a lot in nature.  But even in April, these blossom trees still catch my eye.  A glance down the road off our street, I spotted the tree above.

(May 3 1:19 p.m.)

And more than one of these along this unrelated street.  And they’ve been shedding a lot— pink pedals way over on the other side of the street.

(May 1 5:35 p.m.)

And the pizza goes in my mouth.  …wait, that has nothing to do with spring. 😉

(May 19 1:23 p.m.)

I never saw these kinds of trees very often, living at my mother’s home.

(May 21 2:33 p.m.)

The Deering Oaks pond was filled recently, and the birds are enjoying it.

(May 21 2:47 p.m.)

The rippling water never ceases to amaze me.  (The pollution does not amaze me.)

(May 21 2:38 p.m.)

The trees: full of leaves.  The parking lot: now full of cars.

Wood chips: a feature, not a bug. (May 21 2:38 p.m.)

It was almost like a switch had been turned on— how people stayed away, and now the population of people was high.  A few park benches were brought back— maybe that encouraged these humans?

They say: don’t feed the animals.  One guy apparently got off his bike at the pond to feed the birds. (May 21 2:33 p.m.)

Nah, the humans were mostly elsewhere walking on pavement or sitting on the grass — even a family of a group, like a picnic.  Or playing volleyball.  Yes, volleyball during a pandemic.

Patch of flowers. (May 21 2:43 p.m.)

Just think… before all of this stuff, the beginning of the year looked like this:

(Jan 1 4:27 p.m.)

(Jan 4 3:04 p.m.)

I’m not sitting on that! (Feb 8 5:44 p.m.)

Yeah.  Can’t have good without some bad.  Or something like that.

(May 7 3:01 p.m.)

Aah… that’s better. 🙂

Well.  I hope things have been going okay for you, dear reader.  (And that’s addressing all of you; not singling out anyone.)  It’s been a tough year, and… let’s face it, one of the worst years.  You or someone you know has been affected financially or medically, etc., and I’m sorry.  I can only hope that I help in some way, with the photos or the prose, or the journey… progress.  Less noise, more flowers, more green leaves. 🙂

Or that I may sometimes remind you to breathe.  Take three deep breaths, first with your eyes closed; focus on your breathing.  Then, each next breath, open your eyes to your surroundings.  Observe.  You are here.

(May 21 2:37 p.m.)

No, not here in Maine.  Here/there.  Where you are.

(May 14 2:48 p.m.)

Anyway.  I’ll get on to posting photos of the remarkable places I’ve visited over the past year but haven’t yet shared in a post (or more) because I don’t quite know how to fit them in.  So many photos.  They’re coming.

Until next time…

Teachers help the world. (May 9 12:48 p.m.)