When you live around trees, you’re bound to see the transitions of their leaves, their fruit, etc. But even if you regularly engage in photography, you still may miss the best moments to capture the colors. Windows of opportunity can be short; I was lucky to capture some reds last year.
This year, the reds hit brown by the time I got there. (Of course, it’s November now.)
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets. —Paul Clifford, Edward Bulwer-Lytton.
(And, oh, were the winds intense, Sunday! I was afraid it was going to leak again.)
As you can see by the title, this isn’t part III of Winds of Change (which, unbeknownst to me, was a title of a song). That’s because the power has been restored. (Yay! I can finally write a complete post on the PC. In theory. And take a shower.) It came back on just before noon, making the time “off” about 2 days and 11 hours.
Now, this wasn’t ice storm of 1998 bad, which knocked us out for five days (worse for others) and tested our versatility in different ways. (Winter in Maine.) Being into electronics at the time, I wired batteries to lights taped to the wall, and even powered a CFL (via inverter). The lack of heat was the bigger problem. This decade’s problem: we have batteries in the living room we need to recycle.
Half of the season is already over. (In the U.S., anyway.) And I checked, mathematically: the midpoint was August 7… at around 2 in the morning.
The yellowing is more apparent now in the second half.
To update you on things, I’m still having trouble sleeping. But I’ve had good days. Seven hours total this morning.
No squirrels in the ceiling so far, thank god. Maybe they finally “got it” that it’s not worth it. This one—above—barked at me; later, two barked at each other. And, on my daily walk, I hear little chipmunks hiding from me… into the cracks of the side of the house. Continue reading Midsummer vegetation→
The difference five months makes. This is the trail that runs next to the house.
Last time on this blog, the area was covered in snow; now, it’s green with vegetation. Or, as one commenter put it: lush. This Monday, I was a bit annoyed with the stagnation in the house— being unable to deal with the squirrel that’s in our roof, for one; I stormed out.
I soon returned to grab the iPhone to take some pictures of the trail for the day.
So I managed to attend Saturday group. It seemed more welcoming this time around, and I responded to questions from across the room, though few. I know it doesn’t sound like much of an accomplishment to speak up, but it was better than not responding at all, which happened in a past month… probably last year.
God, so much time has passed so fast.
Time becomes a blur when you avoid the difficulties of the day. But I know time isn’t lost; the memories can become compartmentalized, harder to access when less involved or interconnected.
During break, virtually everyone left the room. Some walked outside; I did just that. It was an opportunity to get better, newer photos of the park area. Continue reading Ratfish→
At this point, the trees are practically bare (not counting the white stuff). But leading up to Thanksgiving (U.S.), there were still some reds on the trees.
The snow that appeared November 21 cleared enough by the next day; as you can see in the above pictures, it’s hard to tell that it snowed at all.
It was still cold enough that the large quartz heaters were set up outside the Tiqa Café. Not only that, but the people there were burning something. (I could smell it, and see a thin layer of smoke coming up in the center of the ‘seating area.’) Continue reading Fall update→
So, the last time I hit the trail near the house, on the day Maine-native Anna Kendrick’s Scrappy Little Nobody was scheduled to be released, I discovered another path connected to the large clearing. The first time I visited the clearing, it was starting to get dark (around sunset, plus rain) and I was only passing through, so I missed this path.
The precipitation had begun to pick up again Tuesday, so I put on my L.L. Bean cap. There was a noticeable decline in elevation, before hitting a split… or fork. Or…
There may be an infinite number of things we can do or ways to do them in life, but we only walk the paths we are ready to walk. We are not meant to walk them all. Or even see them all.
Sometimes we can become so buried in our work that we lose parts of the big picture. We can busy ourselves to exhaustion or pretend to avoid confrontation or danger (such as having a smartphone in front of us, or earbuds in to bore others), or to avoid pain… But life isn’t meant to be lived in a bubble. We are meant to feel, and do what scares us every now and then. We aren’t ants or plants; we are human beings.
Now, if there’s anyone who’s lived under a rock, it’s me. And I mean, I have nothing, nada, zip figured out from experience. The main reason why I can’t really write a novel is because my own living story is so empty. I am Exhibit A for someone who hasn’t done anything with his life.
However, since 2012, I have opened up to opportunity quite a bit. …Of course my methods have been awful as opportunity most always doesn’t return my calls. I’ve been reaching out to strangers, sometimes with my heart on my sleeve. Lots of failure.
Still, the people I’ve met these past four years have changed my life in ways big and small. I’m trying new things, attempting to socialize more, even if the results are not great. The Saturday group, for example— I learned things I couldn’t have possibly learned not going. Continue reading Paths undiscovered→