... my apartment front door opens onto the main street of a downtown for which many who govern believe the solution to empty storefronts and old buildings in need of repair and renovation is to pour money and energy into new development far from the center of the city ... typical, sad, and, in my opinion, clearly a myopic response that is not in the best interest of the city's long term health ...
... but enough of that ...
... having decided i'm not about to even consider running for office, i know i shouldn't complain, so, the next best thing, i go for a walk to enjoy the sights and sounds of my rather extensive front yard ...
... at "mainely brews" i fell into an classic 1930s mood ...
... "street abstraction," i guess that's the best description ...
... from main street i wandered through the little alley next to the old tonge building and made my way down to the banks of the kennebec river ...
... finally, spring begins to escape winter's confinement ...
... as always, i paused to admire the mathematically sublime essence of the two-cent bridge ...
... after crossing the bridge, i took a few moments to isolate two of my favorite trees, which are located in the little park next to the winslow fire station ...
... from the railroad tracks is a most fascinating perspective of this tiny knoll ...
... knowing that soon the underbrush will be so thick that it will be a much more difficult task, i worked my way down to the steep river bank ...
... only a few paces and the old log became a stranded river monster ...
... jutting through the layer of decaying leaves, a small section of the hundred-million year-old ledge that is the reason the ticonic falls exist ...
... now high from the spring run-off, soon the width of the river will be less than one-third this ...
... clearly it is not a casual walk along the river's edge ...
... a one-inch steel rope, perhaps a vestige of one of the industries that once existed alongside the kennebec river, it slowly rusts away back to the earth ...
... a plastic bottle, silently disappearing into the strata ... i laugh when i hear talk of how "plastic bottles will last forever" ... these rocks, hundreds of millions years old, formed from ocean bottom submerged so deep into the earth that soft silt was baked and formed into hard slate, they, too, are humored at the idea of "forever" ...
... soon, this tree will become soil as that from which it sprouted ...
... carefully, ever so carefully, i climbed down to the huge concrete abutment that i believe is a part of the dam ... i made sure to constantly remind myself, "fall in this, patrick, and you'll end up washing ashore somewhere in merrymeeting bay" ...
... as i crossed the memorial bridge, a sign for a store that no longer exists on the side of a building where once were sewn shirts for a most discriminating class ... awaiting development, right now the old structure is a place for the pigeons to congregate ...
... so difficult to believe, but ever so slowly these one-inch iron rods are surrendering to the creeping vines ...
... along the side of the road, a reminder that in all our lives are seasons within seasons within seasons ...
... as if to say, "you can celebrate my passing, i'll be naught but amused at your folly" ...
... ever so tiny, spring begins ...
... i hope you enjoyed our little stroll, thanks for joining me ...