Tarmac ribbons criss-crossing the landscape, dusty back roads twisting between the cool shadows of ancient pines, and less traveled pathways connecting present to past, all I wander, seeking, seeing, with my keyboard and camera capturing scenes and stories to share with you.

Now in its fifth year, this venue has become an important part of my life, a place where I can express my thoughts and feelings about the things I see and do, hoping the process brings me a bit closer to friends and family who enjoy sharing my sometimes chaotic and often nonlinear observations and ideas. A journal, I suppose, but one with which I find pleasure in thinking others are alongside me on my journey.

July 20, 2016

MY GRAMMY

... scanned from a kodachrome slide taken in grand cayman in 1976, i believe, ma's mother, my grammy, elizabeth jackson ...

... simply the thought of a disapproving glance from her was more than enough to ensure that i very, very carefully knocked the dirt from my shoes before entering the house ... she made for us cassava cake so rich that a single piece was in itself a fabulous meal ... of the special coconut candy she would make up just for me—well, i'll tell you, i think a fellow could a handle a long stretch of hard time if he knew that every now and then a little package of that carefully crafted caymanian confection was going to arrive by post ...

A STORM WANDERS BY

... towards evening the sky to the west of my downtown apartment began to hint at what the national weather service had already issued emergency warnings ... as i took this picture the weather radar was displaying a giant red blotch just over the horizon to the far left in the photograph ...

... soon great mountains of cloud erupted into the stratosphere ... i clicked the little "future" button on the radar display and saw that there were now two red blotches ... it appeared they were going to pass on each side of waterville ... i crossed my fingers ...

“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.”
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE


... even though a great curtain of water cascaded darkly from the sky only a few hundred yards away my rooftop vantage remained dry ...

... sirens echoed in the distance ... thinking of the warning that there might be "golf ball sized" hail or even a tornado, i could only hope that my friends living to the north of me were safe and secure in their homes ...

... then, in a moment, it was over—at least for me, that is ... 

... i asked pa if storms were g*d being angry ... "nah, they just reminded us to appreciate clear skies" ...