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 sixth 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.

Comments, thoughts, or just a friendly chat, use the response box below or email me at patrickgroleau@gmail.com.

December 9, 2017

SUNRISE WANDERABOUT

... in the dark john and i headed down to the coast to catch the sunrise ... even before we arrived at reid state park i knew my "photographic vision" was pretty much absent, so i decided to simply relax and share the morning with you ...
  
... i began to notice things that matched my mood ...
  
... we'd arrived at the beach a few minutes after the beginning of the sunrise, this made up for our tardiness ...
  
... who needs diamonds ... ??? ...
  
... o'rhead a flock of geese circled twice, then flew away to the southwest ...
  
... i watched a seagull make a water landing worthy the china clipper ...
  
... forensic evidence of a morning snack ...
  
... i noticed tiny things ... first, created by what i think was some odd aspect of hydralic physics, was the line demarcating wet vs. dry sand, then was a minute piece of sea plant ...
  
... i wonder if there are others who see this as a strange beast washed up from its home in the darkened depths of the sea only to learn it likes the sun's warmth ... ??? ...
  
in thine heart softly i am blanketed
as a shore by the foaming sea
H.APPLETON
  
... there are beings that live between worlds ...
  
... others, alone like me, had wandered the beach ... did they, too, leave tears ... ??? ...
  
... soon to be sand, eventually part seawater's composition ...
  
... the sea's orchestra behind me as i faced a symphony of beach grass, not for any fee could a concert hall provide such a seat ...
  
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
J.MASEFIELD
  
... waiting ...
  
... we met a nice gentleman who gave us directions to visit his brother's guest house on the north side of the island ... was a beautiful view from what is most likely a "seven digit" vantage ..
 
... fort popham, from bay point ... during the closing days of the civil war it was commanded by augustin thompson, who later went on to earn fame and fortune as the inventor of "moxie" ...
  
... john, who i think might one of those rare people who actually like moxie, snapped a picture of me ...
   
... on one of maine's most popular stretches of sand this time of year is not a soul to be seen  ...
 
... we paused at another of the state's famous forts ...
 
... although built for strategic defense, during the early-1800s fort edgecomb served mostly to enforce unpopular embargo laws ...  
 
... as our photographic outing was winding down i saw another still at the beginning of a long work day ...

... the cuckolds light is now a very nice (and rather pricey), bed & breakfast ...

 
... john, from a shore where as a child he "ran across the tops of the rocks" ... 
 
... we shared a nice lunch in boothbay harbor ... and, yes, for those who know me well, this is john's plate ...
 
... we were curious when we found an old timber ship being rebuilt ... later john's research discovered that this multi-million dollar effort is going to bring the 120 year-old schooner "ernestinna-morrssey" back to the sea ...
 
... quietly tranquil, no hint of the forecasted gale ...

... it's nice to think a barn can be happy ...

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS