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 seventh 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.

January 18, 2012


... circa 1960, somewhere along the seward highway, probably near moose pass, on alaska's kenai peninsula ... the news of cordova's current twenty-six foot accumulation brought to me the memory of the day my pa decided to "take us for a drive" to see the snow piled in the region of heavy precipitation along the southern coast of alaska ... we drove forever the almost-tunnel through the massive banks of snow lining the road that followed the floor of a steep glacial valley cut between the mountains of what is now the kenai fjord park, layers of white ice piled higher than the roof of our little rambler american wagon ... it was a lonely road, with few other vehicles appearing from either direction, and i was fully aware that at any moment one of the car's tires might explode or a large chunk of the engine might suddenly appear behind us, common occurrances in those ancient times ... i also knew that living in the frigid landscape on the slopes above us were all sorts of furry critters which were sure to be drooling at the thought of gulping down a nice, warm snack-sized nine-year old boy ... naturally, as befit the situation, when pa said, "let's stop and get out to take a picture," i should have been nervous, anxious, perhaps even a bit frightened ... but, as you can see, i wasn't ... the calmness of his voice, the power in his hands upon the steering wheel, the strength in his eyes, i knew that he could fix any part of the car that broke, and that not even the meanest, nastiest, most blood-thirsty of the carnivorous creatures living in the snow covered forest, none of them would dare leave the safety of the woods to face him ...

... when we stopped i had to pee ... i didn't want to be seen, naturally, so ma said, "just go behind the car" ... mike went with me and showed me how to help him make a neat little yellow cave in the snowbank .... it was a great day ...