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.

August 29, 2012


... here's my ol' pa, "mr. frenchy," living his dream ... these were the years he "retired" to work in grand cayman, something he had hoped to do, i think, from when he first set foot on the island during world war two ... his house is just off the picture to the right of the cistern, so close to the water's edge that the front sliding porch doors had to be kept closed when the wind was pushing the sea onshore ... (it's gone now, completely erased by hurricane ivan) ... he kept his fish trap seventy feet or so out from the shore, wedged against a small outcropping of submerged iron shore ledge ... if it wasn't that he fed half of boddentown from that chickenwire and ironwood contraption, i know as a fact that anyone living on the manse road had only to ask. and, with his great smile included, their supper's main course was provided ...


... here's my grammy, according to the date on the slide mount this was taken during the summer of 1975 ... i'm not quite sure what it is with the curly cord that she's holding in her hand ... question: can anyone figure out where this was taken ...