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 24, 2013

A STROLL ALONG THE KENNEBEC

... no motorcycle—it's in the shop for repairs—so i decided to take a little stroll along the walking strail that follows the west bank of the kennebec river from waterville to fairfield ...

... my first stop was the opera house ... you have to appreciate a town office that makes an effort to help you enjoy paying your parking tickets ...


... i watched a young woman escort her children across the "two cent bridge" ... all the way across they kept breaking free of her hands ... the little girl stopped every few feet to take in a slightly different perspective of the view, the little boy grabbed ahold of just about every metal girder and strut his little fingers could grasp ... scolding and clucking like a mother hen with errant chicks, still she allowed them their little explorations ... i liked this ...


... along the banks of the river are huge quarried stones placed to stem erosion ...


... these're some kind of forest weed ... i always wonder, was the rose the same, just another prickly plant with a pretty flower until someone decided it would look good planted in their back yard ...


... what a strange looking being ... then again, i wonder what it thinks when it looks at me ...


... along the trail, river on one side and, above, the railroad yard on the other ...  between these, for but a brief moment, i found it as if the forest had never ben cut, pavement and asphalt didn't exist, and time hadn't yet been measured ...


"Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence."
—HENRY DAVID THOREAU