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.

November 1, 2013

SOX OF YESTERYEAR

... watching the sox win the series at home for the first time since 1918 brought to my mind a time when the grass was just as green, the games were just as exciting, but, unlike today, it was a time when a photographer with a long lens could afford a seat alongside the dugout ...

... no beards, no gold chains, i can live with the changes that've taken place, but, as for fox broadcasting, i'll gladly take the good ol' days ...

MUSEUM MEMORIES

... from the huge stack of cd/rom discs stored on my merry-go-round cubby, here're a few images from the museum of art in boston and the portland museum of art ...




... these were all shot with my first "serious" digital camera, a 4-megapixel olympus e-10 ... an eater of batteries, and you could take a nap as it saved an image to the cf card, yet twelve years after its debut no "consumer level" (i.e., "affordable") digital slr has yet matched the e-10's brilliant wide-field viewfinder ...


AUTUMN CONTINUES

... this time of year most find autumn ended, but for those who make the extra effort it's willing to linger awhile ...

... jacket zipped, gloves tucked in the pockets, i went for a stroll along silver street ...

... beneath my feet, autumn continues ...

... in delicate translucence, autumn continues ...

... in shadowy juxtaposition, autumn continues ...

... a single leaf proclaims that, indeed, autumn continues ...

... even for those who resist, autumn continues ...

... captured, autumn continues ...

... reflected, autumn continues ...

... in a golden ray of afternoon sun, autumn continues ...

... autumn continues, a wonderfully endless mystery ...

HOME IS THE SAILOR

R.I.P.
George Andrews
1924-2013


Home is the sailor, home from the sea:
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.

Home is the hunter from the hill:
Fast in the boundless snare
All flesh lies taken at his will
And every fowl of air.

'This evening on the moorland free,
The starlit wave is still:
Home is the sailor from the sea,
The hunter from the hill.

—A.E.HOUSEMAN