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.

June 20, 2015

LOST [SORTA]

... i drove up to carmel to pick up an item robert had bought in some on-line marketplace ... after that, i decided to wander awhile looking for some lunch ... most conveniently, dysart's truck stop appeared just as my stomach was beginning to get insistent ... a great turkey club sandwich, topped with some fresh raspberry pie, and i was off ... as i completed my before-riding bike inspection i noticed a very, very red motorcycle parked nearby ... i walked over and started up a conversation with its owners, jack and karen ... jack used to drive trucks, and he and his wife have shared several cross-country motorcycle wanderabouts ... this motorcycle is almost twice the weight of my bmw, and its engine is bigger than the motor in my first car ...

 ... after a very friendly chat with this nice couple, i hopped onto my bike and headed out ... pointed southeast, i decided to drive roads without numbers, with a little twist being that i'd alternate left and right turns whenever i came to an unknown lane ...

... soon, although i knew i was someplace between the atlantic ocean, the penobscot river, route 202 and routes 137 & 139, i was completely lost ...

... driving down an unpaved secondary road, most seriously in the proverbial "middle of nowhere," i came across this cemetery ...

... i was drawn to this grave ... i stood in front of the tombstone for several minutes, wondering about charles colson ... "who was he ... what did he do in the navy ... was he a husband, a father" ... ??? ... in this quiet field i found no answers to my questions, but i like to think captain colson appreciated my visit ...

... to my surprise, i popped out of the woods near swan lake ... from there i continued my wandering, alternating left and right turns onto twisty back roads and unpaved dirt lanes ... soon i found myself in brooks, where i took a break at ralph's cafe ...

... the decor included icons of my childhood, as well as many i recognized from the world that preceded my life ...

... i ordered iced coffee, which mike perfectly prepared and properly served in a chilled stainless steel carafe ... he related to me some interesting facts about the history of brooks ...

... outside of unity i watch these farmers as they went about their chores in a manner almost identical to how this work was done when this area was first farmed in the early 1800s ...

"Becoming lost is an art."
A.BRADY

CONCENTRATION


"This is how I envision Pat's mind when he is focusing on a shot ... everything around him goes black, other than what he is intently focusing on ... just him, his composition, his vision."
CHAD TRACY