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.

October 21, 2016


... chickens were happy, or so their little dance number seemed to indicate, so i decided to do some wanderingabouting in the autumn mist ...

... within a few minutes of leaving the house it was obvious that the mist was becoming rain, and i knew i'd have only a few minutes to find some nice leaves ...

 ... standing on the side of the road in new hampshire, i snapped a picture of some maine trees on the other side of the field ...

... finally, before heading up to conway to do some grocery shopping, i paused along the shore of crystal lake and found this beautiful vista of eaton, new hampshire, and "the little white church" ...

When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like ag├Ęd warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek--
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that Beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again--but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn! Autumn!--What is the Spring to me?