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 31, 2020

... AND STILL TICKIN'

... john, "is a surprise where we're heading" ... for both of us, that's pretty hard to do in the state of maine, so i was excited ... after a bit of a drive we departed the state road and slowly negotiated a rather rutted and rocky backwoods track until we arrived at a somewhat spooky olden-time house ...
      
     
... blueberries ... millions and billions and zillions of them ... blueberries, from where i sat all the way to the horizon ...
      

     
... weird things, too ...
      

... a gone to fallow blueberry barren, biding time until it can be incorporated into protected public lands ... thus, of course, a most secret location ...

     
... one of the finest vistas of the western mountains i've ever enjoyed ...
      

... later, we stopped at an old favorite ...
      

     
... cool summer's-nearing-done air ...
      
 

... we met these nice ladies ... i had their names memorized—two weeks ago ... my bad ...
      
 
     
... again, of my most favorite spots in the entire world ...
      
     
... i took liz to the secret barren ... she carefully guided her ma's car up the road, i was impressed ... we managed to make a tiny little dent in the field's inventory ... yum ...
      

... john took me to lunch—in castine—for my birthday present ... fresh haddock enjoyed at the edge of a rather choppy-surfaced bay, then some picture taking ... this is four frames, stacked and merged ... nothing else done 'cept a minor edge sharpening ... i'm quite pleased because this is exactly what i saw on the highlands above the sea ...
      
     
... this one, too, only it's from seventeen frames ... "mysterious," that's what i felt ...
      
    
... and red berries, which overwhelmed me with their redness ...
      
     
... okay, out of sequence ... the narrows bridge ... yes, as you know, i do not like cable stay spans ... having admitted that, i'll also 'fess up that i like taking pictures of them, as i do of almost any bridge ... i like bridges ...
      
     
... my partner in crime ... interesting, no matter how much beauty we collect the remainder never seems any less ... hmmmm, perhaps one of those "modern math" things ...
      
     
... don't ask, i'm still trying to figure why i saw this ...
      
     
... while exploring a little beach on the west side of the peninsula we spotted on the distance shore this abandoned ship ... as we headed back we made a brief pause to investigate ...
      
     
... it is striking ... fabulously photogenic, especially if you're a zone-system kinda picture taker ...
      
     
... each of these images is the result of merging five frames in photomatix, then converting them to monochrome in photoshop ...
      
     
... this—this place is magical ... me, of the shore, for a brief moment in that most transitory of all places between land and sea, forgetting all my own story to hear the whispering, then listen, mesmerized, as ever so slowly enticed i become entrapped in the ship's tales of distant ports in places exotic and gales driving and beating, testing the strength of the bond binding sailor and craft to one another ...
      
     
... here, even as it timelessly dissolves and disintegrates in to the sand, still it carries a cargo of wanderabouting ...
      


Our anchor we'll weigh,
And our sails we will set.
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.
The friends we are leaving,
We leave with regret,
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound.

We're homeward bound,
Oh joyful sound!
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.
Come rally the capstan,
And run quick around.
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound.

We're homeward bound
We'd have you know
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.
And over the water
To England must go,
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound.

Heave with a will,
And heave long and strong,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.
Sing a good chorus
For 'tis a good song.
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound.

Hurrah! that good run
Brought the anchor a-weigh,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.
She's up to the hawse,
Sing before we belay.
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound.

'We're homeward bound,'
You've heard us say,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well,
Goodbye, fare-ye-well.
Hook on the cat fall then,
And rut her away.
Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound.