stalking ivory

 

Another from this weekend’s outing. I always wished that I had a musical talent that went beyond singing in the shower. Alas, I can barely hold a tune… A trait that lies deeply in my family DNA. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to pick up or sit down with an instrument and make music?

Music is an important part of my life. I like to think that I walk around with a soundtrack in my head. Often, a particular song can mark a time in my life. When I hear it, I am instantly transported to my memories.

What kind of musical talents do you have? How do you use them?

r.i.p. barnaby millstone

Rooster

 

It is with great sadness that I must inform you all of the death of our beloved Barnaby Millstone. Barnaby was the Egg Production Manager and a real fixture at Carriage Hill Farm. Many of you remember that he was a rare bird… a friendly rooster. Part of Barnaby's good demeanor was probably due to the fact that he was all but blind and probably didn't know you were standing so close to him. Still, he was a fine handsome old rooster. We will all miss him dearly.

 

Rooster

 

If you would like to read our original interview with Barnaby, you can read it here: Interview With Barnaby Millstone

 

 

liking lichen

Liking Lichen

 

As a kid, we hiked a lot in the hills and mountains of New England. I remember my dad pointing out lichen on the huge granite boulders that we would pass along the way. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why he was liking all the rocks. Evidently, I was never the sharpest tool in the shed.

The end result is that now I am liking lichen. What a cool name. Lichen. It's just fun to say. What words do you think are fun to say?

 

living the life

The One for Renee

 

When I was young and growing up outside of Boston, my parents had two VW vans. They were not as fancy as this one but, for a kid growing up, we drove in style. The oldest was a 60s era rectangle with two doors on the passenger side. Dark blue on the bottom and a white top, we called the vehicle Fritzi. The 70s era microbus was light blue and had the first sliding door that I can remember on a car. In so many ways, these vans were ahead of their times.

When our family would go camping, my father would take out the center seat and replace it with a plywood box he had made. the box acted as storage but, would also fold out into a bed. Fritzi's windows had striped curtains for privacy when camping. We really looked like a hippy family when we were heading down the highway as we played I Spy and Punch Buggy.

We didn't have a lot of money when we were young. My father had to do all of the maintenance on the VW himself and I can remember that there was not much heat to speak of during the cold New England winters. However, when you are young, you don't realize any of that. All you know is that, when you all piled into Fritzi's cavernous interior, there was adventure ahead of you. Camping trips, beaches, forests, zoos, and road trips all bore witness to my family rolling and laughing down the road in a big VW bus. We might not have had much money but, we sure thought we were living the life.

 

Exposure 0.017 sec (1/60)
Aperture f/5.6
Focal Length 35 mm
ISO Speed 100

 

This image was shot just after dawn and was steadied using a tripod. I had been out shooting the sunrise over a field of corn when, I spied this church van on the way back to my car. I thought the rich morning light created a nice atmosphere for the bright colors. The original image had a giant power pole on the right hand side and heavy electric lines in the sky in front of the van. I removed them in Photoshop because they distracted from the van.

 

homeward bound

Contemplation

 

Today I am making the drive home after more than a week visiting with my family and friends in Georgia. I had a wonderful visit and while I was here, I made the grand tour of Atlanta and my families homes. I thought that for today's post, I would share with you some of the random images that represent what I will be remembering on my way home.

 

More Flowers 2

 

Manny

 

Fresh Blueberries

 

No Nukes

 

Green Snake

 

Morning Cow

 

I'll be thinking about the good times and great people I spent my week with. I hope you are meeting with good friends and family while you are making memories of your own.

Happy Saturday

 

mr. lee’s house

Georgia House

 

Sitting amongst the modern subdivisions in my parent's semi-rural Georgia town sits Mr. Lee's home. He and his wife have lived there for many years and their house is a reminder of another time. Homes like Mr. Lee's are disappearing all over the south and I will miss them when they are all gone.

As a younger version of me, I can remember seeing more of these homes. I would often see the lady of the house out sweeping the yard and even the occasional flock of chickens. Of course, there were dogs out in the yard and under the porch.

I hope the Lee's have many happy years ahead of them. When the time comes for them to pass, I know their home will go with them. When they are gone, their children will probably sell the land and a huge McMansion will take the place of what I think is a fine home and a reminder of what used to be.

 

love of cemeteries

Headstone 2

 

It is an oddity of my child hood that we spent quite a bit of time in old cemeteries. My grandfather would take us to a cemetery to pitch pennies while my mother and grandmother were shopping. My parents took us to cemeteries to make rubbings of the grave stones. They taught us to interpret the information on the grave stones to reveal a small part of the story behind the person lying there and the circumstances of their death. I recognize a mother that has died in childbirth by the presence of her infant child lying next to her, usually dying within hours or days of the mother. The influenza pandemic of 1917 is another easy to spot occurrence.

 

Cemetery Oak

 

Even the most meager of old cemeteries will often have wonderful trees that may have been growing for centuries, like this magnificent spreading oak tree. Here in Springfield Ohio, we have a small historic cemetery dating to the post colonial settling of the area.

 

Headstone 3

 

The cemetery holds the remains of American heros. Including one of the "Indians" that participated in the Boston Tea Party, just prior to the American Revolution. Many of the headstones can no longer be read, their inscriptions erased by time and the elements.

 

Headstone 4

 

Some of the headstones are crowned with colonial designs, quite different form the victorian decorations more commonly found in other old cemeteries in the area. The stones are worn, weathered, and often dressed in lichen and moss.

 

Headstone 7

 

Here we have the the remains of Elizabeth Strain, "Consort" to her husband. In this cemetery, the term consort is found on several markers while "wife" is often used as well. I don't know if there is any difference in the usage of the words at the time. Something for me to look into.

 

Headstone 6

 

I don't find cemeteries spooky or scary, even when visiting them at night. They are comforting and peaceful, as though I am in the presence of old relatives. I've visited cemeteries all over the US and in Europe. They all have the same familiar feel to them, though customs often differer between them.

I am thankful that my parents and grandparents taught us to enjoy cemeteries. For me, I treat them with the same reverence that I give to libraries and churches. Whenever I need a peaceful hour, I know there is always a cemetery near by. Have a little time to kill? Look for a cemetery. The older, the better. I am not impressed with polished granite and marble. A nice worn stone will do fine.

What are your feelings about cemeteries? Do they have any special memories or connotations to you?

 

 

memorial day

Memorial Day 3

 

Here in the U.S. we are in the midst of a long three day holiday weekend as we celebrate Memorial Day on Monday. This is a holiday dedicated to remembering our veterans that fought and died for our freedoms, beliefs and security. We celebrate with mixed emotions. Thinking of the death of those we have loved is tempered by the unofficial start of the summer season. On one hand we think about loss and sacrifice while on the other hand we make the most of the long weekend by opening our pools and firing up our grills. It's that duality of the holiday that can often be confusing for me.

 

Memorial Day 3

 

I make a point of visiting our local cemetery over the holiday weekend. Springfield has a beautiful national cemetery that seconds as an arboretum. On this weekend more than any other, people visit the cemetery. Families lay flowers and the occasional cherished object on the graves of those that are dear to them. As in many American towns, local veterans groups place flags on the graves of every veteran. The flags are a stark reminder of how much sacrifice has been made on our behalf.

 

Memorial Day 2

 

More than the memorials, the statues, or even the grave stones, the flags get to me. They are a dynamic symbol, full of life and movement in stark contrast to the markers and stones containing the names of the dead.

They can not be easily dismissed from memory as we devour our holiday picnics and play at our summer games. We remember them.

 

 

poppy bud

Poppy Bud

 

Soon, this bud will explode into a brilliant red bloom. I like poppies. To me, they represent history on a grand scale. From Afgani poppy fields to old paraplegic men selling paper poppies on memorial day, the poppy has witnessed and participated in much of our past & even more of our future. However, it's those men and their sacrifices that haunt my thoughts when I see poppies. I always have time and pocket change enough for those men selling paper poppies.