To me there is something very beautiful about a fog. Especially when, such as this, the sun is coming through in some parts and you can see the highlights of what is hidden.

This is Laurel Lake. I have posted pictures of it many times before as it is close to home and on the main north south road in the Berkshires. A favorite kayaking spot except for this summer as it has been closed off for boating due to an infestation of zebra mussels. The concern is that tiny baby mussels will adhere to any boat in the lake and will then contaminate the next body of water it visits.


These little mussels are also hidden from most as it much of the lake in this fog.


Today I had an experience that warmed my heart and lightened my soul. People can sometimes be amazing in their understanding and compassion and in being just genuinely good; all in a very understated and normal way. I have experienced this several times but today was the most recent and it makes me smile.

Joy and peace to all who visit here.

Understanding

As I continue to add days to this life I am more fully understanding that beyond taking care of the basics, a large part of our journey is "understanding":




understanding ourselves, understanding others, and being willing to continually revise that understanding throughout our lives as we learn and observe and discover....



and to be ok that this is a journey and to give ourselves permission to revise. A life is not totally written until it is over.

I have often wondered if people who I consider wise, have a similar self perception? I expect that if you asked them, they would say no. Whether be out of modesty or honest belief, we would never know.

There are times when I might consider myself "wise", such as when I am working through an issue or guiding a process with someone else or retrospectively see a decision I made as being precisely on. I will sometimes leave a meeting and think, "was that me in there?" or get a compliment on some really "grown up" thing that I did or said. There are times when just from life experience I know how to adroitly manage a situation. But then there are the times I hesitated when I shouldn't have, was naive or totally unsure of myself or when regretfully, I was also a complete ass.

I used the term grown up earlier because I think of myself as much younger that what the calendar reports back to me. I have heard others say that as well, but when I am sometimes around people my own age or sometimes younger, they just seem to act and look so old. But that's another topic.

I see myself as accumulating experience and learning from my ignorance or bad choices and often thinking of how to use this going forward. I also find that I learn so much from the way others act. Out of a sense of entitlement or perhaps insecurity or they are just clueless, but they act like absolute asses in the way they treat people, handle a problem or just behave (on not) in general.

I have a hard time not thinking back and wondering, wouldn't it have been great to have the perspective I have now at the time when I did something out of fear, anger, worry; when I did something that ended up hurting someone or myself or set in motion a series of events that continues. I guess it is better to have this awareness at the age I am than to be a 90 and have even more regret and hopefully it will reduce the times I act the ass that I will later regret.

One of the most important things I think I have learned is to not always react, to let thing settle a bit before responding or not or to disagree. Even more important I am learning to be ok with that.

So I wonder, do we ever get to the point in life when we are wise enough and comfortable enough that this is second nature? I'll guess I'll wait and see and in the meantime keep plugging.



note: I realized when I wrote this that the word "ass" keept coming up and even through use of a thesaurus I just couldn't find a word that encapsulated the feeling.

September

You can tell it is September in the Berkshires without even looking at the calendar. Though it's a few days early, I've already noticed leaves beginning to fall on some of the trees, the goldenrod is leaning over and many of the tall weeds along the edge of the woods are doing the same; bending over to drop their seeds for next year.



Like a timer that has clicked, at September 1st the temperature drops, light becomes dimmer and while there will be some warm days ahead, they are never as intense.






Its one of the last tourist weekends. The annual Tub Parade was yesterday and the Great Josh Billings Triathlon is taking place across town as I write. 26 miles of biking, Canoeing around Stockbridge bowl and then a 6 mile run. There are hundreds or teams breaking up the legs and dozen of Iron-people taking on the who feat themselves.
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Summer seems to far away as we look into the face of fall and prepare for the cycle of winter and cold. But for today I'll enjoy the sunny fall weather and remember fondly the summer.

Out on the river

Kayaking out on the river in the later part of the day. Starting out at the pond, the growth of plants in the middle is vast and covers a good portion. Here the water is shallow with years of matted plants but the current keeps a channel open.




Leaves and brush float slowly in the current. It doesn't fight the paddle but doesn't let you float idle either.



There is a slight breeze in the air. Toward the sides, up against the woods its difficult to ascertain it I hear a waterfall from the hills above or the rustling of the leaves of the trees. It could be either or both.

The water is still, the sky and the clouds reflected like a mirror.





Plants that have a round leaf as a lilly pad but with a blue flower abound, thick mats in clusters.



The bridge to the forest, a great fishing spot.


For a while the river follows a trial and dirt road and voices of hikers and travelers can be heard through the trees.



The leaves of the birch begin to turn to a yellow green.



Paddling slowing there is so much wildlife. Ducks, geese, muscrats and beaver. A crane was in this spot until it heard the sound of me turning on the camera and then off it flew upstream.

Odds

I'm out for a 3.5 mile run on a long stretch of road where you usually run on the side of the road. Up ahead in the distance I see a car coming. Behind me, also in the distance, I hear another car coming.

What are the odds that both cars will meet at exactly the same spot that I am at -with me still running forward?

You'd be surprised that the odds are actually pretty good and it usually happens at least once every time I am on this route. Fortunately no one goes too fast and I am usually able to move to the side on the shoulder.

Why don't I have those odds when I buy a lottery ticket?

Morning

Morning......the stillness.....the mist in the valley hanging in the air......the drops of dew from the leaves make a sound like a gentle rain........the sun peaks over the mountain, a back light to the night clouds........


even the sounds of quiet are muffled and soft......the grass makes a sound as it straightens and shifts.....the rabbits nibble in the grass, their gentle chewing seen but not heard......the spirit is rising.......joining night with day......the peacefulness of sleep becomes the gentleness of wake.



It is morning and it is good!

People seem to complain a lot. It is so easy to overhear folks in the store or workers chatting with each other or even people sitting in a restaurant and often they are complaining. The talk seems to be much about something someone else did or didn't do or if it was done wasn't done in the way the person wanted it done or would have done it themselves. Or its one person complaining about work and their job: how rotten it is and how the boss doesn't listen or care. On and on and on it goes and the other person often tries to one up with the tales of their own. Life must really suck.

Of course the other person is always wrong government or some business is doing something to them. There must be this vast conspiracy because this person seems to experience this slight everywhere. It is always a major inconvenience or a perceived slight or the other person is a complete jerk.

Of course some degree of complaining is warranted and there are incompetent people out there in the wrong jobs who could care less about you or anything they are doing and there are legitimate things going on that are not all positive. I can also assure you if you monitored my speak for a while you would find me periodically in complaint mode.

But I can take this only so much from others and from me. As I get older and perhaps wiser and more tolerant my threshold is getting shorter, especially from me. While I have had challenges and adversity at points in my life and some serious stuff to overcome, I do in many ways consider myself very blessed and I try to remember that when I start to down the complaint road.

It takes perhaps a little more energy to try to be positive or to find something positive about something or someone or to just brush off these "inconveniences" or interrupt the complaint mode and put it aside. It just takes more practice.

Yesterday I learned something about someone I used to work with, someone I hired and trained and worked closely with for a few years up until a couple of years ago. A friendly, gentle, bright, hard working guy a few years older than me and with whom for more times than not, I enjoyed working with.

He got up yesterday morning; he probably showered and shaved and packed up his lunch and read the paper over breakfast. Maybe put out the trash and recycling. He perhaps stopped for a coffee on the way to work or filled up his car with gas for the commute and for plans he had after work. He went into work and probably once he got there visited with folks and settled into his office for work.

A few hours later he stumbled out of his office asking for help and died of a heart attack.............

So what was it I had to complain about?

Reality check!

Meet Paul

For Father's day I received a somewhat unusual and wonderful gift from my kids. It's a beta fish that I have named "Paul". I find that it's not only me but the entire family that have become attached. No there is nothing symbolic about the name. It is something that came to me with unusual clarity and certainty. So perhaps he was a Paul in a previous life.

Paul was originally given for me to take to work for company and to keep me amused. He started off on the kitchen table and needed to "stay around" a few days to make sure that he was ok and for our resident fish expert to keep an eye on the transition. Then Paul seemed like he might be developing dropsy, which kept him around a while longer. It ended up being that Day was just over feeding and the "swelling" was undigested food. So I curbed it a little and it all became fine.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into a month and everyone has come to accept that Paul will probably be a permanent resident of the kitchen table, moved seasonally to make room for the advent wreath or other special things, but then return.

Its fun to see that we all check in with Paul, though I am the feeded and bowl cleaner. He is company when we eat our individual breakfasts and lunch and there for the family dinner. He's even been intrduced to visiting friends as. "and this is my Dad's fish Paul".

The lighter side of life has to make you smile..............

One thing there has not been an absence of this summer, at least in these parts, is rain. Just about every weekend and days in between there seems to be a storm and not much time for things to dry out before it starts up again. The backyard is very green but has little time to dry out between mowings. Not that I particularly love mowing but I know how difficult it is when it gets long, especially on the edges of the leech field where it naturally grows fast.



On a night like tonight the storms come in waves with rain so heavy you can't see out the windows. At least it isn't a Tanglewood night. All those people on the vast lawns ready to enjoy a concert and the skies open up and the lightning cracks across the sky. I have been to concerts there when they actually had to take a break because the sound of the rain on the roof was so loud that it was drowning out the orchestra and the lightening has people scurrying for cover. Tonight would have been one of those nights.



The configurations of the mountains and valleys can make these storms even stranger. It could be a downpour here with blazing lightning, yet across town or a few towns away it is completely dry with just some lightning in the distant sky.


So this will be one of those summers remembered as not being much of summer, at least from the weather perspective. Not much heat and lots of rain. Some of the flowers have had just about enough. The petunias never having enough time to dry out are looking brown and withered. The basil in the pot is holding its own but not growing much beyond replacing to few pieces picked off. The front side of the house, continually in need of painting from the southern exposure, stares at me in need as I come and go and I stare back and shrug, take a number and give me several days of dry. Meanwhile I'll tackle a project I don't dread as much.

But other than this unusual weather its a typical Berkshire summer. The tourists are around, though I don't notice them much in my travels. The kids are busy and we are shuttling them between jobs and friends. As usual it seems amazing that August is upon us and fall not far behind. The thoughts of pellets for the stove and readying for winter already in the plans and on the lists. Its a little more scattered than usual and thus we more scattered and thus me doing less writing or being about in places that inspire ideas and pictures. It is also a time of transition in our family and we are all acutely aware of that. So enjoy what we can and when we can for you never know when the next downpour will occur. Wait here it is!

The Dancing Balloons

A few days ago I was leaving work, the usual jockeying and pushing to get on the highway and then quickly move over to the far lane I needed to be in for a cut off. Its always a challenge and I often am cursing some car under my breath because I can't get in.

Then I rounded the bended up ahead it could see several balloons. [small party ones: yellow, orange, red] bouncing along the road at car level. The air currents of the rushing cars caused them to dance and bounce, never hitting ground they flew up and swooped then dropped with each passing car.

I found myself immediately lighten a bit and it made me smile.

Why is this? Was the absolute freedom of flight? Was it the whimsical way these appeared and then disappeared in my rear view mirror? Where did they come from?

I would have wished to have watched them a while longer but very shortly they were right up to me and then quickly passed by, amusing someone else farther back.

Balloons have a way of making people smile. From the smallest child they seem to brighten our moods in ways hard to explain. Thank you balloons!

The Mount

One of many great things that the "Friends" groups of the local libraries do is to provide passes to local museums and cultural sites that can be checked out for the weekend just as you would a library book. For locals this is a great opportunity to see some of the things we pass almost daily without paying the sometimes significant entrance fees.

A few weekends back we visited the Mount which is about 5 minutes from when I live and yes we pass it almost daily.

This is one of the "Berkshire Cottages" designed by and built for Edith Wharton in the early 1900s. She live there for about a dozen years and wrote several of her noted works there.

I been there many years ago when performances of Shakespeare & Company were done in the gardens, but had never seen the grounds in the day light or since they had been restored.

From the road and gates, what you see is the carriage house and caretakers cottage, which years ago I though was the house itself and thought what's the big deal. They are big but not much to talk about.

Inside the gates and past the carriage house is the road down to the house



Meandering along a stream the road winds down coming toward the side of the house. The formal gardens with a fountain, a path lined with trimmed aspens and a sunken garden where a wedding was going on when we arrived.



Of course when you are a local, the day to day dynamics of venues such as this are in the news and part of local talk and sometime they just blend into the background. For years this was a boarding school and then vacant for many years afterward until Shakespeare and Company began renting it for performances and sought to purchase and restore it. The non-profit they formed to pursue and implement the restoration in the end turned on Shakespeare & Company and evicted them so that the house and grounds could be use just as a monument to Edith Wharton.

The restoration has been expensive and they paid a million to purchase Edith Wharton's library from someone in the UK. Last year was almost their last as the $3 million in debt was being called by the bank and threatening foreclosure.

But with some management changes and some donor help and help from the bank that really didn't want to be labeled as foreclosing on a historic landmark that it would have a hard time selling, they seem to be OK for now. Struggling but making it, like many similar places these days.

But on this day this history was just a footnote in the context of enjoying the sights. The restoration is well done and while it still has parts to be done it is interesting and the gardens nice to walk around.

The Power of the spoken word

There were so many wonderful things going on in the Berkshires this holiday weekend. Too many for one person to do but choices for just about everyone. Starting off on the annual Independence Day 5k, I was one of 1100 to race down the Main Streets of Pittsfield. The streets lined with thousands of people waiting for the start of one of the largest 4th of July Parades in the country. There was more than enough encouragement to keep you from slowing down or the dreaded thought, walk for a bit. I made it across the finish line at a little slower than last year but still a decent finish.

Perhaps the most significant event I attended was the annual reading of the Declaration of Independence, at Shakespeare and Company. Several hundred gathered on the sloping lawns in the sun and breezes for festive music and "introduction of the 70 or so signers and of the declaration and state delegates. The whoops came up as the states were announced, with the audience having a definite affinity to NY, NJ and Mass. and with a vocal contingent from Virginia.

Then to main event as one by one the delegates came up to the microphone to read a short section of the declaration. Sometimes a few words or a whole section, it flowed quickly in an even flow. Some readers were clearly actors from the Company and articulated and enunciated their parts with passion. Some were elected representatives, for whom this experience must have had some significance. Some were everyday people.

I have read this document but do admit that I have never taken as much from it as having it read out loud. As the familiar phrases range out there were cheers from the crowd and the final lines repeated a couple of times by all of us.

I have often thought that the spoken word is powerful, so much more to me than the written. Like a story unfolding, the voice of the speaker lifts the words off the written pages and they soar through the air and the feeling the reader conveys brings the meaning behind the words and a depth of thought.

Happy Independence Day

Chickens

For the past several days I have been caring for friends' chickens. I wasn't part of arranging for this but due to scheduling conflicts and the fact that I am the early riser in the family, I was the one who got the task by default.

I have had very little to do with chickens other than cooking and eating, so I had no idea what to expect. I have had experiences with ducks and geese and they are on the ornery side, so my apprehension was up. The job was to check them in the morning, open up their house and let them out into their pen and change the food and water, and of course pick up the eggs. If it had been longer I am sure that it would have involved more cleaning and shoveling but this was only a few days.

I have to admit I started this with a little of an attitude. A little miffed that the job was falling on me when I had nothing to do with volunteering and also the good grief attitude of these stupid creatures that are going to peck me and constantly try to get out of the pen.

We started the task with the nighttime job and the chickens needed to be herded into their house before it could be closed. They were all over the place and would go inside. The next morning I went over shortly after dawn and heard the clucking from inside. I opened the hatch and one by one they marched out and clustered around me. Give me Space!, I was thinking. I opened up the pen and there were no eggs. Oh well, It seemed odd but then what do I know about chickens. So I filled the food and changed the water and went on my way.

The topic of chicken sitting (try saying that several times fast) came up at work. Not an normal topic but I shared it as the reason I couldn't run in the morning and I mentioned that there were no eggs. Someone who knew something about chickens said, "they don't know you, perhaps don't like you and are scared". Huh! Like me? Know me?

So I pondered on this through out the day. When at dusk I arrive to get the chickens ready for the night I started to talk to them and moved in quieter moves and the easily went into the house and I could close it up. The next morning we did the same routine only I'd gotten smarter than the day before and scattered some food in the pen to occupy them while I tidied things up. They clucked and cooed and there was one egg. As I slowed down I found that my attitude changed.

That night I arrived and they were already in their house ready for the night and I just said my hellos and goodbyes and closed up the house. I could see one of them was on the roost and the others were softly clucking on their nests.

I repeated this each day and they seemed to greet me each morning. Getting the eggs out of the nests no longer required me poking under the sitting chicken as she seemed to know what I was up to and flew out into the pen. Not only did I come to enjoy my short visits with the chickens but the number of eggs increased each day.

These are very basic creatures that need to be fed and given water and be protected from predators and not much more. Of course I know that there is the shoveling and cleaning that I wasn't part of, but that seems pretty typical when you have any animals.

In return for this they gave eggs and had this very relaxing clucking sound that made the beginning and end of the day pleasant. As usual connecting with most anything in nature slows me down and that is usually good and what I need more than I think.

With the friends coming back I have to say I am going to miss not taking care of the chickens. Strangely (or not) I learned something from them.

Morning

One the truly spectacular views in the Berkshires. A camera can't do it justice.



Click on one of these and open it up and you'll get a better sense.



I could just sit and stare for hours.

I was driving the back road to Pittsfield last night and passing the gates and wrought iron fence of Eastover Resort I notice that the black plastic is around the tennis court. For the locals we all fondly refer to this as the coming of summer and the arrival of nudist weekend.


Most of the resort extended far back from the road so there it lots of privacy and the black plastic is really the only indication of what is going on. Finally after 13 years of living here I did some quick research and it is actually the eastern gathering of the naturalist society.

http://www.naturistsociety.com/NEWWebPages/ENG09Page.htm

Unfortunately Eastover is in the process of closing and up for sale. A victim of the economy perhaps and of the cost of maintaining older building and extensive grounds and vying for business from many other more upscale competitors. The buffalo that for decades grazed the vast meadows and coraled area by the road have been sold off as is the huge civil war memorabilia collection that Eastover was famous for in the process of auction.

So we will miss this beacon of summer next year, the black tarps around the tennis court and wonder where they will now go.

I yearn to again feel at peace. I remember that feeling so clearly but it has been such a while. I yearn to not feel that so much is going on that requires my attention that I am skimming on the surface of life and weeks and weeks are passing. I yearn to feel truly well again for it has been such a long stretch without something going on. I yearn to be able to the out in the sun and run for miles, though my conditioning is so far off it would take months to achieve but it would mean that I feel well enough to start.

In my minds eye I can feel the peace....I try to hold on to it....to grasp it.....I embrace it ......and then I usually asleep.

I look up at the sky and to the clouds and think, wow those things are really tall and high up there. The camera makes these look like they are just above the trees. I was driving along yesterday a few hours before a heavy storm and though it was a sunny day there were clouds that were in columns that must have gone up for miles. Miles.... just think of it. Miles to just to get up to them and then miles to the top. How different these are from the wispy clouds we see so frequently, especially in the morning in the valleys. Spacial relationships really are a challenge when you let yourself get lost in the depths of things like clouds. They look so small a solid until you are up in the middle of them. Then they are clearly vapor but go on and on and on.





My daisy patch is expanding and that is good. If I can get them to eventually cover part of the year then that will be even less mowing to do. In our yard we are experiencing a sort of infestation of ticks. Walking out to the far end of the yard to take this picture and I returned to find a deer tick crawling up my leg. My son is up to 16 ticks this season. We have so much wildlife trooping through the wood and into the yard so there are many potential carriers and that isn't even considering deer.

So what to do? The idea of blasting the yard with poison and killing every living thing, seems a little extreme. Plus I like to walk barefoot. There are some organic options but they are very tedious and have to be reapplied. Seems more like fighting the tide. And then there is the chicken option which some friends have used. They seem to have their yard under control, but that seem like too much work and then there are the animals that would love to get a hold of the chickens.

So I guess I'll start by cutting the grass a little shorter and use the organic stuff around the edges and see how that goes. One of the good things about a harsh winter is that many of these bugs get weeded out. But things have been relatively mild for the past few years.

Ah, this challenges of living near the woods. I'll still take it over the city.

At work this morning I ran into a colleague in the bathroom and in one of those 30 second conversations he mentioned, “your big season is starting soon”! I had to pause for a moment before I responded with a nod and sort of a blank ah huh. It was only when in the next sentence that he said "we will be out in your neck of the woods next weekend", that it registered. Tourist season and he is a big Tanglewood fan.

It has been so busy with graduation and end of the year school and work and other activities of life that quite honestly I might totally miss tourist season. There are clearly more people around mostly from the city and some are on the arrogant and demanding side but fortunately they are in the minority I just blow them off. But I guess the busy season has less to do with the tourists as it does with it being summer in this beautiful place.

On the night of a Tanglewood concert I have to remember to hop on the back roads to get home from work or I'll get stuck in the line of cars going basically the same way as me, but we hold the secret of familiarity with where to go and not go and travel the near vacant roads. Then there is remembering that getting to the library in the center of town is difficult on Saturday afternoon because the boutique shoppers are out and especially if there is a crafts fair in the park then parking is sparse. And of course I have two kids who have jobs connected with tourism, so thank you. And there are more cultural offerings if you have the time and money to partake.



But for me the busy season is what this person would call "life" at home. Having a big yard is beautiful except when you have a push mower and it needs mowing every week, avoiding these beautiful daisies that are spreading in the yard.[not complaining, just speaking fact], the house needs painting more often because of the winter winds and weather that rush up the beautiful mountain valley. The deer ticks are out in strong force this year, catching rides on the turkeys and other wild life that are frequently traveling through the yard day and night. The ridge line takes on different look in the morning mists and against the hayfield and wet lands.



Summer in the Berkshires is like summer in so many other places. I guess the difference is that we have some very special "outdoors" and a slightly colder temperature. Sure there is the BSO across town and Shakespeare and Company and other theater productions a couple miles away, but this is also home and as with all folks who live in tourist areas we have every day chores and things to do, just like the folks who come here to enjoy.

How many false starts does it take to make a post? Depends on the moment, depends on the mood, depends on lots of things. I have several posts that started out fine but couldn't fine an end. I kept adding and adding until it became like a blender out of control. Ideas flying everywhere, I mess that was a challenge to figure out where to start to clean it up. So one of the wonderful things about blog-land is the ability to just let a post linger in "draft-status" until the mood comes back or maybe not.

There is a saying that still waters run deep and I frequently return to that phrase to understand it and to understand me. Like most people I can be a plate full of contradictions. I can be someone who frets over the simplest of things or apparent slight, who can be luck the character in the Peanut's strip who wears the worry blanket and can lay out every possibility of what can go wrong and remember what did.



Then there is the almost opposite, complete calm and reason. Articulate and measured tones and a total stillness and calm that radiates from within. At times be a most disorganized sort with piles and lists and multiple projects going; but there are the times when my focus is like a laser and it even freaks out my kids when they see this organized driven side.

At this time I am in one of the contradictory states. Exhausted for many reasons and not all that are obvious; pensive about the transitions of time; confused by the lack clarity and inconsistency by others. The calm that I have always relied on is still very much there, anchoring, perhaps holding back, protecting. While on the surface there is this churning - the blender of sorts. Not that messy but weighing just the same.

So that is where this post ends. Very much like life goes on. Some things stay consistent, others drop away. New things and challenges come up, while others seem to resolve themselves over time.

I have been in this sort of funk the past dew days. Too many things going on, too much to be focused on and a push to be focused.

We realize that as our oldest ends high school and moves on to a new wonderful part of his life that we are mourning the loss of connections that we have had with so many wonderful people and kids the past few years. No matter how we try we can not be as part of this next part of his life as we have been. Not in a clinging overprotective parent way but as being so closely connected with the life of someone you really like as a person and his wonderful friends. That makes me sad. Probably not so often expressed from the dad perspective but I expect I am not alone.

So this picture is of these beautiful irises, taken in the dark. For decades these flowers bloomed in my mom's garden and I also realized that today is the day she died.

Beauty surrounded by darkness.

Memorial Day parade in Stockbridge. Starts at on end of Street and ends about a half a mule down the same street. As this area has a regional school district the high school band gets on a bus at 8:30 AM and gets to 4 different town parades of about the same length. By 1:00pm they're done. Definitely small town and one of the charming aspects.

















Mounted on a tree in downtown Stockbridge. I wonder how many people just walk by and never notice it? I sometimes get accused of not paying attention but usually its because I am paying attention to just about everything going on, which can be a little distracting. But I usually don't miss much.






















The view of Monument Mountain from the lawn of Tanglewood (looking south). This past weekend I happened to see this mountain from three different directions. The face of the mountain is white granite which can be seen quite clearly when you are at its base and looking north and at sunrise you can see it looking southeast. One of the prettier views around.

Why is one a flower and the other a weed

I haven't had much time for writing but of course there is always time for contemplation. Between a 90 mile round trip commute to work or the 3 hours it takes to move the push mover around a rather large yard and a few car trips into Boston for meetings, the opportunity is there and it is amazing where the mind will go.

The phrase beauty is in the eye of the beholder is so true with what is around us in nature. What is considered beautiful in the woods is considered a weed when it is found in the yard.For some the perfectly manicured weed free green yard is absolutely beautiful and the only thing that the scatterings of violets and dandelions and wild thyme bring to mind is the need for weedkiller.



While weed killer rarely makes it near our yard, because we are barefoot so much, it doesn't mean that there isn't an occasional lively discussion about loosing total control of the yard. We are talking lawns here, not gardens, as weeding the latter is practical as well as aesthetic.

There are plenty of movie or TV comedy scenes about someone pulling up bunches of flowers when weeding a garden. The confusion reigns, especially before flowers appear and among personal tastes and cultures.


We have had a few "flowers" that are really invasive and even though they are no longer in the garden they are infiltrating the yard and other beds. So have they moved from the flower column to the weed column?

I love the smell of wild thyme as I step over it, I have been mowing around several bunches of wild daisies that have sprouted up around the back yard in sort of a mowing ballet, I gaze at the pretty violets and think, I would leave them alone if it wasn't for the pesky grass that is growing up in the middle and looks shaggy.

So theses are the kinds of ramblings I do when I am mowing the lawn. After it is done the grass is neat, the dandelions cut and from a distance it looks as nice as the neighbor and its done.

A couple of days ago I walked out the end of the driveway to pick up the newspaper and this is the view that greeted me. Just had to go back for the camera.