Strange problems seem to beset every day, no matter how organized we think we are…

We pull in where the road dead-ends…

My town is many things to many people …

A work of art, or the windshield of a truck, depending which way you look at it…

I’ve rambled lately, without much inspiration or success…

It began to hail mid-afternoon, tiny ice chunks bouncing off the truck bed, but still no real deluge, so I continued working…

It’s dark as I write this…

The woods roads are clogged with debris, and so the mind walks its rounds upon what has fallen away…

Entering the village at twilight, I noticed an abnormal number of cars around the green, and muffled groups of oddly garbed pedestrians,both small & large, weaving and bobbing, at road's edge…

"What's that?" she says, and I stop my digging, trying to filter out the balmy breeze, as I strain to hear…

I awake during the first snow, opening my eyes at dawn to white sludge on my skylight…

Tammy showed up with her tractor about noon, roaring up the slope, with a bucket ready to work...

There's a detour on the main river road, so finding my way home after a trip to town offers up choices, and since one of my tires is compromised...

So we drop out of the sky & spring into life...

The day was cloudy & cool: a respite from recent sweat shop conditions not necessarily normal for late September, but not unheard of…

What is left of summer? ...

Life is full of chaos....

If you could pick any place besides your usual, to have a beer, and sit in chairs & watch the moon rise, it would be this...

The love of flowering, in all its phases, is a miracle I feel honored to behold...

Many a summer cookout has been caught mid-swing this August, in dollops of rain...