The sixth day of the fifth month of the year of Emergence

Fifty one degrees this morning, which is unusually cool for this time of year here in Shangra La.

Choices today, as the Pikes Place Roast starts to work it's magic. 

Memories of things gone by are the first intrusion into what my mind should legitimately be doing elsewhere.  This image was made on the shore of a body of water called the Chester River.  It lies on the eastern shore of Maryland's Chesapeake bay.  This particular spot is the product of a two mile walk on a trail called "Duck In".  The Duck In trail is in the Eastern Neck National Wildlife Refuge.  A great place in the fall to watch migrating ducks, geese, and swan.  This image has be digitally enhanced by eliminating the original color and creating a sepia tone.  By doing this, the scene seems to approximate my fantasy about what the place looked like sixty years ago.  That was when my father took my sister, mother, and I out there to look for eagles.  I think there were two resident birds within the whole refuge.  Now they are prolific.

Of course sixty years ago wasn't ancient.  There was a time that I thought 1900 was ancient and anything before that was in the realm of the pyramids.  But I do remember those Saturday evening drives from our little community of Gratitude,  through Rock Hall, and down the only road to the refuge.  The excitement we kids experienced as we entered, what felt at the time, to be at least the old wild west or at most the darkest of Africa.

  This was back in a time were family's actually "Went for Rides" as a source of entertainment.  Our parents would point out things which became educational even though we didn't know it at the time.  A hawk or turkey buzzard floating magically on air currents we could only see because they were floating on air currents.  Swans in the wild, which viewed at our tender age were just awesome.  We had only seen them in small city parks that smelled --- well, like small city parks.  Here were thousands rafting on the bay and flying overhead.  Who knew a swan could fly anyway?  A raccoon running through the headlights or for that matter the much more occasional white tail deer.  My father would spot an eagle and we would scramble for the side of the car to see it.  This would be the only violation of crossing the center line of the back seat into "My space".  "There see it, now get back on your side"  "eeeeeeeuuuuu!"

"Daddy he poked me"  Then the long right arm would make that swing from the front seat drivers side, sweeping the air around us in an awkward ark across the back seat.  It was supposed to be a slap at both of us, but always just turned into an airball.  All the time my mother, riding shotgun and smoking her Chesterfields would simply say "you kids just settle down now".

Bless em.  I miss them both!