Skip Willits Fine Art Photography

THE SECOND OF THE SECOND OF TWELVE

2012-02-02T06:08:00.000-08:00

Still beach time!

It is my intent to write about a number of the East Coast beaches I have visited. Sort of a trip down the back alleys of my summer time brain.

We did get some rain overnight and it's supposed to rain most of today. What a better day to go to the beach?

Worked in the yard most of yesterday and it was like what I would call a late spring day. In fact took my shirt off to catch some rays. Just about gave the widow lady down the street a heart attack, but it felt good to get the exercise and dream about being in my teens again. She'll get over it.

One of my favorite beaches on the east coast is in Virginia. No, not Virginia or "Ginny" beach, but those wilds of Assateague Island on Virginia's Eastern Shore. Specifically the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. For wildlife photography, this is one of the greatest places on the east coast to visit.

There are of course the wild ponies which attract thousands of people each year.

But the refuge is also home to millions of migratory birds as well as resident critters, which for the most part are not camera shy. You can find the usual cast of characters sloshing through the marshes, such as blue herons, mute swans and snowy egrets. But it is the beach of which I write today.

As on most of the barrier islands along the East Coast, erosion is a constant threat and here the problem is severe. Therefore, the requisite storm fencing which hopefully hold the dunes together and the ocean back. Storms, primarily north easters are the biggest dangers to the real estate.

Of course they can be beautiful.

Like on many beaches, replenishing the sand is an annual thing. Sad really, but then again it's nature folks. A new bridge from the mainland at the town of Chincoteague makes access to the island very much easier, but I fear that the crowds may change the area completely. We'll just have to wait and see.

THE FIRST OF THE SECOND

2012-02-01T06:53:00.000-08:00

I give up!

It was pushing 80 here yesterday and no sign of anything winter in central South Carolina.

I thought all the hot air in the state would automatically leave when the republican primary moved to Florida, but I guess not.

So the only thing to do is think of the beach. Places I would like to be right now. North of here the beaches are "Off season" and that is my time. No people, good sky for the most part and great photo ops.

This place is a gem!

Cape Henlopen State Park in Delaware. Yup, lower slower Delaware to quote a friend of mine. This is the Bay side of the spit of land which is mostly scrub brush and sand. There are two lighthouses here, a lot of walking trails and just good old fashioned nice scenery. The place is not hard to find on a map and withing driving distance of most Maryland and Delaware cities. Even a big time ferry ride is available between Lewis, DE and Cape May, NJ.

The ocean side of the park sports some pretty impressive dunes and enough beach to handle the summer crowds. But in the fall through the spring it's, for the most part, just the gulls and occasional beach nut like me out there. If either one of these images really grabs you, they can be purchased on my FFA site which is advertised on this blog to the excess. Enjoy!

The 29th day of the first

2012-01-29T12:04:00.000-08:00

NEW STUFF ALL THE TIME!

If you gotten this far, you've noticed that I have added a slide show. Whoooopeeeeeeee! That ought to keep you here at least a good thirty seconds or so. If you place your cursor on a photo in the slide show and click it should take you to FAA for that photo. God, I love things I can't understand. Oh and did I say I also love spellcheck....I don't understand that either.

Also added a couple of crass commercial advertising links here on the right side for what has become my primary retail sight, Fine Art America. There you can find all my good stuff for sale any way you want it.

Also please check the art contests there. Because they are fun. AND there is a lot of fine art entered in those contests. And you can vote, participate and even be entertained. Some 67,000 artists are on board. It's hard to stand out because the quality of the art and the presentation of the final product is so good.

So far, I have won.....WON. Won, I say....four contest this year. That's first place for those of you who don't understand. So I'm no lightweight. He says with tongue in cheek and in the style of Mohamed Ali............"I am the greatest".

If you haven't read this blog before...I am kidding, do have a bit of sarcastic humor in me somewhere, and welcome aboard. Tell your friends! If you've been around this site before, just smile 'cause you know that's just the way I am.

Oh, and I am a capitalist so buy and get over it!

There will be a prize for anyone who can stay on this blog longer than thirty seconds and is able to prove it.

The 27th day of the first

2012-01-27T09:28:00.000-08:00

EAST BRANCH IN THE NORTH

As some of my readers will remember, for some forty years five of us went to NH fishing in the spring. Well, the spring of our lives are over and the fall has set in and the trip is now a pleasant memory.

That having said, the memories I have made on film are still in the can so to speak. The snow and the ice has set in on the big lake in the past two weeks. Lake Winnepasaukee that is. I just posted an image on FAA showing a wild river in the White Mountains along the Kancamangus Highway.

Kancamangus is hard to pronounce, but try the East Branch of the Pemigewasset River. That's a mouthful and I still have to look up the spelling every time I write about it or title a photograph.

I remember the day well. It was pretty bad fishing all week on the big lake and we all looked for something else to do and take a break to get off the water. I decided to take a ride with the cameras and venture up through the mountains.

Route 112 or the Kancamangus runs west from Conway, New Hampshire to Lincoln which is on Interstate 93 almost on the border with Vermont. The road travels through many elevations and that day was cool at the lake but snowing and icing in the mountains. This image was at a lower level where rain, fog and mist made photographing all the better.

There were some clear spots where the mist and fog didn't penetrate. This little stream reminds one of what the wilderness must have looked like a hundred years ago. The water looks as though you could just take a glass full and have a long drink.

At another time this is one of my favorite hidden ponds. Not even sure today the name of the pond, might have been the Greeley Ponds area, but the walk in was a couple of miles through big woods. Crystal clear and all alone.

Same feeling here. And the ride across the state leads you to such places as Crawford Notch, Loon Mountain, Lincoln and Swiftwater. What a neat place! What great names for places. Next time maybe I can get further north to places with names like Magalloway Mountain or Lake Umbagog.

Jan. 26, 2012

2012-01-26T09:23:00.000-08:00

Bittersweet!

We lost one of our followers and a best friend this morning. It is always bitter two lose someone who has been a part of your life for over 40 years, but sweet knowing that we celebrate her life in our memories.

Rest in Peace and God bless the family.

THE 23RD OF THE FIRST

2012-01-23T05:48:00.000-08:00

I GUESS I WILL JUST NEVER UNDERSTAND

God has a plan. He has never really shared it with me personally, but I guess that's coming.

Personally, I have enough stupid in me to make some pretty serious mistakes in this life. Just enough smarts to know better, but not enough common sense to make the difference work. At least to the level that I thought it should.

We all know that He is always there overlooking that which he made in his own image, but sometimes I gotta wonder why I often never see it.

People who have done wondrous things in life pass away too quickly although they have lived a long and meaningful life. And yet there seem to be sufficient haters out there that would publicly damn them them to purgatory.

On the other hand.....

There are those who seem destined to suffer prematurely for long periods of time, waiting till the body finally gives up. Nice people who have caused more good in this life with just a simple "Hello how are ya"? And it is amazing to me the amount of beating the body can take before they slip back into God's hands. And why the suffering? Or is that just part of the healing process for those of us who love and remain? I guess so.

And then there are the Evil, who just seem to hang on forever. What's up with that?

Suffice to say, I guess that we all just have to wait to find out the "What" and must just let go of the "Why".

The 19th of the 1st

2012-01-19T06:42:00.000-08:00

PHOTOGRAPH BANNED AT BWI

I guess the airport is now called the Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport just to be totally, politically correct. It's in Maryland which right there is enough of an explanation about "Political correctness". It used to be called simply BWI. Then they had to change it to assuage some group just to show the rest of us how ignorant we were and how good they were. Which of course is what PC is all about....the elite telling we, the less elite, what it's all about to be elite.

Confused? Don't be it is all part of some diabolical long term plan on the part of somebody up there on the ladder to somebody else's success or perception thereof. Called self aggrandizement! But I'm not cynical.

I have written here in the past about how commercial fisherman on the Chesapeake Bay are, for the most part, called "Watermen". Still are, and have been for generations. In fact, the first waterman was probably a native American who picked up an oyster along the shore and traded it to one of the invading evil white men from Europe for three beads and a hank of red cloth. But that is another story altogether.

Watermen fish the bay all year round despite the weather. The fish for anything that can be sold to the buyers and in turn the general public. Eels go to Europe. Crabs and oyster are shipped all over the country, as are the fish fish caught. Catfish go to catfish ponds in the Midwest and south and strippers go on my plate. That is when I can get the wild kind. Soft shell clams are shipped to New England for processing into clam "Chodaw". The clams are probably the largest portion of the seafood harvest in the Chesapeake. At least dollar wise.

The watermen spend thousands of dollars on boats and clam rigs jut to maintain a fiercely independent lifestyle.

The work from early dawn to about mid afternoon, generally about a 12 hour day on the water and another five or six at port cleaning and maintaining equipment. Not a ride in the park as job descriptions go. And you gotta make a living in the winter as well.

Tough to get out of port just to work all day in freezing weather.

And the commute is a little hairy at times as well.

After all that preamble. Yes, one of my photographs has been officially banned at BWI airport. A few year back, I submitted an image to the add agency in New York that was redecorating the ticket area in the airport. They chose one of my prints and with the aid of mirrors and other trickery made it into a 4 foot by 16 foot mural. It looked good and was nice money.

However!

One lady wrote a letter of complaint to the authorities at the airport claiming that my photo was obscene. One person mind you. Being politically correct, it had to come down, and down it came. I had to replace it with some sunset scene of a marina. I wanted a press release....which I didn't get. Knew I wouldn't but also knew it was fun to tweak them. This was the image, now remember 4x16 feet of something that was the biggest commercial dollar harvest on the bay.

My only reaction to all of this was my comment to the ad agency ..... "Well, obviously that lady has never seen an aroused clam"!

The 18th of the first

2012-01-18T05:55:00.000-08:00

Minding the Roots at Tavern Creek - 18

CRAB, CRABS, BACK FIN, BLUE CRAB.....DELICACY!

OK, I haven't even finished my first Pikes Place cup of caffeine and I am thinking of something to eat. Something I haven't had in a long while. At this hour of the morning why do I think of steamed crabs. Lord knows and he ain't talking, but that's where I'm at.

We used to take the little wooden boat and search the flats around the mouth of the Tavern or take a half hour ride south to the flats at Eastern Neck Island on the mouth of the Chester River. Two ideal spots to wade the shallow with a dip net. We'd tie a bushel basket to our waist and put it in an old inner tube and drag this arrangement around to hold the crusty crustaceans that were unlucky enough to succumb to our efforts.

All we had to do was to jump of the boat and wade with the dip net just grazing the sandy bottom of the bay and disturb the crabs hiding in the grasses. What fun. Bare feet would encounter all sorts of debris which could cut normal feet. But ours of course were well callused by normal daily use. We would remove our shoes as soon as it got warm in the spring and not put them on till we got new ones for school in the fall.

Often when a hard crab (that's what we called them) would get up and run before us, it would be holding on to a buster (a crab losing its shell which they do in order to grow a new one) or a soft crab (one that has lost it's shell). Buster and soft crabs were premium crabs to us. Both made great bait used to fish for the wonderful strippers and other fish we caught. Soft shell were a dining delicacy tho.

For us, and we were kids, the wholesale pricing of the crabs was the important part. Soft shell crabs commanded the highest price at the market, busters next and finally hard crabs. No we had no license the the fish house just looked the other way when we showed up looking like starving little urchins trying to feed our families. But that was the way it was growing up. A bushel of crabs could grub stake us for a week. What fun!

The 17th of the first

2012-01-17T07:04:00.000-08:00

Certainly not a paid advertisement!

I have been spending most of my time on Fine Art America and creating some of the best results I have found for selling art on the web in the last ten years. A friend of mine asked my opinion them other day and I hope he joins me and the other 89,000 or so artists trying to sell something there.

http://skip-willits.artistwebsites.com/

Here is a portion of my response to him.

"Hey and how u doin? As they say say on the "Jersey Shore". The FAA site it a wonder to me. I have been trying to establish something on line for years. Mostly to no avail. This site however is the best I have found. Means, yep I actually sell some stuff. Have won two contests this month, and Saturday had over 400 hits alone. But there's 89,000 artists on the site.......so it's hard to compete. And they take about two months to pay. But if you can get a flow going, then that's ok. My fear is that some major framing company will buy them out and mess it all up. But while it's working is ok.

Jeff, I have had my own websites, my own contributions to web sites for years and nothing has worked. It's all about getting your face out there or name that is. I saw one guy who sold 30 something prints of one image in one day from this site. But he is an accomplished artist well and beyond the web stuff. I have a Facebook page as you know, a Twitter page, and a Stumble upon page. A this page and a that page. Key words, key titles, key paragraphs, key blog and all that stuff. They all have to be worked on a daily basis. I took the day off on Sunday and had only 50 hits. I write a blog as well and try to keep that fresh each day or three and that is work. I have no idea how those that write for a living produce the stuff they do. It's like the duck carvers, how do they do that stuff anyway....lol.

The beauty here is that we don't have to carry an inventory. They do it all and of course in addition to charging us a fee, both annual (tiny) and per piece (is ok), they charge the buyer for the matting and framing. We get a little piece of that too, charged back. You will need a paypal account to make the money work but that ok as long as you don't maintain a huge balance that some hacker in his mother's basement can steal. I dont' participate in their chat rooms or blogs (no time) but the contests are easy and great exposure. Every time I do something on FAA, I also hit it FB and twitter. You can automatically hook up each listing with your facebook page, so that is very easy. I do, and this is the golden rule, contact people who leave comments, kudos, and the like. As well as the buyers. I try to keep it all personal as possible.

I never make a bad comment about anyone even though some of the people on any sight need to put down others in the misguided thought that it somehow elevates themselves. I just delete them and go on. They have no significance to me. I am not online to massage my ego. 21 years showing at the Easton Waterfowl Festival took care of any delusional, self engrandisement I might have entertained. I retired there last year and understand but heard it wasn't so good anyway. I am doing no more art shows. It started out as not doing any outside shows, but then was easy to say screw it and try to do it all sitting on my butt at the computer."

This is one of my contest entrants and is a totally different topic for me. Kinda fun to see how it competes.

Now I find that this too is work. Funny about that there still seems to be no free lunch out there. So to all my photographer friends who think that they have the next "Mad Bluebird", take a look at this site. By the way, the Mad Bluebird image made in excess of two million way before the internet.

Work it and you just may end up selling a lot more stuff that you expected.

OK, spell check isn't working so you'll just have to deal with it today.

Here is another fun site with good work I encountered on Twitter, so take a look.

http://wildlifeencounters.photoshelter.com/

The 16th day of the first

2012-01-16T08:08:00.000-08:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK - 17

The ground seven or eight miles inshore, that would be east, of Gratitude is primarily farmland, marsh, and hardwoods.

For background to terminology and places, dear reader, you must go back to earlier posts. Gratitude is on Swan Creek and just a skipping stones throw east of the Tavern. All of this is on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Eastern Shore that is, of the Chesapeake Bay. It's called the "Shore" for the uninitiated

The farmland is devoted mostly to corn and soybeans, with a little winter wheat thrown in to feed the geese in the early spring. In fact most farmers leave some corn stand each winter, just to feed the geese and deer. The ground that is not farmland is mostly there for the wildlife. Geese, ducks, songbirds, deer, rabbits and raccoons mostly. And of course those suburban invaders along the water called new developers.

As a photographer, it is the hardwoods and marsh that have most interested most me in the past.

Early morning seems to emote the most curiosity. Things are waking up to a new day. The sun moving through the hardwoods is waking up a new day and God's warmth begins to take over the night's chill. An early fog is dissipated. Shapes in the marsh begin to take form as the light of the magic hour gradually develops. Ducks are on the move through the marsh in seek of food. Geese and swan are flying from open water to the fields of grain for breakfast. Nocturnal critters are in search of a place to sleep during the daylight hours. And the "Krank, krank" of a blue heron distrubed from his haunts resounds through the submerged grasses. The slap of a beaver's tail announces that he is on the move.

Another day begins.

The 15th of the 1st month.

2012-01-15T05:28:00.000-08:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-16

~

"RETURNING TO THE ROOTS"

It's something about the journey. Not the result, which we have known all along but choose to ignore!

It's something about the way we compose that journey. Whether we know it or not.

That's what we do...Compose!

And we have help! And always will!

It's something about the impact we have. Even if we aren't particularly trying!

It's something about the impressions we make. Even when impressing is not the objective!

It's something about being true to ourselves. Even when everyone around us is being otherwise!

It's something about being there for others. Even when it's not popular!

It's something about friendship. Sometimes it's hard...but when it's true, it's not!

It's something about love. Not easy, but always there!

It's something simply about returning......

With our heads held high, still ready to kick butt and take names!

Because that's... the way...we do it!

The 13th day of the first

2012-01-13T10:50:00.000-08:00

GAZEBO SUNSET

I have said it many times....what a blessing to be a photographer. We can always revisit a spot, a mood, an event, old friends through reflection, and a reinforcement of the reason we are all here.

I am always a sucker for sites with great names....."Toad Hollow" Well alright! And great photography too.

http://www.toadhollowphotography.com/

The 12th day of the first month

2012-01-12T13:32:00.000-08:00

OF CAMERAS AND ANCHORS

Well all the politicians, hangers ons, promoters, liars, and whatever left New Hampshire just in time yesterday.

New Hampshire is doing what it does best at this time of year, other than primaries that is,........Snowing. Here is a cam shot of the big lake, Winnepasaukee just a few minutes ago.

Proof that the rascals all left the state either yesterday morning or the night before can be seen here at a Mitt rally, with Gov. Niki Halley and hisself last night in Columbia, SC.

Oh I know you will all call me one of those right wing, bible reading, gun toting whackos just for attending. Well, I don't have thousands or rounds of ammunition, maybe a couple of hundred, but I did want to see what a political rally was all about. Never been to one before. Took about two and a half hours and he talked for maybe ten minutes. Kinda fun people watching.

This is the "Anchor" part of the title. I think there were almost more media than normal people. Not that cameramen aren't normal, but I would like to have had 1% of the value of all the cameras in the room. Not to mention the print media at a long table with their laptops. Ice tea was served, nobody asked for a donation, and the occupiers were someplace else doing whatever it is they do. All I can say is the man has a nice firm handshake.

Oh, and we went over 10,000 page views on the blog today. First time, let's shoot for double that in 12. Thanks everyone!

The 11th of the first

2012-01-11T09:10:00.000-08:00

PEMAQUID

This is just for fun. I love sepia and I love good color. So why not? The original of course is in full color displaying the reflection pool on the rocks below the light. A little tom foolery in photoshop and here you go!

This is of course Pemaquid Point Lighthouse in Maine. I must admit that I was looking for the reflection pool when I first arrived and didn't even have to haul water to fill the thing. I guess that the tides take care of that. This is a spectacular place to visit and is the epidemy of the term "Rocky coast of Maine".

Pines, rock, and ocean are the classic location for a lighthouse such as Pemaquid Point. John Quincy Adams commissioned the original light and dwellings in 1827. The rock outcroppings offer visitors a chance to sit and watch the ocean and dream about the hard life the keepers endured to protect the early mariners from desolate outcroppings such as this. High tides leave pockets of water from which reflections can be seen.

An interesting aspect of the conical tower was the way they capped it just below the light room. A large circular slab of soapstone was laid on top of the tower and a large hole was cut in the center to allow access to the light itself. The original tower had problems and had to be rebuilt in 1835 and is the one we see today. For a photographer, one of the problems in shooting such tourist destinations is just that. Too many people to get a clear shot. Just to the right of this image as a young lady reading a book and an instant before I took the picture someone had just gone in the door of the keeper's house. Just got to wait it out.

Here's a link to a gallery in New Mexico with some interesting artists listed.

http://www.waxlander.com/artists-santa-fe-art-gallery

The tenth day of the first month

2012-01-10T06:03:00.000-08:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-15

While the little fourteen footer was not enough boat to get us down below the Bay Bridge from Gratitude, as the years past the boats got larger and my childhood drive to roam sparked visits to exotic places like Annapolis, Maryland. If this sentence is confusing, you must go back to last year's entries regarding "Tavern Creek", my childhood, and a little boat.

Recently I have been using some sepia tones for a few of the lighthouse images I have made over the years. More regression to my childhood perhaps. But this way, when they repaint them a different color .... no one will know. Lazy huh? But sepia, to me, represents a time gone by which is what the functionality of the lights has become. A tourist destination now and not so much a maritime necessity. But then that's progress. Or maybe it isn't. Even as a day mark, these lights lend a certain sense of relief to the mariner. I've been there and it's true. And the lights are still a special part of the maritime history in most countries.

THOMAS POINT SHOAL LIGHTHOUSE

The only screw pile lighthouse left in Chesapeake Bay waters is the Thomas Point Shoal Lighthouse, built on November 20, 1875. This in fact may be the only screw pile platform for an octagonal house left in the water. Thomas Point was also the last manned lighthouse on the Chesapeake Bay, and is on the National Register of Historic Places. The light is located off the mouth of the South River at Annapolis, Maryland.

The original light at this location was built on a seven-acre parcel of land on Thomas Point. The land was sold to the government for $530 in 1824, and the following year the first light was built by John Donohoo on that point of land. This was the first lighthouse constructed by Donohoo, who went on to build several more around the bay including Concord Point at Havre De Grace. This first light was doomed because of Donohoo’s relative inexperience and by 1838, it had to be rebuilt. The total cost of the original light surpassed $5,600.

Remember to click on the photos for better resolutions.

In 1882 it became apparent to the Lighthouse Board that the light, in its original location, was of little use because it was so removed from the expanding shoal. A new and less expensive screw pile light was constructed and remains today. The "Screws" were twisted into the bottom of the bay or river and a platform was constructed to hold the keeper's house and light tower. The land on the point where the original house was built was sold to private interests for $426, one hundred dollars less than the original purchase price. While this type of construction was deemed less expensive in the short run.....in the long run it was more costly because annual ice flows would cut the spindly legs and virtually dismember the entire structure. This one has been protected by the rip rap (stones) around the base and has lasted all these years.

Here is the wikipedia link for the lighthouse.

http://en.wikipedia.o/rg/wiki/Thomas_Point_Shoal_Light

And some interesting photography at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/violinconcertono3/

The ninth of the first

2012-01-09T07:01:00.000-08:00

THE SONG OF THE OLD HOBO

The clack, clack, clack of a train of railroad cars going over a bridge is an early morning fog holds for some the same feeling as the call of a loon across a lonely northern lake.

The whine of a train whistle approaching a crossing can stir an inner feeling of loneliness perhaps. Or optimistic pessimism. Maybe it's pessimistic optimism. Conjure!

A foggy morning can elicit those types of feelings. Even with nothing else going on other than the sound of perpetual rusting of the metal in the bridge.

Can we actually hear the deterioration of that metal if we stop long enough to let the inner mind wander.

God it's often good to be a photographer, we can always go back there on a moment's notice.

By the way, do they still call them Hobos? Are have they lost all the romance and now just called homeless persons. It seems to me that there is a difference.

Oh and for you ladies, and maybe even for some of you weird men out there like me. Don't forget Aubrey's site.

http://www.high-heeledlove.com/2012/01/shoe-lust-saturday-1712.html

The 8th of the 1st

2012-01-08T09:55:00.000-08:00

Bath day is NOT fun!

Check out the BirdGal
http://networkedblogs.com/st1LY

The seventh of the first

2012-01-07T06:28:00.000-08:00

CAT TAILS

It's all in the perception!

Here's another great photography website.

http://www.lesleychalmers.com/#img-517_show

The sixth of the first

2012-01-06T04:56:00.000-08:00

Some new listings on FAA

http://skip-willits.artistwebsites.com/

In the general scenics section

Some interesting photographs at

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ashey84/

The fifth of the first

2012-01-05T06:17:00.000-08:00

Just felt a little patriotic this morning.

Just a reminder that we live in the greatest country in the world.

The fourth of the first

2012-01-04T07:00:00.000-08:00

Of course it's a bird feeder........Duh? Where else would a cat go?

Twenty two here this morning and feels like minus seven on the big lake in New Hampshire. Ice coming in soon up there. Here's a cam shot just for fun.

http://www.sunsetcliff.com/cam/01.jpg

THE THIRD OF THE FIRST

2012-01-03T07:51:00.000-08:00

It's ain't over till the garbage man cometh!

Does it all boil down to this?

A Christmas tree that once held all the inspiration and anticipation that a small child's mind could conjure.

Trash barrels full of left overs.

The seamier side of some wonderful memories of family, fun, good food and love.

Just wait for Valentine's day!

The 2nd of Jan 2012

2012-01-02T06:56:00.000-08:00

PREPARATION

The First of January 2012

2012-01-02T06:54:00.000-08:00

JUXTAPOSITION

1-1-12

THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR OR EMERGENCE

2011-12-31T06:17:00.000-08:00

Wishing you all the happiest and most prosperous of new years.

There were probably many, many times this past year when I may have disturbed you, troubled you, pestered you, irritated you, bugged you, or got on your nerves with all the e-mails, tags, postings and comments I've sent.

So today I just wanted to tell you.....................

Suck it up , "Cupcake"!!!

Cause there are no changes planned for 2012.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The 29th day of the 12th month

2011-12-29T09:03:00.000-08:00

IN ANTICIPATION OF AMATEUR NIGHT!

As an (Lucky) old drunk, I think that I have earned the right to caution my friends (I worked to hard to get them) and my family (whom I love beyond reason) about the excesses of New Year's Eve.

Please don't drink and drive!

The day after the night before!

2011-12-26T09:00:00.000-08:00

I am headed out to shop for wrapping paper for next Christmas!

She did wait for Christmas morning to open all the gifts.

Happy Birthday Jesus

2011-12-25T05:06:00.000-08:00

To all my friends and family I wish the fondest and merriest of Christmas's.

THE DAY BEFORE THE MORNING AFTER

2011-12-24T07:06:00.000-08:00

A Christmas card to all my friends and family.

How many times have you gotten that card in the mail from an old acquaintance or family member that you either see or hear from once a year. And then only because it has become ritual from some old mailing that we once maintained because it was on the "Christmas Card" list. I can remember my mother keeping "The list" and beware if you were banished from said list. I remember serious conversations about who was on and who was off and why.

God forbid that we get a card from someone who we'd forgotten or had not already sent one. I have one on my desk right now. That means adding a hand written note, using the last stamp in the house which is likely to be a "Snoopy" stamp or some other inappropriate cartoon. And having to face the mailman, to whom I have not given a Christmas gift.

Do they still do that? I remember my parents always, always remembered the postman and milk man on Christmas with five or ten bucks. Boy, that was different times. A delivery man actually dropped off the milk, eggs and butter every day. Placed it in a grey insulated box on the back step with "Bordens" stamped on it . If you needed something special you left a note in the box. Today, well that's their job..."What do they expect"? And now Christmas cards are mostly sent via e-mail, Facebook, or some blog that serves as a "One size fits all" greeting. Oooops!

And here's the biggy. When you get a one page letter of "This is what we and the kids did this past year," Christmas letter. This way they only have to send one letter or card per year. OK, Johny got all D's and an F this year. Sally, is running with the wrong crowd and got pregnant (She's 14 now), but we're going to raise the child ourselves (that will work with that track record). And little Georgie had his hair lip fixed. The husband lost his job and is flipping burgers at the local joint and momma thinks she might be in a family way too. But they had a great year and certainly wish you a similar one.

Or the alternative.

We had a so-so year....both kids are now in college (Ivy League you know), we wintered in the Bahamas, summer in the Hampton's, and skiing this past month at Vail. And you are working your A off trying to pay the mortgage. Sigh!

Someone would say that the above is the reality of Christmas. Oh I remember all that. Lived some of it. Laughed at the lines on Black Friday.

I Love my kids and grands and miss the hell out of them. And that makes this time of year very hard for me, but to all my friends and family ... A very Merry Christmas.

My annual Christmas letter to you will come, when it's supposed to, as we approach the new year. Because it's actually a summary of the year past and has little to do with Christmas.

Christmas is the celebration of the Birth of Christ. To one and all I wish you a happy season with family and pray that He ...

Sheds the light upon you and yours during the season and for the year to com.

The 21st day of the 12th month...time to start Christmas Shopping

2011-12-21T07:52:00.000-08:00

MURPHY WAS AN OPTIMIST!

Since I am the Vice President in charge of keeping the house presentable and somewhat clean, it is my duty to access Murphy's theories. You will remember Murphy, he said that "anything that can go wrong..will"!

Take vacuuming for instance. Not a real problem were the machine not attached to a long cord, which much like the hose outside is possessed by demons.

First the culprit responsible for most of the dust, dander, dog hair and downright dirt in the house refuses to move when approached with anything other than a cookie. See all those words start with the letter D..interesting, rhymes with dog..Sigh!

Why is it when you go from one room to another with the vacuum, and are in full speed ahead mode, the cord sticks somewhere?

And don't even go there with the cords under the computer table.

Just try to get anything straight down there. Even the vacuum doesn't want to get tangled up with that mess. And speaking of vacuums. They have an appetite. That's right, they seek nourishment of their own kind.

Those fringes of throw carpets.....like pasta to a vacuum. Right around the brush and that means stopping the machine. Bending over and untangling the fringe. Right after I have bent over to untangle the cord. After bending over and promising the dog a cookie.

Oh and did I mention?

At my age, bending over to do ANYTHING, is simply God's way of getting even! He does have a sense of humor after all.

The 20th of Dec.

2011-12-20T08:23:00.000-08:00

THE FROG STILL RULES!

http://fineartamerica.com/contests/frogs-and-more-frogs.html?tab=leaderboard

The 19th day of the 12th month of Emergence

2011-12-19T07:46:00.000-08:00

A little behind on this Christmas thing!

I have been having a bad time getting into the Christmas spirit this year. Let's see yesterday we got up to seventy somethin degrees, and only this morning did we reach down to the freezing mark. Oh, of course the decorations are up on the front door to welcome all to see. The tree is decorated in the front hall and the dogs have colorfull bandanas around their necks. Much to their wonderment and confusion I suppose. And the birds just don't care....afterall their brain is the size of a pea. What can you expect.... I, on the other hand, am supposed to have a brain somewhat larger than that. Therefore, I should be dancing around with visions of sugar plums and stuff. Well, ok maybe a sugar cooky or two. Got to have something to leave for Santa on the mantel. That reminds me, need to clean out the fireplace for his arrival and of course the first fire of the season if we ever get cold enough. And yes Virginia, I do still believe in Santa Clause. Tooth Fairy, not so sure, but Santa....oh yeah! You see there is a reason for Santa kids....it's called Jesus! So after you get through all that ribbon and wrapping paper, give pause to the real reason for the season. See, now I can get into the spirit a bit. Last year was a little easier cause Jesus gave us some Christmissy stuff to wonder at.

Have you ever noticed how quiet it is during a snow storm? Especially if the wind isn't blowing. Then some idiot comes along in his pick me up truck draging his kid behind on a sled and ruins it all. Particularly if the kid falls off, you know then the sirens, flashing lights and all...oh well!

This was a time exposure taken at 9:30 at night, and just amazed me what a digital camera can do. Of course if I had turned off the time exposure and used a flash that didn't have a great deal of power, then it was a little different.

A little less sepia and more black and white, but you can see the snow flakes. Now that out to get me into the season a little bit. But one of my favorite times during a snow storm is when it's all over and the sun comes out. It all just glistens. Thank you Lord!

Sigh. Well, I guess I just got to put on my wifebeater T-shirt and a pair of shorts and take a walk. Now where the heck did I put those sun glasses?

The 18th day of the 12th month of Emergence

2011-12-18T10:31:00.000-08:00

A couple of new listings on FAA

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/clauser-skip-willits.html

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/the-front-at-portland-head-skip-willits.html

The 14th day of the 12th month of Emergence

2011-12-14T06:30:00.000-08:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK - 14

There was a time when the only way to get around the Chesapeake Bay was by boat. There was no Bay Bridge at Annapolis or Virginia beach, nor were there mighty railroads that opened the bay's products to the incredible markets of Philadelphia, New York or points west. A lot of commerce went out of the port Baltimore as shown in this 1908 postcard.

Of course everything was directly related to the waster as shown in this 1920 card depicting a Cutter Drill at the Naval Academy in Annapolis.

Even vacations were taken via ship to beaches and resorts around the bay, such as in this Betterton Beach card of 1904.

And in 1905 there was an old wooden bridge spanning the mighty Chester at Chestertown.

All of those places were in the vicinity of the Tavern, but a log ride away in the little 14 footer. And those scenes were all about fifty years before my time. But the Eastern shore changes little over time and I guess that is part of the charm. After growing up on two creeks, the Tavern and Swan, I spent my adult life on the Chester River at Chestertown. It is a broad slow moving river for the most part. Still bordered by the old farms and mansions of the south. Large land holdings have held back the more crass (in my humble opinion) developments of modern life. There is still too little water in the world and too many people, but that's for another time.

The upper reaches of the Chester is littered with small docks and a variety of boats providing for work or recreation. Boat traffic is moderate to heavy on weekends and non existent during the week unless you are a waterman (commercial fisherman).

In the upper part of the River there are fewer working fishermen, but the sign is evident from time to time. Ofter you can see an old flat bottom bateau, http://fineartamerica.com/featured/bateau-skip-willits.html, or a deadrise working boat oystering in morning light, http://fineartamerica.com/featured/tongers-sunrise-skip-willits.html, or even my granddaughter's canoe http://fineartamerica.com/featured/elizabeths-canoe-skip-willits.html.

And occasionally you will see a Watermen's toolbox.

Finally

The river widens near it's juncture with the bay proper. Here the little boat could reach and still have enough fuel to make the return trip to the Tavern. Someone once said that most of our world is covered with water. Well in a little fourteen foot, plywood, boat it certainly seemed so. I have no idea how many miles we put on with that little boat so many years ago, but I know that the memories of those miles go on forever.

The 11th day of the 12th month of Emergence

2011-12-11T06:46:00.000-08:00

ANIMAL LOVERS PIZZA!

And you get to pick the crust!

There is of course still time till Christmas to get these images as gifts framed as you would like. A really customer friendly site for art lovers. Please check them out and pass them on to your friends.

I'm going to continue to bug you till you can't stand it anymore and buy something!

The tenth of the 12th of Emergence

2011-12-10T06:18:00.000-08:00

For all my Lighthouse friends.

A crass commercial self promotion!

If you don't see your favorite East Coast Lighthouse, email me and I will post it. And while your at the sites, please take a look at my other categories for sale. Yes, this stuff is for sale......Like for Christmas? And, there are about 20,000 other artists on the site, so if you can't find something....your destined to wait in line next year on Black Friday with the other couple of thousand poeple standing out in the cold.

Finally, please pass this blog on to your friends and followers. I really do need the business! As do the other 19,999 starving artists.

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/marshalls-point-lighthouse-maine-skip-willits.html

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/charleston-lights-skip-willits.html

THE ELEVENTH BIRTHDAY OF FRANCIS THE FIFTH

2011-12-09T06:10:00.000-08:00

This is "Francis the Fifth"

And Birthday wishes are in order!

Poor guy is saddled with a family name and is the fifth in line........that's why he's called "Ben"! Is why his father, "the fourth", is called Todd and why I, the third, is called "Skip". No, we're not ashamed of our family name...not by a long shot. It's just that a guy going through grade school, high school, and college with a name like Francis can be dangerous.........Kids can be rough. My father, the Junior, was called Fran and rose to be the president of a major corporation. Strangely enough Juniors father was called Paul, but his father was the first Francis. He was the sect. of agriculture for the State of Pennsylvania a hundred or so years ago. So most of the "Francis" people did good relatively speaking. Paul owned his own farm.

The "Fifth" is a pride and joy, like his sister and cousins, but the poor guy has been given the responsibility of carrying the family name forward....like Henry the Eighth?

We never know what we or our young spawn will turn out to be, but this one like his father,..... constructs. They both like to build things.....like Leggo robots, roads, bridges, and big buildings. Whether it be a new kind of target for his (gasp) BB gun or some computer intricacy that I will never understand, he actually likes to put things together, take them apart, re-invent them. And intense interest in what interests him and and healthy way of ignoring what doesn't interest him. Must get that from some old man I know.

If it has more than one moving part, it was made to be disassembled and reconstructed. A very intense guy....Who is Bill Gates, a Jeopardy question?

He hasn't taken it apart yet, but we have readjusted it and he is learning just how to use it. Great lessons in compensation in order to get the arrow into the right portion of the target. He's just being a boy and we love him to death.

Happy Birthday Ben!

The 8th day of the 12th month

2011-12-08T11:38:00.000-08:00

COMING AND GOING!

The first of our winter Camilias

And the last of the knockouts

The seventh day of the 12th month of Emergence

2011-12-07T03:36:00.000-08:00

QUIET THOUGHTS AND PIKE PLACE ROAST

My better half had foot surgery late last week and of course I am playing the good cop to her bad cop. Which means she gets to sleep most of the day and is awake at night. Ergo.....the Pike Place Roast this morning at five....Thank you Starbucks. I think that they must have figured out how to get more caffeine in that stuff without us all knowing. It certainly is additive.

The neighborhood had a thrill last Saturday night. I was standing at the kitchen window doing dishes like any good fifties wife, when the police showed up next door and up the street. Have you any idea how bright those lights are on top of squad cars? Of course I didn't take any pictures. I am just too nosey and was trying to and find out what was going on. Still not totally sure of the whole thing, but it seems there was some kind of drug bust a block over and people were running through back yards to get away.

I've got news for all the would be Jesse James out there in our community, I am protected by Smith and Wesson (38 hollow points), a chi-wa-wa, border collie, and two cockatiels.........so don't come runnin cause I know how to use those cockatiels.

OK, so it's way too early and I am giving too much information into my personal life of the moment and most of you could care less anyway. And anyway what's the point of the blog today anyhow.

Refill!

If you haven't notice Christmas is coming in some eighteen days or so. Well, if you hadn't noticed I can't blame you. After all, organizations are afoot to ban Christmas from the public celebration, if not Christianity all together. The government has become what the founders never imagined. Unemployment is at major depression levels. Congress is self centered and dysfunctional. White House leadership isn't. People wait days to get into a store to save 50% of some trinket and freeze to death in the process. So not so much you wouldn't miss the fact that the birth of our Lord is to be celebrated in a couple of weeks. Which brings up the point of the blog today.

Freedom!

Man that's a leap! But there is a photograph up there.

My first bicycle arrived on Christmas morning in a little bedroom town in central New Jersey when, I guess, I was in fifth or sixth grade. If I recall correctly it was not like the one posted here, but one of those English types with the skinny wheels, 648 gears, and brakes on the handle bars. You could actually pedal backwards and nothing would happen. That was a good thing when your pants cuff got caught in the chain.

But that bike represented a freedom that only a kid could appreciate. There would be no restrictive monthly payments for Beetles, Pontiacs, or Ford Explorers....just the freedom to get in the saddle, wind in the face, and explore. Hell, it was a big thing to go across town to see how the other half lived. And no parental or spousal restrictions.....weeeee!

We didn't have to worry about deficits, unemployment, people gathering in protest who never before felt the need. Other people gathering in protest for they know not what. And what now seems to we adults as an uncertain future for our children and grands.

It's no longer as simple as getting on the bike and pedaling up the hill just to see what's on the other side.

However, Christmas is coming and with that brings the renewed need for tightening of family ties. Yes, the bike was great and the gift from Santa (all big gifts were from Santa) lasted for many years. But the memories of my parents and sister, grands, uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews, friends, pulling together to celebrate, was really the core of the season for us. Now it's my own kids and grands that are so important. And the recognition of the "Reason for the season"...to quote what is becoming a cliche. We were never overly religious growing up, but my parents made sure that we knew why we celebrated...We didn't need to be seen on Sunday to believe in God!

I saw a five year old on TV the other night. She was asked about Christmas and what she liked about it. "I get presents" She smiled. A beautiful child with a beautiful smile. Do you know why we celebrate........."No". Her parents had the freedom to teach her and wasted that freedom. Pull them together folks, hold them close, and whatever you do .... teach them what we are all about so that they can ride over that hill just to see what's over there. We don't want them running through some stranger's back yard just to get their freedom.

The Fifth day of the twelveth month of the year of Emergence

2011-12-05T06:22:00.000-08:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK---13

The little 14 foot plywood run-about was a fine ship. But not large enough to make all the trips on the Chesapeake that I would, as a sixteen year old, have liked. Sure it was enough of a craft to manage the Tavern or the Swan and even the mighty Chester. But to make meaningful trips south past the Bay Bridge at Annapolis or north up to the Susquehanna Flats at Havre de Grace.....not so much. Each year she had to have vast numbers of brass screws replaced in her hull before she was put in the water so the wood could swell and seal the small cracks that the annual paint job didn't fill.

I just finished reading Bill O'Reilly's new book "Killing Lincoln", and in it he talks about some of the people who took part in the killing conspiracy as having been held in a prison on Point Lookout in Maryland. You know O'rielly, he's the one that is always right and nobody wants to admit it. It brought back a number of memories. I did some copy work for an art collector in Chestertown a few years back and he allowed me to keep a copy of the old fort down there.

That would be the Chesapeake Bay on the right and the Potomac on the left. Today the road runs through the middle of the point and the whole place is supposed to be haunted, including the lighthouse.

Now you can say all you want about believing in ghosts, but that's alot of people to die in one place and ..... just sayin.....what are the odds? Huh? Got to be a couple of aberrations walking through corn fields with muskets over their shoulders. Then they vanish....true story, don't know it's true though. And then there's the lighthouse.

The building is empty and fenced in. The only ones who can get in are the park rangers and they don't give out passes willy nilly to just anybody. When we made the first poster "Lighthouses of Maryland" back in '90, this was the way she looked. Place was empty. Look carefully in the upstairs window, second from the right. See anything? Somebody or something seems to be looking out to sea. Oh well, maybe. But I believe...hell I believed in the Mets when they won the world series too. Sigh.

I had occasion to photograph the old light once again in November of '02, after they painted it the original colors.

On this trip, the ranger did allow me to enter the grounds and the building. As he works there every day, I had to ask the question. "OK, is it or isn't it" He chuckled and said he could not tell for sure.........but.

They do have a ghost walk once a year and he was in charge of turning one particular light in the house off an on as the people walked past. He said that no sooner had he turned the light off, than it would go on again all by itself and then in a few seconds off again. All by itself. He said that it was a little disconcerting. I know that the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I toured the place, and it was just the two of us.

And while they were painting the new colors and doing some renovations inside, a local lumber company was called on to deliver some 2x4s and plywood. The driver was reportedly suspect of superstitions of a number of kinds, having lived in the area all his life. The gate was left open for him and the rest of the people working on the place had not yet arrived, so the place was void of people. Not the way the driver explains it! He got out of the truck and was loosening the straps that held the wood when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He swears it was a hand, firm, gripping and steady. Of course when he turned to look.........there was no one there. Honest story. Honest truth? Story has it the lumber never did get delivered that day.

The second day of the month of Santa's Emergence

2011-12-02T06:01:00.000-08:00

I have been neglectful of the blog due to a long weekend of travel and an operation on my better half's foot. Some extensive surgery there, but a way too short stay with the kids in Maryland and Pennsylvania. Now three to six weeks of playing Nurse Ratchet. At least I hear the Pikes Place Roast making the last sounds of "I'm ready" and that's a good thing. Very quiet here and I just may have a cup before duty calls. Dogs have been fed and are quiet. All I can hear is the dull buzzing of my inner ears. Don't get old, it ain't for sissies! On my way to Maryland I passed the usual flocks of geese that make their annual trek to the Chesapeake, but also in the middle of the day at least two bands of whitetail deer racing across open fields. Only one reason for that behavior in the middle of the day. No pick me up trucks parked along the roads to indicate deer season. So must have been more natural, like the rutt. That is that time of year when the ladies are receptive to the males and the males act like damn fools in order to accommodate the ladies condition. What if we humans had such seasons? Well, I guess we do. Might be called "Friday night at the meet market season". At any rate the sight brought back tons of memories .... of Deer Hunting Season .... not Friday nights.

This buck is in Cades Cove in Tennessee, but my own pursuit of the wonderful whitetail started in New Jersey where there are more deer per capita than in any other state. Why is that you may ask? Well because there are more anti gun/hunter types per capita than in any other state. And our children have been taught that hunting is evil because 1.) it involves the dreaded gun, and B.) also involves shooting one of natures creatures. Both lines of reasoning are false, but that's another topic. As for you green save the earth types (And I am one but of a different stripe than presented on MSNBC, et al), you are all rookies. Hunters and fishermen have been saving the planet for hundreds of years. Also another topic.

I am not sure when my first deer hunt occurred. I know I was in high school. I know it was with bow and arrow. And I know I killed or wounded nothing but my pride. It was reasonably local to where I lived in east central NJ and was probably was somewhere around Martinsville, New Jersey. My group of friends and I would find a farm, get permission, and then stalk around the area for days after school, scattering game all over the place learning the trade of hunting. We considered ourselves amongst the likes of the old buffalo hunters (like Buffalo Bill and the [gasp] Indians), providing food for thousands.

Oh, we would see a lot of deer. Generally the white tail for which they get their names. They raise that thing when the are running away from something in alert mode. Saw lots of them. The first deer killed was not until we were well into college. It was a four point buck, killed in Stokes State Forest in North West New Jersey with a running shot that should not have been taken but which did end up mortal, much to my absolute amazement. The first of only two deer I ever killed before taking up the camera and laying down the weapons. The first by bow and the second by rifle. I found that I get far more enjoyment with the camera, but these herds do need to be thinned or the deer will eat themselves into starvation. Hunting does provide a most humane way of herd management. And hence the hunters in this world are leading edge conservationists.

My hunting experiences have provided me with the tools to get close enough to animals to make decent photographs. My father's advice was to go out into the woods young man, scrape a spot clean around a big tree so you can move quietly, sit down, and act like a bushel of apples. Deer love apples. What he did not say was how much enjoyment one can get from simply sitting in the middle of a woods quietly, not moving, listening and watching. Try it sometime, for a couple of hours. You don't need a weapon or a camera...use the mind's eye.

Thanksgiving Day, the 24th day of the 11th month of Emergence

2011-11-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all you gobblers out there!

The day before Thanksgiving in the year of Emergence

2011-11-23T06:23:00.000-08:00

It snowed in New Hampshire over night. This is a capture from a webcam in Wolfeboro an hour ago.

The coffee pot, set to automatic, is my alarm clock and this morning the "Pikes place roast" is calling unusually loud only becuase it is so quiet in the cabin. No red squirrels scampering over the roof. No great horned owls hooting the woods away. And certainly not wild cries of the loons penetrating the silence of the lake. Just the drip, drip of the coffee perking.

It is one of those mornings that one can simply lay awake and listen to the silence.

I throw on a set of long underwear, woolrich shirt, jeans and boots. A pine knot or two under a couple of red oak logs will restart last night's fire. Camera over one shoulder and the old Ithaca double bore over the other. I am more likely to shot something with the camera than the gun, but who knows a ruff grouse or even a turkey might present itself in a suicide run.

And there is an old pine tree that probably predates the native americans that might offer a good image. Not that I really need to expand my library of 50,000 or so images but my training tells me never, never to go out without the camera.

I pass the little metal boat called "Putt", upside down on the beach and awaiting the spring fishing crowd. Sneak through the parking lot with the sign stating that this is where the anglers park. And on up the hill of the road. Some one else has cross country skied before me.

Thats ok, the silence is still deafening. I think that the silence of a new snowfall is the thing that amazes me the most. It's as if the world has been insulated. On mornings like this....no wind and the storm clinging to every exposed surface that can catch a snowflake.

The stream that feeds into the lake still runs clear and clean. One could almost drink the water running over a stream bed created thousands of years ago. Just incredible when one thinks about it. A flowing stream is always alive. The water that is. Sure there are all kinds of little critters living in the water, but the water itself is never still. Always moving. What was, is. What is, will be.

Eventually, the last sip of coffee is cold. The morning light is too late for that tree. No grouse or turkey, which is probably a good thing because I did'nt have to interrupts God's stillness. No bear or moose for that "Will you look at that moment". Just a pleasant moment in a lifetime of sometime pleasant moments. Just the kind of moment to wish my family and friends a happy and wonerful family Thanksgiving.

The 21st day of the eleventh month of Emergence

2011-11-21T14:25:00.000-08:00

On a clear day, you can see forever!

My gratitude to Dr. Bristow, another of Dr. Smith's fantastic posse.

You guys are keeping me alive with duck tape and bailing wire, and I appreciate it. My little procedure went well and I have written proof from my proctologist that they in fact did not find my head.

The 20th day of the 11th month of Emergence

2011-11-20T09:10:00.000-08:00

Life is just an adventure.

And I guess that's how you got to look at it. Today's blog will fall into the TMI category but as I have said in the past it's my blog, so suffer! A few days ago my idol was decimated by scandal and now he has lung cancer. So when it rains it pours. I looked at the Drudge report a day or so ago and was sure the world was coming to an end within the hour. It started out at 34 degrees yesterday morning but got up to 80 by three o'clock. What did the guy say....if they give you lemons make lemonade? Or maybe whiskey sours! God.....the glass has to be half full and not empty. So for all you guys living in your mother's basement or garage, go back on your little puter and be positive.

This morning after building my cup of Pikes Place Roast (bless you Starbucks) without cream, it was then my chore to mix the Dy-NO-Mite cocktail in preparation for tomorrow's colonoscopy (hence forth the "C" word). See, life truly is an adventure.

Now why in the world would we as rational human beings pay $7.00 to put themselves through the anticipated agony that even an afternoon of professional football won't cure. We all know that the results of this stuff will be challenging, but another adventure.

I got a call from the nurses yesterday to A.) check if I was all ready and remind me that I have to be there at a certain time and to call if I was going to be out of the country. And 2.) to assure me that they were all ready.

Well, that was encouraging. I just wonder what possesses a man, or woman for that matter to become a proctologist. "Hi what's your Major............Oh thank you for asking it's proctology". God I pass enough of those on the streets everyday, why do all that studying just to see another one? And up close and personal at that. God Bless em!

I think there's a reason why the sign at the right says "No trespassing"

Furthermore, if that Rib eye in the fridge winks at me again I will grill the SOB up just for practice.

The 17th day of the eleventh month of the year of Emergence

2011-11-17T12:16:00.000-08:00

I just posted the banner for this blog on FAA

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/lookin-in-skip-willits.html

Here are a couple more images of "Looking In"

I will probably post him to FAA shortly.

Maybe her too.

Then there's the laughing pony.

The 15th day of the 11th month of Emergence

2011-11-15T04:48:00.000-08:00

Two new listings of FAA!

Both of these images may be purchased as note or Christmas cards on Fine Art America along with tons of the same type of cards from thousands of artists.

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/farmers-christmas-skip-willits.html

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/a-christmas-gaggle-skip-willits.html

There will be more to come in the next few days. Who would of thought of it, getting ready for Christmas even before Thanksgiving. It's as bad as the politicos running for office a year and a half ahead of time. Eighty degrees here today....Happy Fall!

The 14th day of the 11th month of Emergence

2011-11-14T04:54:00.000-08:00

Minding the roots at Tavern Creek-12

I suppose the weather in the Mid-Atlantic is becoming a little more like winter, but if my memory serves the real winter won't show up till Jan and Feb. One of the nice (?) things about winter on the bay is the congregation of Canvasback ducks. Called "The king of ducks" because of their superb flavor. Me, I just like to watch and photograph them. Remember to double click the photograph for a better resolution.

These are diving ducks and that means only one thing. They need water to live. Open water! And when their home body of water freezes over, they congregate wherever they can find it. Ice is not their friend. Often hundreds, if not thousands, can be found in flocks around the bay and the area around the Tavern and Swan Creeks is a perfect place.

This is the western edge of Swan Creek at it's mouth. The Tavern lies just beyond that cedar tree in the middle of the scene. Out of frame to the right and up against the shore there is a deep hole that holds all kinds of fish during the summer months. This is a spot not known by many but I have been seen catching my fill of white perch there for over fifty years.

It can be seen that the bay is pretty much frozen over. Not too many years in history has it been completely frozen, although some of the old timers (Who am I kidding?) will tell of the time that they drove their tin lizzies across to Baltimore. (If you don't know what a tin lizzie is, you're way to young so Google it). Now fishing tales and the reminiscences of old men alike should be questioned for their veracity, but that's the story and I for one will stick to it.

The little channel to Tavern starts at the left of this image and runs roughly to just off the point of land to the right. Not a big channels as waterways go. I can remember many times running the little fourteen footer aground either to the left or right as I moved across the big creek. The open water to the top and off the point is for the most part two to three feet deep depending upon the tide. Once the point is reached, a hard right turn takes one into the Tavern. Swan Point is just beyond the Tavern to the right. Actually, the whole area is known as Swan Point as a general term of location. Not that many are familiar with the Tavern.

This is basically the view I had to live with throughout my teenage and early adult life. It is absolutely amazing the things one can see if they take the time. From this location I have seen container ships headed to or from the port of Baltimore along side of a hundred year old sailing vessel known as a Skipjack. The beginning and end of wonderful summer thunder storms. Flat bottom waterman's boats rigged for clamming, oystering, drift netting, and or crabbing. Just about every size sailboat made. People with clothes and without. Muscle boats that one can hear from miles away, even before they come into sight. Each of the latter it seems complete with the required and factory equipped pretty girl (for the politically incorrect insert dumb blond joke here).

But when I sit back and really look, some of the most amazing things I have seen have always been associated with mother nature. Her beauty and power.

Probably could have done worse!

The 12th day of the eleventh month of Emergence

2011-11-12T02:50:00.000-08:00

Today is not going to be an easy day!

Not only am I into the fourth day of my semi annual six month head cold, but the Doc. has me drugged up to the point that I am likely to say stupid things.............Again.

There will be no nice photographs here today, just pontificating on my part. For you see I must watch my Alma Mater play a football game. It will be difficult. Some 46 years ago, I saw Joe Paterno take over the coaching role from Rip Engle at Penn State. No, I was there and watched. That will give you some idea of how old I am. Of course I have weathered much better than Joe and and am much more handsome at this point.

However!

No longer will I have the opportunity to say to my Grandson...."Ben, now that is a man you can model yourself after". My idol, my icon, had feet of clay. Or at least is being given feet of clay by the media. Either way it does not matter a whit. I am devastated by the very thought of all those little boys, my grandson's age, who had to endure what turned out to be the attentions of a monster. I am devastated that my idol, my icon did not take more appropriate steps when first informed. But we may not know all the details yet and we all know the devil is in the details.

For the monster, you face a sure and probably painful death. Prisoners in "The System" do not look fondly at child molesters and you are likely to become someones bitch only till he gets close enough to put a knife in you. For my idol, my icon..........I only wish you could have left with some dignity. You earned that right, but alas squandered it.

This game today with Nebraska will get played. I implore the students and other fans to act like the adults you are.

Players, well you have taken some four plus years to get to this point. Some of you have aspirations for the pros. Others will take their educations elsewhere. You don't deserve all this mess and had nothing to do with it, but you do deserve to play this game with the same skill and verve as if nothing else had happened. I wish you all the luck in the world and will be cheering for you individually.

Students, be rabid for your team but be sensible. By the way is the "Skeller" still there? Rioting has no place at my Alma Mater because,

"We Are"!

11-11-11 the year of Emergence

2011-11-11T02:34:00.000-08:00

Minding the roots at Tavern Creek-11

The strange thing about this post is that.... I found this one to be the eleventh. Wow, a coincidence?
Maybe I should wait till eleven after eleven this morning to post it. Nah, not that interested in the numerology thing.

To reach Tavern Creek directly we had to make an overland trip by car from central New Jersey to the Eastern shore of MD on the Chesapeake. The destination, if you have been following, was a little place called Gratitude which is in a little place called Rock Hall. Rock Hall in the mid fifties consisted of maybe about 2,000 souls and what appeared to be six hundred black, brown, or Chesapeake bay Labrador retriever dogs of questionable family lineages. And, most of whom slept on the broken white lines of the three main roads in the town. Yep it was that slow. But when one passed another car or truck coming towards you, you needed to wave cause the other person was going to. We started in a little summer home on Lawton Ave right across the street from Swan creek, which was adjacent to Tavern Creek, which was adjacent to the bay itself. Being in my teens, I probably didn't pay much attention to the adults living out there. But there were some with "Character".

Dorsey Loan, (sp) live next door to the third house we owned out there. I think that he was a retired machinist of some kind. Could have been one of the local town drunks but I'm not sure. That revered position was taken over some years later by one of my childhood friends, Sonny of aka Festus. I think that Dorsey had a crush on my mother, but then again he probably had a crush on most any woman who crossed his path. He rented boat slips and sold some gas from the little dock he had on his property. Was in a constant state of pontification because he was educated and wanted everyone to know it.

I did not know too much about Jack Smollins (sp) other than he lived there on the point and carved wood for a living. Well, I guess it was a living. At that time all I remember was walking into his house one Saturday night and thinking the house was on fire. But all I could find was the smoke and it made you feel funny. I guess, and this would have been in the late fifties or early sixties and Jack was evidently kinda living a little of the flower child life. However, his enduring legacy is the carving of the waterman that one finds as one enters Rock Hall.

Then there were the Walberts who lived a couple of houses down. They had three kids and he did construction. He helped my father rebuild most of the houses we bought there. I kept in touch with their middle son, Donny, for almost forty years.

Bill and Annette Woolford ran the little fishing dock and four booth restaurant across the street from us. Bill was a painter by trade and Annette ran the place. I remember during Hurricane Hazel, she stood in water up to her knees making us kids hamburgers on the gas stove because we helped to secure the boats. I mean this was in the storm, not before or afterward............but IN. Walking out the dock in three feet of water and holding onto ropes so we weren't swept out to sea. Talk about true grit. Annette was the mother we didn't have when we were away from our own houses. Down to earth and in full command of the street language that scared the pants off we kids. You could always get a good lunch, rent a boat, buy bait and use their dock for whatever it is kids wanted to do when they thought they were unsupervised. We were always supervised!

There are many others but time has done this thing to my memory. Rock Hall was always a cool place to go with my father on Saturday morning to a little market right on Main Street. Dad was gregarious and had to talk to everybody. I wish I could remember the names of the people who ran all the little shops. All I can remember is that one of them, it might have been Emil, was "Dating" Ms. Durding who ran the drugstore on the corner. Course we kids didn't know anything about all that. Mr. Stenger ran the hardware store that generally was out of what you were looking for. And I forget the man that ran the 5 & 10 cent store, but the place always remined me of a ladies ware store.

Durdings, the building on the left in this 1990's image, was the "Hangout" for us kids. Olde tyme soda fountain, penny candy, the whole nine yards. Ms. Durding would put up with us kids only so long and kick us either out of the store or off the front steps. If I recall she was armed with a broom. Years, later when I was running a one hour film lab in Chestertown, MD, she came in to have some film developed.

I will always remember saying "Helen Durding?....You probably don't remember me but you kicked me out of your store more times than I care to remember. Helen, get outa my store!" She of course knew who I was and expected some smart comment from me. We laughed about all that for years. She really was a fine lady, constantly interested in how we were doing.

Little towns generally don't' change much too quickly. This view of Rock Hall is on a postcard probably printed in the 1930's. The streets had not been paved then. The one below in the 50's. It is amazing the amount of visual is found on the old postcards.

The above view is from the other direction, looking south. So Durdings would be at the end of the street on the right. This is an old linen postcard from the fifties and the grain of the paper pattern is visible in the photo. The relative prosperity of the town can be noted by the number of vehicles which were probably late forties vintage. Things were kept neat, but there was not a lot of extra money around to buy fancy cars. Most extra dollars went to boats and farm equipment which provided the local folks with their primary source of income. Farming and the water were the income sources back then and the sailing tourist boom was still thirty years away.

Out of frame and to the right (behind the perspective) was an old bowling alley which was also a popular hangout but is now gone. That was another place for a kid from out of town....either you had to fight good or be with someone who could (always my choice)........or you could run like hell! I must admit at that age I was pretty fast. A waterman friend told me one day while describing the Rock Hall boys. "If Joe Frazier was coming to town, the boys would fight each other all day long to see who got to fight him that night. All the time knowing they was going to get their butts kicked." Small towns. Gotta love em.

The ninth day of the eleventh month of Emergence

2011-11-09T04:34:00.000-08:00

Just another tease!

The eighth day in the next to last

2011-11-08T05:06:00.000-08:00

Fall is hitting the south.

Two images made along the Saluda River just north and west of downtown Columbia, SC. I think we made it to eighty degrees yesterday. Maybe seventy today, so fall may just be defined a little differently down here as opposed to above the Mason Dixon Line. At any rate, I'll take it. Had a nice walk to the

The 7th day of the 11th month of Emergence

2011-11-07T05:50:00.000-08:00

Misadventures of Deuce and the Hootster

As some of the more astute amongst you know, I live in a kennel! Well, not really but two dogs and two cockatiel birds come close enough for me. All we need is a cat to complete the food chain.

To bring you all up to speed, Deuce is the second (Duh) bird to come our way. The first one flew out the back door by mistake because his feathers had not been clipped in a timely fashion.

Cockatiels are flock birds that need company. We humans are supposed to be their flock in lieu of a mess of the real things. This guy is about as paranoid as you can get. He is the early warning system in our house, screaming when anything even passes one of the windows. This immediately is the signal for the little dog to start barking and the big dog to bark back-up. The real big dog then starts screaming at the whole bunch to be quiet. Must sound good in the spring and fall when all the windows are open.

Thinking that Deuce really needed companionship, and the real thing at that, we allowed the crafty bird saleslady to talk us into giving a home to Hooty (because he looks like and owl?).

If you want to really be scared, double click on the images for full screen. Because they are flock birds, they are all supposed to look pretty much the same because there is safety in numbers. Somewhere along the line, this guy got a pair of jeans messed up. His coloration just is not right and hence he is treated as an outcast.

I am sure that Deuce thinks that the Hootster is just plain weird. Hooty also has a much sharper beak (hole punch if you will) and is not afraid to use it. One is primarily but is not aggressive to the other bird, but people are a whole nuther question. Go figure, but he can bite and he can draw blood. So much for devotion and gratitude to tender loving care.

This weekend past, we allowed them both out of the cage to sit on the kitchen window and talk to the real wild birds on the feeder. They seemed to enjoy it no end. Neither bird talks, like in human baby talk for instance, but Deuce does do a wolf whistle. The chickadees and cardinals have no idea what that's all about, but Deuce apparently feels that they should. I don't know, it never worked for me either!

I guess from the wild bird's point of view these two just did not make the cut, and hence the communication was pretty much one sided. But they did have fun, I took a mess of photos and they got their dose of vitamin D from all that sunshine.

The sixth day of the 11th month of Emergence

2011-11-06T12:57:00.000-08:00

Riverbanks Zoo last week

You can tell it's the south!

The fruit loop

I know the Meercat thing is over, but they still have character.

This is just a great piece of art

A really clean fountain

The fourth of November in the year of Emergence

2011-11-04T04:38:00.000-07:00

A TRIBUTE TO A SPECIAL YOUNG LADY

Eighteen years ago. a special young lady was born in Philadelphia to my daughter and her husband. She was special in many ways, being the first grand child not withstanding. Elizabeth is the type of person who make grandparents just sit back and glow. I, for one, could not be more proud of what she has accomplished in her young life. This is a gal who is doing it right in a world that has it all wrong! And that's not easy. Good grades, a solid moral compass, stunning looks, a sense of family, community and captain of cross country.

I simply wish you a happy birthday "E".

Know that I love you and am incredibly curious to see what the next 18 years bring for you. You of course will have more than that, but the formative years are still happening. There will be some in the future who will want to try to bend your values and goals to their own agenda, but stay the course and be your own person. Your foundation has been fantastic and you should be congratulated for all you've done to date. Course your grand parents had a lot to do with all that and your parents as well.

You will note that I have not used the old soccer image that I made of you a hundred years ago, and for that I know you're grateful. Love you and have a wonderful day.

Grand Dad

The second day of the eleventh month

2011-11-02T05:31:00.000-07:00

A NICE GROUPING

All three images may be purchased separately in the sizes you would like at my FAA site.

http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/skip-willits.html?tab=artworkgalleries&artworkgalleryid=117800

The first day of the eleventh month of the year of Emergence

2011-11-01T03:18:00.000-07:00

CAN YOU IMAGINE?

Shortly after 1529, you are tasked with exploring what is now western North Carolina in search for that elusive route to the treasure of the far east. You probably had only a canoe and your feet for transportation and that was complicated by a native people who thought you looked pretty strange and were hence assumed to be hostile.

Furthermore, you were faced with this as your GPS!

In winter this job became not only cold but downright slippery.

Spotty rime ice covered sections of the mountains you had to claw over. Snow, wind, fog and rain were commonplace depending upon the time of the year. Just the thought of getting from point A in a vista to point B had to be daunting. Furthermore, those folks did not have the clothing we modern hikers enjoy. And who knew? Were those incredibly bright red Mountain Ash berries edible, even with the available refrigeration?

Or if you were lucky enough to have bartered a canoe, what were the perils of the unknown mountain rivers and streams.

Portages into the unknown could be undertaken easily, but not at ease because the next turn may have held utter disaster

All of a sudden you could find yourself in the shoot at Linville Falls.

In a flash, in a canoe, the result would not have been pretty. You have to look closely, but those are people on the rocks under the upper pool and below the two smaller falls.

What a chore being an explorer was way back when! I fear, left up to our current devices, that today it never would have happened. Couch potatoes, video games and an overweight population would have made it difficult to get much further west of Pamlico Sound. But then the beach is nice too.

The 29th day of the tenth month of Emergence

2011-10-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

CHRISTMAS WISHES

Often you find them in the most unlikely places and in a different light.

The 27th day of the tenth month of Emergence

2011-10-27T05:46:00.000-07:00

A great day to go salmon fishing.

Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. I happened to go to the online cam this morning and noticed that the view over the big lake was not unlike this photo I too a couple of years ago in late April.

Thirty seven degrees and a cold rain today.

Sounds like late spring. Sky is overcast and the smelt are on the surface. That only means that the predators are on the move. Landlock salmon, rainbow trout, and smallmouth bass. But it is generally the salmon and trout we look for. A twinge of nostalgia as I mentally tie on a Red Grey Ghost and hope for the best.

We'll fish these flies as long as the weather stinks like it does this morning. But then again this is the kind of fishing weather we hope for. If the sun comes out we may have to go a bit deeper and use metal like a rainbow smelt.

Or maybe an Ontario Flasher.

But those lures are not as much fun to fish as the ones we use on the surface with light tackle. Sure the uniform of the day, on days like this, starts with good long underwear, heavy socks, boots, heavy pants, sweaters and wind breakers. Probably gloves.

Mostly resemble the Pillsbury dough boy. If we fell overboard, we would bob like corks until the water completely soaked in and then we'd sink like stones. But hey, we're still indesctrutible. Well----we were up to only a few years ago.

The 26th day of the tenth month of the year of Emergence

2011-10-26T08:50:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK - 10

Ten miles inland from Tavern Creek is the small town of Chestertown on the Chester River which flows into the Chesapeake. This is an incoming storm just at sunset and is actually a tease for the new, yet to be released, "THIRDi" CD which will include clouds, sky scenics, sunsets and sunrises. An Artist's aid.

Remember to double click the image for larger resolutions. I have changed the blog around a bit. Please note and visit my Photostream, a new addition to this blog and what will eventually become my new website.

The 24th day of the 10th month of Emergence

2011-10-24T05:38:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK - 9

Emerging from the creek, one is likely to notice a decomposing vessel left to face posterity alone in a marsh. One can only imagine the stories that could be told about such a boat if only the previous owners could be found.

This is an old Skipjack sailing boat. Stripped and left in the marsh to do the dust to dust thing. Watermen, when their boats got to old to use, would simply sail them up a ditch in the marsh and leave them to rot. Cheapest way to dispose of them.

The Skipjack type boat was introduced into the Chesapeake somewhere in the late 1800's. It was used strictly for dredging oysters. Prior to the introduction of this way of oyster fishing in the bay, watermen had to wield long and heavy hand tongs to extract the tasty morsels from the bars on the bottom of the bay. But the Skipjack had a hand winch amidships that would allow two dredges to be cast into the water, dragged along the bars, and hand cranked one again to the deck. Oysters and other debris were then sorted and the dredges thrown overboard and the whole process started anew. This was the primary boat of the famed oyster wars conducted on the Maryland Virginia line between the watermen of those two states. Fighting for space on the bay.

While there are probably a dozen of these boats still around, the trouble lies in finding a crew who knows how to handle a "Working" sail boat. Furthermore, the abundance (or lack there of) of oysters in the bay is not sufficient to support a thriving industry.

Back in the day, the skipjacks would leave port on Monday morning and sail all week. Some would have little boats with a single cabin and a couple of bunks where the sailors would spends the nights. The catch would be off loaded each day to a ship called a "Buy Boat" seen in the distance in this image.

The buy boat would simply off load the oysters from a number of skipjacks each day and return to port to sell the load once they were full. This enabled the fishermen to stay on the water for extended periods of time and not have to sail back to port each day.

Here the "Wilma Lee" carries oyster spat, or young oyster seed, to a bar where the watermen will seed in order to provide a future generation of oysters. This gives the watermen a bit of extra income in the off season as well as aids in the propagation of the oyster.

Once the tasty morsels made it to shore, the "Shuckers" would take over. While not a dangerous job, it is tedious. The knives used to open the shells could, if mishandled, put a significant hole in one's hand. Believe me, I have visited an emergency room or two while pretending I knew what I was doing. These folks know what they are doing and are super fast as well. They get paid by the quart. And you thought you had a tough job!

The 20th day of the 10th month

2011-10-20T12:04:00.000-07:00

You all just gotta go to this website and see a bunch of slides from the 1940's. No, not mine. I'm that old but not that active back then.

http://extras.denverpost.com/archive/captured.asp

The 18th day of the 10th month of Emergence

2011-10-18T08:50:00.000-07:00

SUNDAY COLORS

Sunday was the first time I have ever hit the mountains at or near the peak of the fall color change. Well, they were I guess within a couple of weeks of peak.

Remember to doubled click the images for full screen and a better resolution.

We started out in Asheville, to do of course, a little shopping and lunch at the Biltmore Village. Actually a very nice place where they have all the big name stores so one could spend a week, but we only had a few hours.

The next step was on to the Blue Ridge Parkway, heading north and thinking that the higher and farther north we went, the more color. This was one of those vacation type trips and hence the opportunities for photographing was more limited to what the good Lord gave us. Traffic on the parkway was heavy and pulling off to the side of the road necessarily involved taking one's life into one's hands. But I got a few shots. No matter where you go, there is always somebody who wants to do something out of the ordinary (borderline stupid maybe). At one of the turnoffs, everybody was looking out across the mountains at the longer view. I of course turned around, rebel that I am, to look at the mountain behind everyone. And here comes this gal climbing down an almost vertical cliff. I figured at least I would get some shots of ambulance lights flashing, but she made it.

Now, when one gets on the Blue Ridge, one must be very aware of the level of gasoline in your vehicle's tank. I thought I had enough, but by the time we got to Mt. Michell I had to ask someone where the nearest station was. Fifteen miles, which was OK because I wasn't that bad. A little mountain convenience store with one pump that worked and another that did not. Also prices were a half buck higher than in the other four surrounding states. Oh well, I guess that's what all those jerks in New York are demonstrating against. The evil capitalist. In this case a couple of true mountain men. "How do I get back to Asheville? Cain't rightly get thar from here." Seems there was a motorcycle accident on top of the mountain and they had closed the road since we left the parkway.

As you can see from the sign, Mt. Michell is way up there. In fact the mountain goat and sheep in Alaska have absolutely nothing to fear from me. By the time I got to the top of Mitchell, I was gasping for oxygen. Never had that feeling before but I can tell you it's real when the air gets thin.

Sheri is about half way to the top taking a picture of me while I take one of her. Not very clear, but the point is look how steep the walk is. The guy on the right is at a 20 degree list just to keep his momentum going. At this point we are almost at the top and along comes a guy in an artic cat, giving people rides. Now he shows up. Murphy was a true optimist!

I guess it wouldn't be worth it all unless I had a shot from the top of Mt. Mitchell. I mean, why do we climb a mountain in the first place. Well, of course to see what's on the other side! Duh!

The 15th day of the tenth month of the year of Emergence

2011-10-15T02:46:00.000-07:00

SOUTH CAROLINA STATE FAIR

Yesterday we went to the fair. Our annual trek to see if the old man (me) will get on to some insane rides designed to raise the blood pressure of teenagers who are already apparently out there on something and certainly do not need more stimuli. Me, my morning Pikes Place Roast is enough to insure that the blood is still moving at some acceptable rate somewhere in my body.

Well, my grand kids will be snickering about the two rides in which I did partake. The first was senior citizen appropriate. At least to the point that the operator said that they would hold my cane until I departed the thing. My annual Ferris Wheel loop de loop.

This is one of the slides where a ten year old is in an absolute screaming delight, and can do with an ice cream cone in his hand and not spill a drop. I, on the other hand simply want to throw up.

Of course if you are an over aged, overachiever, seasoned citizen, this is the only way to look at this thing. From the top down.

People at the bottom just could not understand my screams of abject fear. Three quarters of the way down the old inner ear kicks in..............now that's a ride. (The ear that is)

Sheri caught my "Oh I will enjoy this" expression. Whether I want to or not. Not so totally trusting as to why I would ever end up six stories up in the air in some plastic bucket with her laughing at my trepidations. Not happy but not tooooo scared. But certainly ready to get down and partake of all the Carnival grease sold in the form of congealed pork chop on a stick and french fries.

Pass the Prilosec please.

The 14th day of the tenth month of the year of Emergence

2011-10-14T04:55:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK - 8

Sitting here almost 60 years later with my first Pikes Place Roast of the day, I am struck with the idea that a mid teenage person was allowed by his parents to venture out daily onto a huge body of water that regularly kills more careless souls every year. But I guess they knew what they were doing or had some inordinate amount of trust in me. I know I pushed that level of trust over the years probably much to their chagrin. But in fact I was never alone on the bay....all one had to do was look.

A waterman starting his day hand tonging for oysters.

A group of watermen clamming on the Chester River.

A group working a set of pound nets.

Another boat load working drift nets.

A patent tonger working an oyster bar just to the south west of Tavern Creek on the Swan Point Bar.

Or finally clammers culling the clams from the rest of the debris found on the bottom of the bay.

Every last one of these guys would have and do come to the aid of anyone in distress on the water. Oh, yeah they would cuss ya for making them stop their work just to help some green horn, but help they would. Or if they knew you, they would tease you in public for years for getting in trouble.

It is amazing however, the stupidity of some who take to the water. Or mabye it's just people who are unprepared and unaware. Mostly folks that rent or lease boats for short vacation type trips. Never been in a boat, never been on the water, have no clue how to get themselves out of trouble. And, mother nature is very unforgiving. I have pulled many folks off sand bars upon which they found themselves grounded. One such comment was made to me by a father on a sailboat with his young son on board. I was watching them ground themselves with a huge thunder storm forming to the west. I knew that this had all the markings of a disaster in the making. They were in the flats off the Tavern and between the islands. He couldn't understand it. "This boat draws three feet of water and the charts say I have three feet right here" Well Duh! Yeah, that's at high tide and now the tide is out. I towed them to deeper water and the guy was still shaking his head at the charts. I told him to stay in the area where he could see the markers for crab pots. The pots always had to be in a water depth of at least an oars length. Rule of thumb. Failing that maybe follow the buoys marked on his charts. Good thing, as it turned out it was a bad storm!

The 13th day of the tenth month of the year of Emergence

2011-10-13T09:45:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK -7

Hunger overtakes all teenagers and even a shore lunch can become an adventure. Think of it! Small boat, a couple of pan stripers, a sand beach, and all the time in the world.

Alone! Except for a few gulls always looking for handouts. I learned at a very young age to stock the boat or back pack with survival gear...or what I thought to be survival gear. A small black metal fry pan and a boy scout cooking gizmo that came apart to yield a cooking pot and plate. Of course the pride of any kid on the shore was the fishing knife carried in a scabbard at the waist. A fire, couple of fish, some new potatoes, and a couple or three stalks of asparagus heisted from the neighbor's garden. Now I ask you, are there any kids today that could....or would.....do that? No Ipods. No ipans. Just I. And self sufficiency. Scary stuff!

The general area I have been talking about is on the Eastern Shore of Maryland across the bay from Baltimore. This old 1950's era postcard will give you an overview of the area.

Sorry for the quality of the card, but it is 1950 and a linen card which shows every thread. But the color is good. The line on the right of the card is Rt. 20 and at the end by the water is Gratitude. Tavern and Swan Creeks are off the card to the top right, with Rock Hall the middle. For those of you who know the area, it is a lot different today. This image was made when RH was a sleepy workman's and waterman's town. Back then it was what a young boy thought to be as wild as any place featured in a story written for "Field and Stream" or "Outdoor Life" magazines. And it was real time!

The 12th day of the tenth month of the year of Emergence

2011-10-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-6

I emerge from the creek into the flats between the two islands. An area protected from the wind and tide, and realize it is a location of thought. You know those places.

A place where nature and the human mind careen into place and introspection comes barging into the frontal lobes. I equate this morning to another spent many years later on Lake Winnepasaukee in a canoe.

You're all alone, not a ripple of humanity. And your mind wanders. In this case to all the properties my parents owned on Gratitude and a childhood so idyllic. Until I pass between the island this morning, I will have the opportunity to drift pieces of crab for small or pan sized stripe bass and white perch. The water isn't over my waist for almost a square mile and the drift will be slow, so my mind can wander.

My dad wasn't rich by today's standards, but he worked hard, got ahead, and invested wisely. I just wish he had taken me in tow in these regards, but water over the dam. His investments were, other than a few stocks, in properties he bought and fixed up. Living in them for a year or so and then turning them over. He was a flipper way before reality TV became popular. Along the way my sister and I were blessed to grow up in a couple of amazing places. Gratitude being one of them.

He bought at Gratitude because this area along with Rock Hall were the launching pads for a number of fishing trips on the bay during his first job after college. He graduated from Penn State in the early 30's and worked for the Interstate Milk Producers before ultimately becoming president of the Dairy Farm Products Division of the Borden Company in New York City. He was going back to his roots so to speak in Gratitude.

The first place he bought was Miss Lotty Strong's place and we lived there during the summers. I of course spent the summer there and was in charge of chores...Dad worked all week long and came down on weekends.

These are old photos taken by either my father or myself. Not so great, but from an historical prospective are accurate descriptions of the area back in the day. Double click for full screen.

During the fall and winter days, the house next door would take in borders for the weekend goose and duck hunting seasons. Now, if my own experiences are any proof, the hunters could get rather rowdy in the evenings. Of course we would all want to be sleeping at that time and it was really exciting to see the town's only policeman arrive next door with lights flashing at 2:00 AM. So, Dad decided to buy the place and put an end to all "My rowdy friends".

That first summer, it was my job to paint the interior of the place. Thirteen bedrooms, two parlors or living rooms, a commercial kitchen and dinning room. This was hell for a teenager who only wanted to be on the water all the time. But, we got er done. Two hundred and thirty gallons of paint if I recall accurately.

Both of these two places were across Lawton Avenue from the water proper and he finally was able to purchase an old sea shanty shack type place across the street. The original house consisted of three rooms straight from street to water. We cleaned out the place by paying (donating) the fire company a couple of hundred bucks to bring a truck and turn the high pressure hoses in the front door and blowing everything out the back. The back of the boarding house which I painted became part of the new place. Rather than pay the telephone/electric company's to take down the wires on the street, we cut the house in half, dropped the second floor onto the first, ducked the whole thing under the wires, and rebuilt it as an addition on the new place. That's the section you see to the right in the following photo.

The bay window on the first floor in the building to the right (the living room) was taken from a demolition site Dad passed in New York City on his way to work. It came from an old bar and had decorations etched into the glass with a black and gold sign painted in the lower corner with "Ladies Invited". He bought it for five bucks and had to drive into the city to pick it up. It made it all the way to Maryland in the back seat of his car that weekend.

The place is now been sold and is for some unfathomable reason is called "Silly Manor". He sold this place and moved his summer residence to Chestertown, Maryland when he underwent a series of heart attacks and by-pass surgery. He was probably one of the first five hundred in the world to have such surgery. He wanted to be closer to the hospital. He passed away a few years later, the victim of a head on crash driving from New Jersey to his beloved Gratitude.

The 11th day of the 10th month of Emergence

2011-10-11T04:42:00.000-07:00

SAYIN GOODBYE!

I think that these guys are headed south. It's been a couple of weeks without adding new feed to the feeder and I have not seen them around. Next year guys it's been a great ride.

Remember to double click the photo for full screen and better resolution.

The tenth of the tenth

2011-10-10T05:31:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-5

The farther one goes into a creek like Tavern, on the fringes of the Chesapeake, the more one feel like he is in one of those Chinese finger toys.

The harder you try to pull away, the closer and tighter the memories and lessons become.

These creeks are bordered with marsh land supporting such critters as muskrat, beaver and whitetail deer. All kinds of feathered stuff abounds as well. All one needs to do is be quiet, slow, and bright eyed attentive to what the good Lord put before us.

Edges and little tongues of water off the main channel offer unmeasured treasures, even if it is as simple as a reflection.

Or just an old snag that provides resting spots for red wing blackbirds, hawks, and the occasional bald eagle. This eagle has returned to his nest of birth for a momentary safe feeling before he moves on to continue his life. Or perhaps just a poignant farewell.

The marsh gives way to farm land as the lay of the land rises away from the creek. Farming and hunting are the primary endeavors in this place. Corn. soybeans and winter wheat are the staple crops. Ducks, geese, and deer are the wild game of choice for the hunters.

An old blind is readied for the season. In this area, farmers will leave a row or two of corn for the geese. This gives them winter feed and the farmer a spot from which to shoot.

So far, the roots seem to be soundly planted in the creek and I guess some of my own roots have taken hold through some of these experiences. Only took a half century for it to sink in, but these roots have been there all along.

The 7th day of the 10th month

2011-10-07T05:32:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK - 4

It is funny, I can wander into a room of the house specifically in search of something. Get there and have absolutely no idea why I am standing, looking around for something, that has totally vanished from my thought process.

But the texture, feel, look, and meaning of a particular morning on a hidden muddy creek on the eastern shore of Maryland's Chesapeake Bay is embedded in the front of my forehead as if it happened 30 seconds ago. Yet it was over 55 years past. Strange what we seasoned citizens must endure.

The fog slowly lifts revealing a marshland on either side of the creek. A full tide allows my craft to snuggle into the grasses edge as I sneak around each bend. Fishing is probably done for the day as the sun lifts and the tide wanes, but other natural wonders abound for a young man in his formative years. These creeks along the eastern shore of the bay are simply mini highways into an incredibly productive farming country. Such country can be found from the shores of the Susquehanna River in New York and Pennsylvania, all the way south to the mouth of the bay at Cape Charles in Virginia. Much of the area is similar. Bear in mind that a hundred years ago, the only transportation in the area was by boat. So a great deal of the property along the Bay is constructed with water access in mind.

Sections of the creek open suddenly to show nature's hidden gems. This doe has spent the night feeding on the corn and soybeans of the adjacent farm and is now bedded down for the remainder of the day. Late in the afternoon, she will rise and start the feeding process all over again.

You can find these wonderment's if you know the area and are quiet enough not to disturb the critters. Fields still open to the water's edge and the newest arrivals are on the morning feed.

A young osprey should have left the nest for the flight south around or on the 15th of September. But being young, he hasn't learned the drill and still hangs out hoping that his parents are incoming with another fish for breakfast. He'll get hungry in a day or two and start to hunt in earnest and move on south until sometime in mid march when he returns to the same area.

As the tide starts to move out in earnest, I must leave the constricting shores of the creek and seek deeper water. Even in my little craft, the bottom will come up too fast. At the mouth of Tavern, I am looking south towards the bay bridge at Annapolis some 12 miles away.

Immediately in front of my craft's bow is about three quarters of a mile of flats between the two islands. One island on the west side of the flat and another on the east. Our home lies to the east of the entire flat and over Swan Creek. Baltimore lies to the West North West and across the bay. The fog has burnt off and a welcomed warmth is building in the eastern sky. The creek is quiet, but the flat is constantly moving with wind and tide. The islands are destined for destruction from the ever eroding forces of moving water and sand. But this day they offer protection from the building waves of the bay proper.

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

2011-10-06T05:20:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK -3

On a rare fall weekend trip, I quietly slip the boat from the dock way before anybody at our place even thinks of turning over and putting the feet on the floor. Just before dawn the tide is beginning to swell and the boat is only inches below the top of the grey weathered boards of the dock. The air is cool enough that a misty fog shrouds the shoreline and dampness begins to work into the body before the boat even approaches Rock Hall harbor.

The harbor at Rock Hall is only a few minutes run from Gratitude and is the place where one can buy gas for the boat and bait for fishing. Normally, during the summer months, I would have caught some peeler crabs or soft shells the day before. But this is a weekend trip and I must search for them or buy them. In this case I dip a couple of soft shells that are hanging on a holding net in the harbor. These are crabs that are hanging on the "Outside" of the nets and on the pilings, so there is no question of theft.

The bounty of the bay is available for all and as long as a man's livelihood is not disturbed, critters can be captured wherever they are found. Today, I am not so sure that this creed would still apply. Twenty minutes into the morning, the boat is gassed and live bait obtained, and it's off back north into the mouth of Swan Creek. As I enter the creek there are a half dozen poles buried in the creek bottom in a line off to the left between the inshore island and the end of Swan point. This is a rudimentary channel marked by one of the local watermen years ago and maintained by anyone who notices a pole askew. This is the hidden entrance to Tavern Creek. Not seen from the main shore line and not deep enough to be available to most boaters. Nature's hideaway. A tricky entrance to another world.

There is an old dock on the left as I quietly sneak into the creek. Still foggy. Not a ripple on the water as I paddle my little 14 foot pile of plywood over a barrier sand bar at the mouth of Tavern. The only sound in the stillness of the morning is an opportunistic splash against the shoreline. A large striper captures a bait fish frantically seeking sanctuary in the roots of the tall phragmites plants that line the shore.

Just past the little dock is a deep bend in the creek where the tides have created a little sandy beach below three or four scraggly old pine trees. Dark water and a deep drop off is a great place to cast a half peeler crab.

But first the angry "Crank---Crank" of a blue heron scolding my intrusion to his idyllic world. He will have to find another place to fish as I have taken over his domain.

The shore line ripples in the water left by the marauding striper and the departing blue heron slowly dissipate into the fog and quiet returns. I make my first cast into that dark water, hoping the striper will return that way and pick up on the scent of the crab. The only other sound is that of a red winged blackbird clinging on one of the stalks of grass deep in the marsh.

For the moment all is at peace on Tavern Creek.

The fifth day of the tenth month

2011-10-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-2

When you're fifteen or sixteen, you are invincible. A no brainer. Course, that's what my parents (rest their souls) said constantly. Some of the things you do are without the use of that thing between your shoulders.

My first boat, all mine, was about 14 feet long. A plywood, run-a-bout with two cockpits and a sixteen horse power Mercury outboard engine. I thought the thing flew, until I raced my buddy who had a 14 foot with a bigger engine. Immaterial-----I took that little thing all around the Chesapeake Bay over the course of about five years. When we bought the boat, it needed to be rebuilt. I did that, and think I really did my father proud. At least the thing floated and gave our posse in Gratitude water transportation. We almost flipped once in heavy water, had blue water coming over the bow, and never ran aground because all you did was get out and push. We did have a great respect for the Bay and what could happen to us, but we were teenagers..........what'ya want.

I guess we figured that if we got into trouble we'd just pull up on a beach or a pound net like this one and wait till somebody came looking for us. Great place to be a kid.

This is a view of the Eastern Shore of the bay from the mouth of the Chester River looking North. I always try to point the camera north because the colors are more saturated in that direction as opposed to the other three points of the compass. Tavern Creek is just inside the point of land off the bow of the sail boat. The water at this spot is probably around ten to fifteen feet deep, so we would have had a long swim if something went wrong. But we knew nothing ever went wrong!

The 4th day of the 10th month of Emergence

2011-10-04T06:46:00.000-07:00

MINDING THE ROOTS AT TAVERN CREEK-1

In 1954, life was good! I cannot remember which grade of school I was enduring, but I lived in a central Jersey commuter town and summered in a tiny village on the Chesapeake Bay. Literally on the bay, not one hundred feet away from a grass filled beach. The water was inhabited by blue crabs, white perch and the occasional striped bass. My father had decided that investment property in "Gratitude" was his own trip back to his formative years. Gratitude was and is the end of a road and part of a larger community called Rock Hall. A right hand turn at the end of MD. Rt. 20 is Lawton Avenue which runs for about a third of a mile along the bay and the mouth of Swan Creek. If one doesn't make the turn and some have not, there is a very wet end to the trip. Lawton Avenue is Gratitude, MD.

One creek west Swan creek and into the bay proper lies Tavern Creek, at that time protected by two islands. The islands were un-named and were most likely remnants of Swan Point itself. The small pieces of ground being created by erosion of that locally famous finger of land which protected the entrance to Tavern from persistent westerly winds.

This was my first published photograph, and a cover at that! Double click to read the article.

"Gratitude" was in the fifties nothing by a sleepy street inhabited by widow ladies, watermen and occasional summer resident. There were three marinas that catered to watermen (commercial fishermen) and the occasional sailor or pleasure boater. But primarily the water activity was limited to the fishermen of the day. And of course we kids. One of the radio stations in Baltimore nicknamed bay life as the "Land of pleasant living" and for the kids it certainly lived up to that reputation.

Back then dogs napped in the middle of Rt. 20, and you had to drive around them. Kids took their shoes off as soon as school was out, and didn't put them back on until new ones were purchased in the fall at the restart of school. Crabs could be caught with dip nets on about every third piling on all the docks. Thousands of ducks, geese and swan argued with each other in fall evenings. Local baseball games ended in fist fights if the home team lost. Sometimes even if the locals won, fights would break out because they were as much fun as the game itself. Pinball machines in local restaurants paid five cents a game won. We would travel around town all week with pockets bulging with nickels. Bags of carnival glass could be won at the annual carnival by pitching those same nickels. The Friday night movies were held in a hall with folding chairs as seats. And as kids we were all kicked out of the corner drug store and soda fountain, repeatedly. There were no red lights in town, only a blinker. The local cops would hide in the dump along Rt. 20 on Friday nights to catch out of towners speeding to their summer homes. Back then the area was a watermen's town (Roots).........today, a sailing mecca.

The third day of the tenth month

2011-10-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

Thinking of fall this morning as the temps have dropped to within 11 degrees of freezing. Huh!!!! Ok, it was only mid 90's last week.

Great Smokey Mountains.

Absolutely crystal clear day with low humdidity which I will spend in the garage pricing stuff for a garbage sale to be held here on the 15th. Oh, that's garage sale. I have pretty much retired from the outdoor show circuit and therefore will have a great deal of art, a circular matcutter, old photos, frames, framed photos, matted photos, tent, booth, you name it. So if you're within a thousand miles of us, it might be worth it to stop by. The operative word here is "CHEAP". A couple of antique things, some wooden boxes, a kitchen table, and if the price is right the kitchen sink. I am looking to sell stuff, so if you're near Cayce, SC..........come on down!

And this is just the start!

The First of Oct. of the year of Emergence

2011-10-01T08:03:00.000-07:00

Post Ambien!

I am not sure where nine months have gone since I first made the Emergence image on the first of January, but the year sure does fly by.

The big lake in New Hampshire, like all large bodies of water, can take on a personality all of it's own. Despite what residents, vacation goers, water skiers and fisherman would wish; weather is at the root of most of our outdoor experiences. If you think about it, skiers want snow, hikers want crystal skies and low humidity, boaters want smooth sailing, and fishermen? Well we are a crusty lot. And what we wish is often thought of as a little strange. Yes, eighty degree sunshine would be nice to sit on an open expanse of water and soak up the relaxation, musing about what could have been had the fish been biting. But on the other hand, a slight wind, cloudy skies, and a little rain is what we want for landlocked salmon fishing on the big lake. Yeah, I know bring on the brain surgeon. What we don't want the night before is a growing wind through the majestic pines of the big woods. It helps sleep, but!

When the wind blows all night long, it portends much of the same the next day. Wind actually whistles through the pines. It really does, the needles are the reed of that magnificent instrument called a pine grove or woods. The percussion section bangs away as the branches and trunks careen into each other. Wonderful to listen to and a mechanism which brings sleep on quickly, as long as the other five guys in the cabin are not snoring like chain saws. Different story there.

Sometime during the night a late April snow has fallen in the White Mountains, guaranteeing ample spring runoff.

The morning opens with waves breaking over the Summer House and we know that the day will be taken up with chores, reading, cooking, poker, and a personal hygiene day. Anything to kill the time when one can't fish. Cocktails out there tonight will be a wet affair.

Even by later afternoon the waves are still thundering over the small breakwater by the dock, and there is no relieve in sight. If it is blowing out the the Northeast, then we will have three days of this.

Did anybody bring their golf clubs?

The 30th of September of the year of Emergence

2011-09-30T08:41:00.000-07:00

When Ambien fails!

You know when it happens. Those nights, when all the TV and/or reading just doesn't work. The drugs of choice for we insomniacs won't touch it. What is it with our internal clocks. Or maybe, like myself, our small brains just try to work overtime and sleep comes only when there is an hour or two of night left. Figures! Murphy was truly an optimist.

I have found that often my memory (long term because short term is shot) can carry me back to things I find soothing. Well if not soothing, then something that can help me gain the unconsciousness I look for. For me that memory flash often revolves around photography, places I have been, or things I enjoy doing. Generally all of the above! Or in my case, it most likely was a past fishing trip. Such a catharsis often starts on the big lake in New Hampshire.

A number of times, when we put the lake to bed, there is no breeze blowing and a colorful sunset. Such conditions portend a upcoming morning ideal for small craft and the pursuit of such finny creatures that swim.

On nights like these the pines will hardly whisper and the hoots of the owls in the deep woods with reverberate with unerring pleads for a mate or at least a friend. The loons will bounce their haunting calls over flats expanses of water as if in an echo chamber. The Lord promises that the next morning will be like that of the first day he created.

However, a night wind whispering or roaring through the pines, will portend more of the same the next morning. Which in the spring means an extra cup of Pikes Place Roast (bless you Starbucks), extra layers of long underwear, sweaters, and gloves plus hats to cover the more delicate tools of the angler's trade.

We always leave the dock and head around the "Summer house" or the gazebo on the small point of land upon which the cabin complex is found. This is the eastern shore of the lake and as such will not show the light until the sun is at least an hour over the horizon.

The water is black along the shore, even though at noon we can see bottom ten feet down. At this time of day all is dark with a shoreline that offers mystery, hope, anticipation, and the feeling of being isolated with nature. The water brightens as we slip quietly offshore. Colors move from the black of night to a silver blue cast of a rising sun without the contaminants of pollution that create a bight and colorful sunrise. A hard blue, crystal clear sky promises a slight breeze and chop on the water in an hour or two. Until them we contend with a gentle start to the dahy and a flat lake that gives up her secrets with every ripple.

Oh my gosh! I think I am falling asleep!

The 29th day of the nineth month of Emergence

2011-09-29T05:21:00.000-07:00

Lonesome

The 28th of the ninth

2011-09-28T04:19:00.000-07:00

Just a teaser

THE 23RD DAY OF THE NINTH MONTH OF THE YEAR OF EMERGENCE

2011-09-23T05:27:00.000-07:00

"SEAGULL"

Since it has been raining here for the last day or so and has been cloudy for the better part of a week, I thought a beach scene would be appropriate.

This is truly the calm before the storm. Not a breath of air blowing across the ocean and still non threatening enough for people to still be on the beach. Or in my case in the water taking photographs. As soon as the first lightening showed up, it was time to get to more a protected place. But prior to that it is nice to just enjoy the almost electric calm of the air and watch the argument develop amongst the clouds. Double click for full screen.

The 21st day of the 9th month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-21T04:09:00.000-07:00

A hidden window in a hidden garden.

We go to the top of the mountain just to see what is on the other side. Same here?

The 20th day of the ninth month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-20T06:47:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's just me, but these guys are just as beautiful as the tigers I have photographed. Maybe it's the color orange or the brown. This guy is a yearling at the Riverbanks Zoo.

If you can only imagine the work it takes to get that face onto the ground to pull up a plant by the roots. They have to spread their front legs as wide as they can just to get their face in the dirt.

THE 19TH OF THE NINE

2011-09-19T06:50:00.000-07:00

Storm clouds seem to be all the rage now. I took this one in Maryland a year ago at my son's place in Warwick, MD. We were standing in his drive with the grandkids watching this thing approach. I remember his comment well. "Maybe we should head for the basement Dad!" Man it was tough leaving that thing to head for saftey. We had no problems, but I can now identify with those folks in tornado alley! Once again, I should have been a storm chaser! Next life!

Remember to double click for full screen.

The 17th of the 9th of the year of Emergence

2011-09-17T05:43:00.000-07:00

A lovely spot, too much glare, and a little photoshopping of the bright spots.

I just listed this great wall accent on FAA, see the link to the upper left of this page and remember to double click for full screen.

I found this little pond at the Riverbanks Zoo gardens the other day. It's hidden in a new area they are developing for kids. Only place that I have been able to find a common frog at the zoo. But, I thought the water lily had charm particularly with the background darkened to offer a metallic impression. The frog will have to wait for his ten seconds of fame.

The sixteenth day of the ninth month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-16T05:18:00.000-07:00

Sixty four degrees this morning for the first time since early spring. A chance to turn the AC off and open the windows. A nice breeze blowing in some rain a little later. Almost wants me to go out and split some wood and kindling for the winter. Almost! That was a different time, but it would be nice to spend a morning outdoors.

September always reminds me that fall is coming. The faint blush of color in the woods not unlike these trees at Valley Forge.

It used to be the first day of school. Always used to seem that Sept. 1 instantly got cooler. The first chilly morning like this morning. It was always still too warm to wear gloves to school, but one had to put one's hands in pockets while riding the bike. Just enough chill to make a young teenager too cold too early. Look Ma no hands!

The realization that the Ospreys have flown south, always on the fifteenth, like clockwork.

We'll be back to ninety degrees later next week, but this morning is pure nostalgia.

I expect to hear a flock of geese fly over or a frost warning from the weather channel. Of course they might not be able to find time to actually give the weather, but that is another of my pet peeves.

Perhaps tomorrow morning there will be some rhime ice around the big lake in New Hampshire, but probably too early even there. God, I remember the other end of winter up there when we went fishing for the landlocks. Some mornings so cold that we had to knock the frost off the seats of the boat and the guides on the fishing rods froze with water from the lines. But that too is another story. For today, I will just enjoy an atmospheric change that makes the mind drift.

The 15th day of the 9th month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-15T05:23:00.000-07:00

I remember well, a hundred years ago, that this day marked the second week of the new school year. Woke up to 68 degrees this morning for the first time since the spring and was well aware that the seasons are a changin.

Yesterday, instead of school and I really do wish I were that age again but knowing what I know now, I spent two hours at the Riverbank Zoo and Gardens. Specifically the garden. This time of year also brings about migrating butterflies and of course some resident stuff. It was kinda cool. No one was there and I had the place almost to my own self, as they say. The zoo is nationally renowned and the gardens are outstanding. Surpassed only by the Victorian gardens at the Hereford Inlet lighthouse in Anglesea, New Jersey. Remember to double click for full screen.

I loved the way the light played through the elephant ear!

A pair of Kimodo Dragons (actually a couple of lizards) running around an oriental display.

The water feature runs the length of the gardens.

A pair of grasshoppers.

A hidden window.

A place to rest.

And I found a swallow tail. Who knew, this was the reason to go in the first place!

The 14th day of the 9th month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-14T05:29:00.000-07:00

Talk about small business being vulnerable!

This man is a Chesapeake Bay Waterman, or commercial fisherman. Seen here he is readying crab pots for distribution in the bay. The boat in the foreground is actually a Tangier Island boat from Virginia while the background is Smith Island in Maryland. Both islands are accessible only by boat from the mainland.

While the rest of we small business must worry about product, creativity, employees, taxes, and government intrusion (control) these people must also worry about the acts of God things called Nature. They are constantly battling weather, long hours, and a production that is limited by not only their own energy but natural propagation of the species for which they fish. Throw on top of that about $100,000 worth of equipment and a gas cost that would choke a sheik----so it's no wonder crab prices at retail could reach $200 a bushel. So a tough job.

The 13th day of the 9th month of the year of Emergernce

2011-09-13T05:07:00.000-07:00

Fall is coming, the sunsets are becoming more like October and November than July and August.

Sixty six degrees this morning and crystal clear meaning the humidity is actually decent. A nice day till it reaches ninety again.

The 12th day of the 9th month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-12T05:11:00.000-07:00

Someone, before this day is out, is bound to ask me what I did on September 12 ten years ago.

Such a landmark day when everything in this country had changed. As I recall, I did not physically do anything. Mentally, well that may be another story. One I am not so sure I know how to put to paper, or on the computer now that paper writing is relegated to but a few who really know what they are doing. Today I try to arrange some thoughts regarding my own last ten years, how I view things through my meager words, and one of my photos. My remembrance of the 12th ten years ago was that my world was stormy with a weird light.

I was working (part time) at a menial job for a builder who was unable to trust anyone despite how hard they worked or how honest they were. I was one of the first unpublished antique pickers, auction sellers, and buyers at a local auction which is a book all of it's own. I was watching two wonderful kids build their families and was probably not as much a part of that as I should have been. I was making pictures that would occasionally sell at art shows, fairs, to publishers and kidding myself that I was not retired and doing all of this for profit and not just for fun. I never have been able to do things the easy way.

I had just spent an entire day in front of the television watching a few blocks of a city come apart at the seams. Wondering if any colleagues I knew had died. Knowing some had. I worked for 25 years within a block or two of that insane apocalypse. What could I do two hundred miles away other than to grow angry at those who caused what now is called simply nine eleven?

So I have learned to yell at the television news everyday. Learned to distrust, more and more, the politicians that the people of my country elect and send to Washington every year. They (the people) keep doing the same thing, getting the same results, but expecting more. I have stocked up on dried food in case of emergency, boxes of ammunition, and cases of bottled water. Most probably I will die of a stroke before I need any of that stuff.

But life is good!

In reality, we live in a country that offers individuals every chance to succeed. Well, if not succeed at least to live a decent life. We get the chance to screw up our own lives all by ourselves without outside influence. And some of us do a pretty good job of it. We are not Europe or Asia. We are the US and as such are the most blessed people on the planet. If only by birth. We are part of a system that actually works. The system needs to be tweaked a little bit every hundred years or so, but it is the best and most proven, productive system in the universe. In the long run everything is going to be just fine. I am only angry now that I am so dam old that I could not be part of a proactive defense of our system. I am sure I would have made a great James Bond, but now am only an aging Winston Churchill. Will someone please pass the cigars!

TEN YEARS LATER

2011-09-11T05:17:00.000-07:00

To those who gave their ultimate and their families..........We love you and pray for you!

We will never forget!

To those who continue to serve and protect....We thank you!

And to those who continue to wish us harm. It won't work....We got you, or if you persist will get you.

The 8th day of the 9th month of the year of Emergence

2011-09-08T05:31:00.000-07:00

I am in the mood for some steamed Chesapeake Bay blued crabs.

Course I would want them steamed to a nice red color, in a big pile on brown paper so they could be picked with a knife. And the mess just cleaned up by rolling up the trash in the paper. Followed by a shower cause I make a mess with a mess of crabs.

The 7th of the 9th

2011-09-07T05:03:00.000-07:00

Beach day for the Laborers!

We spent Monday, Labor Day, at Edisto Beach in South Carolina with about 150 of our newest and closest (?) friends of the moment.

Of course it rained, but that's OK.

While this is not part of Hurricane Irene, that storm did leave piles of sea shells all over the beach. Most of them were broken, but there were some serious "Shellers" there. We spent a lot of time digging through that which was left against this groin which goes out into the ocean in an attempt at maintaining the sand on the beach. One couple had a real operation going with shovels, screens, tables, and kept going rain or shine. I didn't stop to ask why the elaborate setup, but remember seeing people like them on Sanibel Island in Florida years ago. Serious collectors or commercial shell "Pickers". Have no idea which. Yes, we got rained upon and no Missy did not like the surf. Her first outing in the ocean and she was not impressed. As part border collie, she barked and talked to people who had the audacity to take their children into the surf. Certainly an unsafe undertaking in her mind. And what no proper parent should do.

She did get wet from the surf and also did not like the taste of the salt water. Remember to double click for full screen.

It was interesting to watch how people handled the rain. Some had elaborate beach umbrellas. Others like ourselves headed for the cars to wait out the heaviest of the rain. Others hung out at the park offices (State Park). And others just sat at their picnic tables and continued to eat soggy burgers and dogs. All in all a pretty good day. Love a rainy day at the beach, but then I've been called a masochist before.

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

2011-09-06T05:22:00.000-07:00

Well, there is this problem with birds. Particluarly those kept in captivity as pets. And particularly our bird, "Deuce". Because he's the second one, he gets that name.

But what about the third one? Tripp? Tre? Tray? Trey? Three? Tres? Thrip?

No of course not....."Hooty" because he looks like an owl and not a cockateal. Go figure!

Duece had be sent into exile at the bird store because of his constant screaming, so he had a two week vacation. Absolute bliss! Well, like in all May to September relationships he found a friend....Hooty. We got Deuce home and he seemed to be miserable, so back to the indideous bird store to get his friend and now we have two birds that frankly now can't stand one another.

Go figure! It must be September...Duh!

The fifth day of the ninth month

2011-09-05T07:54:00.000-07:00

Well, I have been delinquent. MIA. Writer's block. Lazy. Haven't written in a few days which has been duly noted by some of my more astute readers.

On Saturday past, day before yesterday, two days ago, we visited the local zoo for a feeding. No not us, but the baby Toucans born July 16th. These are the "Fruit Loop" birds. They have bills almost as big as their bodies.

Of course when one photographs through screening a coupled of things happen, both of which make the photograph almost worthless. But we keep doing the same thing over and over hoping for a different outcome. Yeah, I know what that means. Remember this is not my first attempt at being cute. As you can see when compared to the adult bird, the "Little" guys do not have the coloration of the adult and therefore do not qualify for the cover of a cereal box.

Different screen, same outcome! Mom or Pop. I don't know where to look on a toucan to tell the difference.

My labor day weekend on the blog is building and there will be more silliness to come tomorrow, but I leave you with an image of one of my favorite critters at the zoo.

Remember to double click on the image for full screen which actually does work a whole lot better on the elephant image because there is no screen.

The 28th day of the 8th month of the year of Emergence

2011-08-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

ANOTHER PINE ISLAND SUNSET

The 27th day of the 8th month of the year of Emergence

2011-08-27T10:44:00.000-07:00

AN UP SIDE TO HURRICANE IRENE

I made this image last night as Hurricane Irene passed to the east of us. Fortunately she missed by about a hundred plus miles, but left this spectacular sunset over Lake Murray, South Carolina. Double click for full screen.

tHE 21ST DAY OF THE 8TH MONTH OF THE YEAR OF EMERGENCE

2011-08-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

Another candidate for the second edition of THE THIRD i.

Tell all your artist friends!

The 19th day of the 8th month of Emergence

2011-08-19T06:13:00.000-07:00

CALLING ARTISTS

Can you work all or part of this image into one of your creations. Will it help you be more creative? This but one of many of my images on the upcoming Volume Two of THE THIRD i.

"Sky, Clouds, and Sunsets"

Or perhaps you would prefer----

Or another teaser-----------stay tuned and if you are working on a project and need a resource, just email me.

We went to our local "Avenues", a meeting of neighbors working to make the neighborhood better. We thanked all those who were instrumental in having our street repaved. It's actually an insidious way of creating more jobs and income for our town. You see, we now can drive at speeds up to 60+ mph in our little residential area without destroying the undercarriage of the vehicle. Sure it cost money to do it and sure it employed the people to clean, prepare, and pave the street making it a major through street. My suggestion was to have police strategically placed (like in our driveway) with speed traps. Man, there is nothing better than a newly paved road to test the legs of your new Prius or electric car. Or how about that new pre-owned Dodge Ram pick me up truck. Another suggestion i had was to put electrical outlets at each end of the street so that when the Chevy Volt runs our of juice we can charge to re-charge. Everybody makes money. I am just full of ideas to get this economy going again. Tickets and charging stations. Hide the kids honey......they done black topped the road!