rings of eternal strength

Friend, artist, and current Berkeley Springs neighbor* Michael Gotwald gave me two iron hoops he no longer needed for the wheels for his non-existent buggy.  I buried the bigger one in the meadow and mowed a fairy ring around it.

The smaller one is suspended at the end of the porch, creating a visual hook but not a barrier. Inside it is a small element of fired clay.

*His sweet place on Hageman Street is for sale.

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after the party

 

These are the white objects in the house the morning after a great party. Now I am sixty years old.

wilds of West Virginia

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If you think these are not wild carrots, please do not let me know until tomorrow, after they have been sauteed in butter and eaten.

the past is prologue

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William moves on in the Berkeley Springs renovation, last weekend tearing down bedroom walls with the intent of putting up better ones. Soon.

There on the electrical box is a chunk of plaster from the demo — hidden under paint, wallpaper and paneling — that happens to match the bathrobe on the goose painting in the kitchen up there.

Coincidence? or just spooky?

photo by me, October 2015

surely we are in the end times

Black is white; white is black – you decide (see Dolezal).

Two murderous escapees are headed for Zihuatenejo North, or somewhere, without a trace, the homeland less secure, from within.

And yesterday, this actually happened:  In a local outpost of the House of Capitalism (Charles Schwab) – the speaker praised a “prominent official” for championing raising the Social Security cap from $118K to $250K: one Bernie Sanders, Socialist of Vermont.

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photo of Sanders lifted from somewhere

go with “funny” — marital advice, should you need some

The little creature in the panda shirt here is my niece, Frances, and I could not be more delighted about that.

When Fei-Fei found out that friend Laura isn’t married (wearing no ring, as Mommy does), she suggested that she marry Pee-wee Herman, because he is funny.

Just when you needed something to feel good about.

Photo by Dwight Swanson, May 2015

if all you have is a hammer, all the world is a nail — adapted for coffee beans

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In this case of “Oops — bought the beans, forgot the grinder,” the carpenter went for his hammer.  The coffee beans had a certain robust texture.

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It reminded me of our first outing together to the house in Chincoteague, also, with no real provisions.  Rustling about the cupboards, he saw that a cornmeal muffin mix might be just fine with a can of Mandarin oranges, with the syrup, and it was.  I saw a creative and functional man.