photography from the Chesapeake Bay watershed by Bill Emory
The great grand-daughter and the great-great grand-daughter of the lady who built my house visited last night.
They visit partially for love of place and because they value a tradition where tales are told to succeeding generations of preceding generations.
Who will tell your story?
Who will give a tinker’s dam.
Gray’s birthday party in the basement.
On the way to Dividing Creek we pass this store. Old style. Organic. Presumably grew in response to the needs of the local population and the owners. Forty years ago “country stores” were prevalent, nowadays there is the WalMart.
I’ve been snapping a Thanksgiving picture for years. There were twenty people in the photo today but only seven repeats from twenty years ago. Whither the absent?
They are covered up, moved on, elsewhere, otherwise engaged and alone. For better and for worse.
The missing are all missed.
I was sitting on an 8×10′ concrete slab during the seismic event yesterday. The concrete was moving, unsettling to have the frame of reference dance. The epicenter 29.5 miles from here. But happily, there were no injuries locally. Yellow jackets caused more pain than did the largest Virginia earthquake in a century. We are fortunate.
Good fortune is always temporary.
my mom said it would be nice if there were telephones to heaven.
During WWII, before my father deployed, my parents moved all over the US. Today, my mom is changing address again, 2nd time in 7 months. She rangers on, I long for the stability of the homes she created.
My dad died twenty-one years ago this weekend. For years afterward I didn’t like spring. I like spring now.
I am trying to find out the sculptor for this statue, it is next to the river in Providence. My sister walked me out to see it the end of last October, it was a particular favorite of hers.
Walking her domain, through the Zelkovas, then down in the river.
