no 'lion'

prowling around boston was a roaring success

brattcat's on the prowl again

hobble here, wobble there

i feel like a newborn kid

i'll be away for a few days

meeting up with some CDPB friends in boston.

can't wait.

soon you will have two working legs again, be patient,

whispered the twin daffodils

brought by sandie right after my accident

this river flows

through windows

goose music

the arrival of spring can no longer be doubted

when geese start honking overhead

in a mist of maple

steam rising from the evaporator stiffens the clothes

but sweetens the lips

1022

sap buckets wear their easter bonnets

our breath usually vanishes

instantly, we exhale and...poof.

but the breath captured inside this ball has swirled in its plastic cocoon

through an entire winter

if ice melts in the forest

and no one is there to hear it

does it still go 'drip, drip, drip'?

each stone could tell

of the farmer's hand, of his scent,

of the sound of his breath whistling in his nostrils,

of the way he straightened when he heard his wife

coming toward him through the spring woods

stories waiting to unfold:

at sandglass theatre

puppets practice the art of patience

on a mild march day

fay girls

flit

around late winter

puddles

i want to thank you all for sticking with me through these archived images.

i'm definitely improving but i don't know when i'll be able to get out and shoot fresh photos.

please know that your comments are all so appreciated.

some of you make me laugh, some of you make me blush,

some of you do both ( :

in winter, while balancing on a milk can,

does farm equipment dream

of turning fields of green?

lonely little swings singing

when will it be spring?

i'm not butting in am i?

have you ever owned a goat?

tucked into a sleeve of woods

this little blue addition peeks shyly out, yearning to be appreciated

i have learned from eric tenin many things

one of which is that it's okay to tilt the camera

THANK YOU, ERIC, FOR INSPIRING US ALL!

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as hard frost rises through the warming earth

mud

lifts its ham-handed extremities

to paint tires and boots a slurpy brown

the deep gears of the farm

begin the slow shift toward spring

white door

contemplating the secret of success

a congregation of roofs

intoxicated by sunlight and shadow

sun poured in

and the room blushed like a praised teenager

on the doctor's front porch

this tender scene awaits patients

this old house thursday: white ark

if you're quiet you can hear the family inside padding around in their stocking feet

no padding around for me (though i am in stocking feet).

the healing has been slow, the pain ferocious

but your comments, your kindness, your humor, your images motivate me to hobble

to the computer each day. thank you!

bridge over whetstone brook

this wee brook prances and cavorts through town.

who needs to walk when you can eat sharon myers' carrot cake?

thank goodness i was still on my feet the day of this party.

if, right now, i could eat the food served that evening,

i would be floating on a cloud of gustatory ecstasy

theme day: a passageway

leading up the hushed stairway of snow into a loft of white dreams

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