Tag: writing
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The worm in my cellar
[Source: Google search.] Check the worm. ~~My father commenting to my older brother, Chris on any given winter evening in the 1950s and 70s. For many years I lived with a worm in the cellar of my family home. But I feel confident that it’s not the kind of worm that you are imagining, my…
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Freezing the moment
[Niagara Falls during a rare winter when it froze. This is probably 1907 or so. Photo: Google search.] The most beautiful moments always seemed to accelerate and slip beyond one’s grasp just when you want to hold onto them for as long as possible. ~~E. A. Bucchianeri But meanwhile, time flies; it flies never to…
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I hate spandex
[This is one of my casual socks after I took a small pair of scissors to it. You know the kind of scissors I mean. The ones with the strange curve that seems to have no purpose. Yes, it was an intentional act done by myself and well within the realm of reason. Photo is…
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Budapest to amsterdam: IV The stumbling Stones of Bamberg
Bambergers bragged about it being as important as Rome, saying their city also had seven hills ~~Never Stop Traveling I was in Bamberg on June 10. I’m writing this on June 11 from the city of Würzberg, more than a day upstream from Bamberg. Two day ago, June 9, we spent the day in Nuremberg.…
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Budapest to amsterdam III: A passing moment-a very human connection
[A photo taken a few minutes after the described ‘encounter’. These are not the young women I saw. But I’m including this to give a visual of what I’m conveying. Photo is mine.] Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing… Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and…
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nightcrawlers & blue lights at river’s edge
Outbreaks of unvarnished truths in the backyard of our true self can be very precious and inspiring, even though we might inconsistently be tempted to give in to the exhilarating perfume of fables and fair tales or to flattering praise and fiction. ~~Erik Pevernagie I’m in a cemetery standing under a silver maple tree. It’s…
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Kicking Leaves in Owego: my imaginarium
[On the left, in the distance, just beyond the white house, just hidden in the morning fog, is the riverbank where I played away my childhood. Photo is mine.] Great Grandpa, what’s an Imaginarium? Oh, Great Grandson, it’s like a rambling and cluttered room, an old room, a very big room. There are lots of…
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the four green fields blog14: the goddesses of the moon
[Unenhanced photo of the moon. Sailing west, looking south. The North Atlantic Ocean. Photo is mine.] Whenever people look at clouds they do not see their real shape, which is no shape at all, or every shape, because they are constantly changing. They see whatever it is that their heart yearns for. ~~Eduardo Agualusa, A…
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the four green fields blog8: a few bumps in the road
[Standing in the English rain, waiting for the sun. The author standing near the entrance of the Natural History Museum, London. Photo taken by Mariam Voutsis.] The scientific theory I like best is that the rings of Saturn are composed entirely of lost airline luggage. ~~Mark Russel Slainte, Ireland. Allow me, gentle reader, to add…
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the four green fields blog7: Confessions of a flawed traveler
[Redwood Castle, Lorrha, Co Tipperary, Ireland. Photo is mine.] So, are ye staying the night? ~~Coleesa Egan My last blog post, No. 6 in my series. Oh, my last post from nearly a week ago. What can an honest man say about my determination to spend the night in my ancestral castle, reputed to be…
