The Bunny

The office of my day job is located in a reclaimed strip mine. What was once spoiled land is now a virtual wildlife preserve on the edge of the city. This little bunny lives raises it’s family on our parking lot. Every morning she can be seen munching on the clover with her brood. I wouldn’t say that she’s tame but she is accustomed to the presence of humanity. She actually allowed me to get pretty close for this shot. She had developed a little bit of trust in the workers who came to hwr home every day. Trust is a very fragile quality for as soon as I moved she took off like nobody’s business. I’ll continue to watch her and her babies and who knows, perhaps one day she’ll trust me enough to get even better shots.

Curing Monday Face

I have a confession to make. I’ve spent all day today wearing my “Monday Face”. It’s been one of those days where you want to be productive but it seems like the universe is flowing in the wrong direction. I once heard a survival instructor say that hiking in the Amazon was like being on a treadmill that’s raised to its highest level while people throw rocks, sticks and mud at your boots. I’m certain that he thought that up on a Monday. Its on days like this that I long to escape into the mountains for a little peace and quiet. It was on such a day that I found the Trillium pictured above. These are early spring flowers that start off as a deep maroon and fade to a pure white. It is as if the the flower mellows out over time. Just looking at the photo gives me sense of peace. I can almost smell the moss on the forest floor and feel the breeze. A quiet moment in nature is the perfect cure for “Monday Face” even if it was enjoyed digitally.

I Want To Be Like Dad

I remember wearing my dad’s work boots when I was a little kid. The tops his boots came to my knees. I clopped around the house carrying his big lunch box which I had filled with Little Debbie’s Snack Cakes telling people that I was going to work. I could barely stand up in dad’s boots. My dad taught me to work hard. He was a telephone lineman and I can remember times when the phone would ring in the middle of the night. A storm had brought down the lines on some windy ridge and dad would be called out with his partner to restore service. In the days before mobile phones a downed line could be a matter of life and death for people with health issues. As I began to grow I became obsessed with the day I would be as tall as dad. I would beg him to stand back to back with me so mom could compare our height. It was dad who first taught me hunt. I can still see him knelt down on the old logging road pointing out the difference between buck and doe tracks. As the years passed my dad imparted a lot of the attributes that make me who I am today. And, even though I’m several inches taller than he is I still can’t fill his shoes.

Sweet Summertime

One of my favorite things about summertime is the blackberries. I have fond memories of finding a patch of ripe berries during long hike on a hot summer day. The wild blackberry is collected and brought home by the bucket load. June and July is cobbler season. Often a wonderful Sunday dinner is followed by the extra special treat warm cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. The berry grows on a cane lined with thorns. I’ve created all sorts of contraptions in attempts to pick the berries but I seem to come home looking like I’ve been wrestling a wildcat. Sometimes the sweetness is worth the pain. A few years ago I found a patch that been mashed down in the center. I cautiously entered the patch. Something to remember when collecting blackberries is to keep your ears open for the velvet tailed glow worm. (An old-fashioned term for the Timber Rattlesnake). Satisfied that no venomous serpent was close by I began picking. I started at the top of the canes and worked my downward. I had about a half of a bucket when I suddenly realized why the berry patch had been mashed down. Do you know that old saying about what a bear does in the woods? You know, the cliche that sells toilet paper? Yeah, that one. Well, they seem to do it in the berry patch as well. In fact, as I looked around I saw that they do that a lot in the berry patch. At full alert now I finished filling my bucket before the bear came back for a second helping. Today I manage a small patch on the edge of my property. Bear free of course.

A Love Well Lived

I will never forget your smile. I’ll never forget your kind words when my world was falling apart. When the load was heavy you were quick to lend a hand. So many times when the light was dim and land was gray you sat down and shared your true colors. The joy you gave you placed directly into our hearts and we will carry it with us to the end.