The choices we make reflect our perception of change, rather than its substance.
I am changing my habit of posting several times a week down to once per week. My “About” home page has been edited to reflect why this is. Click to find out.
Hi all, I’m almost back. My injured person has family here and is also feeling better. I’m attempting to complete several projects related to farming in spring. I’ll begin posting on Monday. I plan to start reading what I’ve missed of those I follow, check out those who are new, or showing interested in the So-Journeys blog, over the next few days. Until then, Happy Tulips from the farm. [Click to see full screen and last one is just for fun.]
I know that I ended my last post with no more bear stories. Well, I just found bear tracks in the thin layer of dirt next to the big barn doors mentioned in the last post. Sooooo, I have tell a story that should have been in the last post. Forgot about it until this morning. It’s hilarious.
I was hiking in the Appalachian Trail in the Smoky Mountains with a friend. We ran into a group of six hikers taking a lunch break at a shelter. The Guy (don’t remember his name) had to share what happened that morning. The group was staying at the previous shelter about 15 miles away. It was late April and the bears were beginning to awake from their long winter slumber.
The group wasn’t together per say, just been meeting up off and on. They were all at the last shelter except the Guy. He came in late and there was no more room in the shelter for him to squeeze into. He pitched his tent in front and found a spot for his pack in the shelter where it would be safe from the bears.
All of the shelters in the Smoky’s have chain link fences across the front with a secre locking mechanism. The Smoky Mountains are a busy place for tourists, creating tension between man’s food supply and demands of the bears. A night in an open shelter makes for easy picking on the part of the bear.
The bear encounter for Guy took place in early morning. Guy rose early to head “nature’s” call. A bear came into the clearing heading for Guy’s tent. I guess the lack of food in the tent ticked off the bear. The amount of anger leads me to believe the bear was a female (being funny). She shredded his tent and Guy ran for the port a potty and locked himself inside. Well, being very disatisfied, the bear walked over to the port a potted grabbed and shook it. Guy fell to the bottom and braced his feet against the door to protect himself. One last shove left the port a potty on its side. Guy didn’t mind a bit. The bear ran off into the brush, most likely to find another victim just for spite.
Here are some photos of the bear tracks imprinted on a thin layer of dirt where work had been done for the driveway. Click on image to view full size.
I’m studying Casco Bay’s geological history. Willard Beach is my latest exploration.
Willard beach, South Portland reveals two types of bedrock and the forces that created them. I sit, observe and listen. The spine like protrusions and scattered eroded pieces reveal much without a single sound or the slightest of movement.
Enjoy the slideshow created from photos I snapped at Willard Beach toward Fort Preble. Clear your mind and connect with what you see. The images are more than just a bunch of rock. There are stories within stories throughout all time. I’m glad to be a part of the history of this space.
I spent a weekend in Portland, Maine while being AWOL. I’m not much on cities but if I had to live in one then Portland, Maine would be the place. I’ll say no more, just share some photos. Have a great weekend all and Happy Mother’s day too.
I’m away right now so not readily availabe to the internet. However, I do have a moment now and the best thing I have is the battle for sanity, Randolph NH.
It has snowed three mornings in a row. Yep, warm days and snow almost all gone. Bam! honey I’m back. No, no, no, curtains close and blanket over my face. I’m not getting up. I’m not getting up. Curtain open, hmm. Still there and I have to get up. How reality tempts us to change its very nature.
p.s. I’m in Cape Elizabeth, Maine where the grass IS greener.