A Bend In The River

One Chapter Ends, Another Begins

2006-12-15T15:44:00.000-05:00

As the year 2006 winds down,
I find that the focus is changing,

New solutions are appearing,
and new spaces are required.

I have moved to another address, at

A Vision Of Unity

and even now, new photos are
arriving at this space, more

of a gallery than a blog, as
comments are not enabled.

Please visit, and if you would like
to comment, or sign the guest book,

click on the link there to email me.

Squares in Color - Nine

2006-12-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

we seek in terms of beauty
what we have always known,
and guide ourselves accordingly
to the place that we call home.

The Sea

2006-11-25T15:32:00.000-05:00

The sea can be a furious
lover, whipped to frenzy,

But I have seen moonbeams
sliding across this bay
on a smooth mirrored pane,

and at night, the surf
whispers in my ear.

A Runner

2006-11-18T13:22:00.000-05:00

As Thanksgiving approaches,
I am so aware that we have
so much to be thankful for.

Life does not always deal to us
the hand we would like to have.

Sometimes we are shocked
at what is happening, or at
what others might be doing.

Other times we may make
monumental mistakes.

But in the end, the sun sets,
and then the sun rises,
and we have a brand new day.

A friend once told me that
her coach advised her to

"get comfortable with being uncomfortable,"
and it wasn't just about her running.

Nets

2006-11-12T14:05:00.000-05:00

think of me,
where the summers
get caught
in the warm sun,
when the sun
gets caught
in my old nets.

Squares In Color - Eight

2006-11-04T11:47:00.000-05:00

When i was young, i realized all roads
on Turtle Island are connected.
That is, every road leads to another.

You can't get lost, or at least,
you can always turn around, and go back.

But as i grow older, i see that some roads
are more sacred than others, and on some roads,
there is no turning back

Squares In Color - Seven

2006-10-29T13:49:00.000-05:00

The Lord gives us a certain purchase,
a place to start,
and what we make of it
is our our doing,
yet, if i am smart
i will bend and twist my plans,
to reach the Lord's Guiding Light.

One Last Gift

2006-10-20T17:43:00.000-04:00

this time of year the colors
around the next corner
are breath taking.

so fragile, this gift that the
leaves make,
before they fall to the earth.

Squares In Color - Six

2006-10-15T15:41:00.000-04:00

Only a few have the audacity
to use all of their own resources,
and the skills to identify and tap
all their talents.

Racing

2006-10-07T12:57:00.000-04:00

Too often in this world
I am racing about, hurrying
from one location to the next,
fearful of being late,

and having to make connections,
or meet important people.

And the highways are filled with SUVs
that would overtake and crush me,
as they dash towards their
peaceful vacation destinations.

Often, it seems, hurrying
is such a waste of time.

But there is something different about
running with a pack of friends and
allies, when the wind whips your hair,
and the path goes through the woods.

A Clown Is Lost

2006-09-30T14:57:00.000-04:00

We like to think that we know where we are going,
and what is going to happen to us,
but sometimes even a clown has to stop, and ask the way.

Squares In Color - Five

2006-09-24T15:26:00.000-04:00

Were it not for God's bounty,
what kind of world would we find,
when we walk out the door?

Squares In Color - Four

2006-09-17T10:14:00.000-04:00

Sara, Ida, Mother, Father.
Those are the names on four small stones
in a cemetary by Northwood Lake,
where nature wraps the bones in earth.
Undisturbed, nearby, the trunk of a masssive
black walnut tree lies resting on the ground.

Squares In Color - Three

2006-09-09T10:24:00.000-04:00

the days just march along and

what was once an anticipated moment
becomes a blur in real time
that fast fades into memory.

and the marching days continue
as dreaded days and warmly
welcomed days each take a turn.

the present is here as our perpetual guest
a seabird leaping from the chalk cliff,
a wave dissolving in the sand.

Squares In Color - Two

2006-09-03T00:47:00.000-04:00

What a day the Lord has made!
Wonderous colors, awesome events,
and endless drama,
if we know where to look.

Squares In Color - One

2006-08-29T11:41:00.000-04:00

Abby commented recently on her blog that the people who have appeared in these images, have been unnamed, mysterious. Actually, what she said was ...

"Sometimes, we post these entries and people want to know more. I know I read others' blogs and feel that way sometimes. What happened to that shrubbery Jerry crashed into? What is Buddha cooking for the meditation retreaters? Who shaved Interstellar Lass's husband's head? And then there's g - who are those people in his photos?!"

And Presence recently sent me a link to the the photos of Marc Adamus on Photo.Net. His pictures don't have any people at all. There are so many ways to do photography.

If you are interested, the link to Marc's story is here:

http://www.photo.net/shared/community-member?user_id=1353935

And the link to some of his work is here:

http://www.photo.net/photodb/member-photos?include=all&user_id=1353935

Very stunning pictures. His goal is to make you go Wow! And I think he has achieved his goal. My goal is a little different.

And my goal when I started this blog was to show some of the pictures that have tagged along with me, in this journey through life. Or images I have just made. I like to think that these images tell a story. And that the story changes depending upon who is looking at the picture.

Jana has been very good at capturing some of the possible stories, but everyone who sees these images is free to contruct or imagine their own. I'm not sure it would be helpful to know who the people are. In the case of today's image, I don't know. They were part of the beach and the boat and the setting sun, on the day that all of our paths crossed.

So please, you don't need to leave a comment, but take some time to imagine your own story here. If you feel like sharing it, that would be fine too.

The Carpenter's Wood

2006-08-19T23:52:00.000-04:00

What do we have

to make our way in the world,
to right the wrongs,
to build a life.
to raise our young,

but
Your love,
my hands,
and the Carpenter's wood.

Purification

2006-08-12T12:51:00.000-04:00

Clean
by Jana

David said:
“Wash me thoroughly
from mine iniquity,
and cleanse me
from my sin.”

Today I find myself
looking down
at his dusty sandals
on my own feet.

Thousands of years apart
yet still the same

Lives
coated with dust
left over
from sins committed
righteousness neglected

Hearts
wishing for another chance
praying to be purged
longing to be washed

Clean
refreshed
washed with the purist of water
that only He can supply.

Temptation

2006-08-06T11:02:00.000-04:00

what voices are these
that tempt me to lose sight
of all my goals,

and prompt me
to forget to practice
compassion and kindness;

and what are they holding
in front of me
that is more precious than peace?

Pool Of Regret

2006-07-30T12:59:00.000-04:00

Regret
by Jana

Regret is a dark well hidden deep within my soul.

A still, quiet place, I find myself plunged there in the most unexpected times. A documentary on archeology, a handshake with an elderly man, a hug from a friend. Sudden memories pull me down into the depths of regret. “What could have been” becomes a weight, attaching itself to my soul. “What if,” “should have,” and “if only,” echo through the waters as I feel myself sinking lower.

Floating in and out of consciousness, a fleeting image appears. For a single moment, I see a future. Lives I can still impact, truths I can pass on, and damages I can yet undo pass before my eyes.

As the first buoyant glimmer of hope enters my soul, I feel my body floating to the surface. Dreams for the future are a knife, cutting off the weight of regret. Visions of what can still be, endue me with the strength to swim to the shore.

Walking again on the dry land, I look behind me. The pool of regret remains.

Still filled with thousands of memories, it endures, unchanged through my survival.

As I hike away, my steps begin to lighten. I smile to myself, filled with potential, and determined to live this day to it’s fullest. Past mistakes can never be completely forgotten, but the future may be lived in such a way as to spawn no new regrets.

Birds In Flight

2006-07-23T08:22:00.000-04:00

you know, there are all these things that we

propose
push forward
intend
decide to do

and then there are all the things that just happen to us,

are seemingly providential gifts
or uninivited disasters.

somehow a person just arrives
or an event unfolds.
some thief steals your bag.

on the street, someone smiles
and says hello.

we like to think that we know where we are going,
and what is going to happen to us.

how do you suppose the birds make their decisions,

find their way
cooperate
reach a common goal, and
enjoy their destinations.

The Hunters

2006-07-16T00:27:00.000-04:00

The Hunters
by Jana

Before the sun awakens,
They rise from their beds

Silently, they prepare
Creeping out of houses
As their wives and children sleep.

They meet in a driveway
Wearing their camo
Carrying their guns.

Leaving his house
Walking to the woods nearby
They talk quietly.

Soon they arrive.
They find a trail in the grass
Made by animals who were hunting too.

Hours pass.
They see the sun rise over the trees
As the wind gently rustles the leaves.

Some days they walk home joyously
Planning how they will cook the prey.

Other mornings they return to his house
empty-handed.

But in the stillness of the woods
Far from the weighted cares of life
Surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature
Hunters everywhere have always found
What they truly search for.

The 4th Of July Parade

2006-07-09T11:36:00.000-04:00

Firetrucks. Clowns and Jugglers. Face Painting. Decorated Bicycles. Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts.

The Little League Baseball Team. The Morris Dancers. Cotton Candy.

Mr Ryan on rollerblades, costumed as a pilot AND a World War One fighter plane with a real propeller. Live animals.

Dancers on stilts. A towering float with five bearded members of an ancient Brass Band. And the entire class from Milly's Day Care Center riding on a flatbed truck.

For a young child, there is nothing like a small town, 4th of July Parade.

The Harpoon Brewery Road Race

2006-07-01T17:51:00.000-04:00

Some events in life just happen. There is little publicity, and no headlines.

There are no eyewitness news accounts afterwards. No awards. Just genuine satisfaction.

I stumbled upon one such event last year, during the summer, and vowed this year to attend. To witness, if not join as a participant.

Every year now, in June, it seems, a group of people gather, plunk down a bit of coin, and bicycle one hundred and thirty two miles from Boston, uphill to Windsor, Vermont.

The coin is necessary to supply the tents at the fifty and one hundred mile mark with drinks and nutrients, and to pay for the portable facilities.

It is said that the event began when a group of triathalon people decided to bicycle from Boston to Windsor as a training exercise, and each year, more and more people asked to join. This year there were between three hundred and four hundred folk, men and women. All in excellent shape.

It's not exactly a race, although each participant appeared to have several elaborate timing devices on the handlebars. More of a training jaunt.

Talk about the bikes. These are top of the line machines, some hand built, with pencil thin tires and the weirdest pedals you'll ever see.

Maybe ninety five percent of the entries were clicking in. The shoes have craters in the soles, which click into small knobs that represents the pedals. That gives you power on both the down and the up strokes.

My son went around the rest area, listening for the riders to "click out" as they came streaming into the stop at the one hundred mile refreshment tent.

Graffiti

2006-06-24T21:10:00.000-04:00

Graffiti
by Jana

I see graffiti often as I drive. Many times I see it on run-down buildings, fences, or on trains as they pass by. Each time I’m amazed at the talent that graffiti requires, and at the amazing things it portrays.

They always inspire me, these artists. No degrees on their walls “prove” that they are qualified. They may be teenagers just trying to find their place in the world, or adults who have been forced to drop their art to pursue “real jobs.” But still, they can never let their art die. A train stopped on the tracks, or a dark abandoned alley, prove to be too much temptation.

So they grab their paint, and within just a few minutes they change the entire landscape around them. Broken down houses and fences become their canvases. Black freight cars are transformed by silver and white lettering. Pale concrete walls come to life as pink and blue designs fill their spaces. And their art proves once again, that in even the darkest of situations, one determined life can dramatically change the world around it.

Father

2006-06-17T19:47:00.000-04:00

An image of g. (in his father's lap) and family.

Being a father is probably the most challenging thing a man can do.

There is no roadmap. No manual to read.

What you learned from your Dad is problably not going to be enough to carry you through.

There will be mistakes, and gross errors, and times when you want to set the clock back, and try some conversation again, or do the week, or the month, or the year, differently.

There are times when you kick yourself for not being there, to prevent a fall,

And times when you don't know what to say, or what to do,

And there are times when you are so filled with pride, and wondrous awe, at the child before you, and are struck with amazement that this will, in some way, work out well, after all.

A Bouquet

2006-06-11T08:01:00.000-04:00

In late May and early June, a sea of yellow faces spreads across the lawn.

The bee will gather its pollen, a vital source of protein for the new brood.

The diligent gardener, seeing the invasion of Taraxacum, will attack the plants with hand tools, digging out the long taproot where possible.

My son hands me a bouquet, he has picked himself, his eyes shining with hope and love. A gift.

The House

2006-06-04T08:48:00.000-04:00

The House
by Jana

As I slowly drove down the road, I took a deep breath. Coming back home to the small town where I spent my first twelve years of life had taken some major courage on my part. I'd driven into town, and marvelled at the changes that had been made. I visited the little general store that served as the local grocery, restaurant, and movie rental. I was amazed at all the renovations they'd done, but had to smile when I saw the same farmers seated at the same table they'd sat at fifteen years ago.

And now, I was on my way home. Not to the little house in the city where I lived, but to the remains of the house where I'd lived growing up. The house where friends and family gathered for dinners, card games, and even to "camp out" in our back yard for weekends. I'd once loved that little house, just the right size for my parents and I.

As I turned into the driveway, I couldn't help but gasp! Everything was so SMALL! The yard that once seemed to stretch for miles was no bigger than a city block! And the house! How had we all fit into such a small space?

A small part of me was sad as I got out of my car and walked toward the old house. I'd heard the house was falling down now, but seeing it for myself was so different. I walked up to the front door, and tears begin to roll down my face. Inside the house, everything had begun to fall down. What looked like insulation hung from the roof, and the nasty yellow carpeting had been rolled up on the floor. Some of the beams had even fallen from the ceiling in my parents bedroom. The door to their room had been fallen off, and laid on the living room floor. My bedroom door was still attached and upright, and as I carefully walked across the floor, I wondered what I'd see as I opened the door. I hesistated as my hand reached for the knob. Would there be anything left?

I opened the door, and looked at the room I'd spent so many days of my childhood. This room had survived much better than the rest of the house. I leaned down, staring at the same dark blue carpet that had been on the floor since they day we moved in. Now dust and rubble covered it here and there, but my hands lovingly touched it anyhow. I moved to the closet, remembering the many days I hid inside it, reading a book when I was supposed to be cleaning.

I slowly left the house, trying again to hold back tears. Good memories had happened here, but so many other memories of this place were not good at all. Memories of abuse had taken place here. Angry voices had filled the rooms, threats and horrible insults still echoed through the rooms. Here I'd spent some of the scariest days of my life. I'd spent the last four years in that house trying to find any possible way to escape from it's walls. We'd planned to run away, my friend and I. We told each other that we wanted to go to California and be movie stars. But I saw in her eyes a sadness, a longing. Our grand dreams conceiled two small broken hearts, wanting desperately to find someplace safe to grow up.

As I looked back at the ruins from my car, a small part of me was glad that soon this house of so much pain would no longer stand. The walls that held so many secrets would provide a fertile place for grasses to grow. The floor where so many tears had fallen would soon have small trees growing up through it's cracks. The earth would reclaim this house, and it's ruins would finally become a safe place for new life to grow.

Taps

2006-05-28T10:29:00.000-04:00

Taps

Fading light dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar drawing nigh --
Falls the night.

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.

Then good night, peaceful night,
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright,
God is near, do not fear --
Friend, good night.

Composed By Major General Daniel Butterfield
Army of the Potomac, Civil War

Tombstone

2006-05-21T11:43:00.000-04:00

Tombstone
by Jana

Tombstone so hard and cold
Tell me what secrets do you hold?
Warm lives represented here,
Seem forgotten, no one sheds a tear.

But words worn away with age and wind
Can't hide the lives buried deep within.
What was your life like, way back when?
Did you love? Were you hurt? Did you love again?

The stones on your sides, anonymous too,
Were they ones you loved, people special to you?
Did you build your life nearby?
When others passed on, did you come here to cry?

Or were you once, the one standing near,
Wondering and dreaming, about the lives resting here?

Mother

2006-05-14T10:02:00.000-04:00

Here is a sweet poem I found that was ascribed to anonymous, but in one version it was credited to Regina Hill.

MOTHER

I appreciate the many prayers
you've whispered
during the worst moments in my life,
and the many hopes for my success
in all that I dreamed of.

I appreciate the kind wishes
that would make me so happy and fulfilled,
and the gentle words of encouragement
that were meant to strengthen my quests.

I appreciate the moments of sorrow
you experienced during my failures,
and the little gestures of kindness
that always made me feel better.

I appreciate your acceptance,
your ability to understand,
and the sincere friendship
that always gave me such security.

I appreciate the wisdom
of all the lessons you taught,
and the meaning
behind the words "unconditional love."

I appreciate all you've done -
every word and gesture.
I know you've been the best there is -
a mother beyond all compare.

For all you've done...
thank you, Mom.
For all that you are...
I love you.

Crocus

2006-05-07T11:52:00.000-04:00

Crocus
by Jana

Green
A bud timidly emerges
Growing from the spring rains
Shielding the fragile flower
Growing within it's chest

White
Hope bursts from the bud
Fragile petals emerge
Lifting the heavy spirits
Of all who see

Spring, 2006

2006-05-01T07:07:00.000-04:00

2006-05-01T07:05:00.000-04:00

Spring is a time of rebirth and new beginnings, of hope and change. I thought I would take this opportunity to make a change.

Instead of posting pictures at random intervals, I thought I would post one picture each week, on Sunday night, or early Monday morning.

And since I so much enjoyed the commentary Jana posted on the last image, I would like to continue in that tradition. That is, post a poem or short narrative with each image. If anyone else is interested in collaborating on this, please let me know. And Jana I hope to hear from you soon on anything you can contribute.

Spring, 2006

by g.

Bubbling waters, from the melt
find their way past roots and rock
looking for the sea.

The deer and I both stop,
for a little moss-sniffing.

Spring Break Report

2006-04-18T14:25:00.000-04:00

Reporting from Sunny Florida - I found a Denny's with a high speed connection, so perhaps I can visit some of my favorite blogs during lunch.

But I will be unable to post images while on break. My hope is that Jana and I might collaborate on more image-poem, or image-narrative combinations.

We shall see! Expect something here by May 1st.

Spring Break

2006-04-12T09:20:00.000-04:00

With Easter approaching, I thought I would take a Spring Break, taking a short break from work, and from posting here at The Bend In The River.

This has been a wild ride and I truly appreciate everyone's support.

Particular thanks go out to Jana, who supplied the poetry for the last post, Boyhood.

Please check back after Easter, or take some time to look through the archives.

I expect to be returning to post new images, by May 1st.

Boyhood

2006-04-10T22:31:00.000-04:00

Boyhood
by Jana

Long bike rides
Hikes through the woods
Treehouses and forts

First crushes and loves
Dirty faces from play
Snowballs and mud fights

Suntanned skin
Catching fish
Throwing spitwads

Four wheelers
Wading in a stream
Sweating in the sun

Rides in the back
Of a pickup truck
Full of cousins

Swimming in the creek
Catching snakes
Teaching the pup to hunt

Home-made waterslides
Tire swings
Climbing trees

Panning for gold
Camping in the backyard
Hiding from little sisters

Creating a bonfire
Roasting marshmallows
Browning hot dogs

Learning respect for nature
Exploring abandoned houses
Searching for arrowheads

Country boys were made
For country life
And country adventures

Parking The Golf Cart

2006-04-06T22:23:00.000-04:00

On The Half Pipe

2006-04-05T20:56:00.000-04:00

On The River Bank

2006-04-03T22:37:00.000-04:00

An Oak In The Orchard

2006-04-01T11:29:00.000-05:00

Farm And Fog

2006-03-31T07:28:00.000-05:00

Emily

2006-03-30T06:28:00.000-05:00

Ice Crystals In The Stream Bed

2006-03-27T21:00:00.000-05:00

Below Loveren Mill

2006-03-26T20:22:00.000-05:00

Contemplation

2006-03-25T09:48:00.000-05:00

On An Adventure

2006-03-23T21:19:00.000-05:00

The Small Ants Go Shopping

2006-03-22T15:16:00.000-05:00

At The River's Edge

2006-03-20T19:23:00.000-05:00

Friends

2006-03-19T20:32:00.000-05:00

Frozen Falls

2006-03-18T05:32:00.000-05:00

City Gal

2006-03-17T05:52:00.000-05:00

Batik In Progress

2006-03-16T06:13:00.000-05:00

Timber

2006-03-15T02:10:00.000-05:00

Storefront Angel

2006-03-13T19:46:00.000-05:00

Wonder

2006-03-12T11:14:00.000-05:00

Ice Is Melting On The Pond

2006-03-11T06:26:00.000-05:00

The Roses of Doctor George Doss

2006-03-09T00:05:00.000-05:00

Hemlock and Pine

2006-03-08T06:45:00.000-05:00

One Long Whistle

2006-03-07T06:57:00.000-05:00

Basking In The Sun

2006-03-05T13:47:00.000-05:00

Snow, Faintly Falling Into The River

2006-03-04T08:50:00.000-05:00

Daffodils

2006-03-02T20:25:00.000-05:00

Mike

2006-03-01T07:16:00.000-05:00

The Fly

2006-02-28T06:46:00.000-05:00

Barn Wood

2006-02-26T21:27:00.000-05:00

A Day At The Bookstore

2006-02-25T08:22:00.000-05:00

Fear Or Concern

2006-02-24T05:53:00.000-05:00

At The Water's Edge

2006-02-23T06:51:00.000-05:00

Happiness Or Mischief

2006-02-22T00:56:00.000-05:00

A Shadow Of Grass

2006-02-21T05:55:00.000-05:00

A Lamp Lights The Way

2006-02-20T01:35:00.000-05:00

Street Savvy Lad

2006-02-19T00:39:00.000-05:00

Cleo

2006-02-18T12:24:00.000-05:00

Trees In The Snow

2006-02-17T08:27:00.000-05:00

Amaryllis - Red Sensation

2006-02-16T11:08:00.000-05:00

Standing On A Remnant Of The Old Bridge

2006-02-14T19:42:00.000-05:00

A Couple, Married Fifty Years

2006-02-13T21:38:00.000-05:00

Selling Snakes

2006-02-12T14:55:00.000-05:00

A Guardian Dragon In The Corner Of The Room

2006-02-10T06:52:00.000-05:00

Clouds On The River

2006-02-07T19:41:00.000-05:00

Sipping

2006-02-06T21:17:00.000-05:00

Lace Curtain, Wounded Plant and Ugly Wallpaper

2006-02-05T17:33:00.000-05:00

Raspberry

2006-02-03T05:22:00.000-05:00

Wild Trees Behind A Fence

2006-02-02T05:42:00.000-05:00

The Phone Call Continues

2006-02-01T06:21:00.000-05:00

At Dawn

2006-01-30T18:42:00.000-05:00

A Grandfather Opens His Gifts

2006-01-29T09:52:00.000-05:00

A Road Passes Through The Forest

2006-01-27T06:29:00.000-05:00

Caught Eating The Batter

2006-01-25T07:02:00.000-05:00

Ice Flows

2006-01-24T06:19:00.000-05:00

Examining The Wedding Ring

2006-01-23T05:54:00.000-05:00

Weariness In Winter

2006-01-22T09:39:00.000-05:00

Rudy Project

2006-01-21T08:20:00.000-05:00

Victoria's Secret

2006-01-20T06:06:00.000-05:00

Mystery Photo Number 4

2006-01-19T05:39:00.000-05:00

Mystery Photo Number 3

2006-01-18T06:49:00.000-05:00

Labrador On Ice

2006-01-16T22:51:00.000-05:00

East Of The Covered Bridge

2006-01-15T21:42:00.000-05:00

Autumn Rain

2006-01-13T06:10:00.000-05:00