Category: Local notes


A beautiful morning. Walking down the farm road with a moon two-days-past-full up in the western sky, throwing strong black shadows of the newly-denuded trees. The two bulls sleeping in the field on the left, largish black mounds on the silver grass. Just as I swung my eyes to my right there was the flash

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A great morning

Another one of those early mornings that makes you feel up and ready to go. The moon was two days past full, sitting about a third of the way up from the western horizon, and it was simply bright out. I felt as though there was enough light for my eyes to be perceiving color

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Picnic Bench Wrangler: Platonic occupation

I’ve had my eye on this one for a while. The picnic benches at Colt State Park tend to migrate, sometimes singly and sometimes in groups, sometimes in daylight and sometimes overnight. Park administrators, however, clearly have ideas about the correct arrangement of benches across the landscape. This creates the occupation of Picnic Bench Wrangler,

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Blues, running

Yes, there was a time when this title would have been about a New Orleans footrace. But today it’s about bluefish in a feeding frenzy. This was one of those mornings that I wanted to change up the daily walk routine. Yesterday I’d missed the moment of sunrise because I was behind a hill and

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Skeeball Wizard

Laurie took three tokens worth of practice Sunday night at the carnival on the town common. The crowd swirling around included the usual town suspects, clouds of teenage girls, swaggers of teenage boys, mothers struggling with strollers in the grass criss-crossed with electrical cables overlain with rubber doormats. Last night we went back to the

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Feeling pretty sure it was a coyote, I said to Nick, “Think I saw a dog,” not wanting to be misbelieved. Nick said, “Must have been a coyote.” Too early for a good image: Coggeshall Farm, Bristol, RI, 17 Jun, 2009, about 5 a.m., Saved at 1920 by 1200 pixels


This is Ed, who walks the opposite way ’round from me in the morning. Like the two cartoon sheepdogs clocking out: “Mornin’ Ed.” “Mornin’ Ed.” Only twice, since we walk in overlapping loops. We can tell ourselves apart because I’m the one with the faux hip, he’s the one with the pacemaker…or, wait a minute,

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Case in Point

No one has actually asked my why I go out to walk (or, in the old days, run) at 5 a.m. Today provided plenty of reasons. The soft pre-dawn light lit the low ground mist around the Mill Gut, and I walked through a cascade of mist that flowed past the Coggeshall farmhouse, the ice

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I almost forgot…Easter scenes

Dunkin’ Donuts is to Rhode Island what La Boulangerie or Leidenheimer’s is to New Orleans. New Orleans is probably the French bread capital of the United States; Rhode Island is most definitely the fried dough capital of the United States and – by cholesterol-laden extension – of the universe. New Orleanians remember the drawn-out demise

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Right. I know. 2163 words is too long a post (see below). As penance, here’s Waiting, a picture taken on March 7th (formatted as widescreen desktop wallpaper, 1920 by 1200 pixels if you click on it).