With a pen and camera
The banks of the Connecticut River doesn’t have the inimitable splendor of its cousin in France. However, both waterways are remarkable for a myriad of reasons, some similar; but I suspect the majority of those things remarkable are marked by differences in history and appeal.
Vive la différence!
Je sais que le printemps est là quand l’arbre Redbud est en fleurs. Et quand la lumière du matin est bonne, la journée vous accueille avec des sentiments positifs.
Quand le soleil brise l’horizon, les couleurs changent, mais les sentiments positifs demeurent. Si je ressens une journée difficile, je me souviens de cet arbre en fleurs.
Il a été planté il y a des années après la mort de ma mère. C’est elle arbre et c’est magnifique.
Ten years ago, author Malcolm Gladwell published his book, Outliers, a NY Times Bestseller. In his book, Mr. Gladwell posited that to master a specific skill, a total of 10,000 hours is required. That’s the milestone to accomplish being the best, “to accomplish greatness” according to the author.
But once again, “greatness” and “the best” have varying metrics. Is any of this based on earnings? On the number of gold medals? The number of championships [world or otherwise]? Metrics do have a place, certainly, but winning cannot be everything.
If there is a dark side to marketing it’s this notion that aside from the hours required, you also need equipment, supplies et al of equal or higher quality. Marketing promotes aspirational consumption: if I have the best ______, then I have a better chance of becoming the best.
No….10,000 hours is an unreasonable expectation. Predictably, no one denies consistent practice is mandatory in order to reach a given standard or goal [especially your own]. However, my own “rule” is far simpler: give it your best and know it was your best. Save some time to enjoy other things in Life.
I saw this “owl” atop one of the office buildings downtown. Steadfast in her duty, she’s a stoic deterrent from pigeons whom would decorate ledges and windows and screens and cars parallel parked on the street below.
After a long winter, anything that hints of spring is fair game. Just about anything.
Now, this is bright…this is spring…this is what many look forward to…
In less than a week, the northeast USA got hit with another storm. While many are so tired of winter, many more are really done with snow and the cold and wanting spring to arrive. Now.
With close to 10 inches [25 cm] of wet, heavy, snow falling overnight, the next morning did not disappoint for people like me.
With nothing but stillness and silence all around me this morning, I thought of Dan Gurney, an incredible achiever by any standard, who said something to the effect of, “If you see something and can make it beautiful, but choose not to, what does that say about you?”
I suppose someone helped a vine or tree limb grow like a corkscrew. On the other hand, maybe this is a message from Mother Nature and she’s telling us of the stress we’re subjecting her to.
This image shows part of a very large oak limb horizontally spanning about 30-feet [9-meters]. Growing straight up from this limb is a host of small branches that look a lot like saplings. Usually I see such saplings on the forest floor, but this is the first time I’ve seen them emerging from a limb.
I’m not an arborist, so just maybe this is all part of a seasonal norm…
I have been to this place many times before, but not in winter. It’s called Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. To walk the grounds void of flora, visitors and the orchestral sounds of a storied symphony is not only cathartic, but prone to nostalgia.
When you’ve visited a place numerous times, memories can fill many empty spaces. On a summer Sunday afternoon during the season, it’s not an uncommon quest to find a suitable open space on the lawns. But, you do find a spot, spread out your blanket, set-up your food and beverages and soak up the sun and air, all while music literally spans the grounds.
In winter, afternoon light can be very strong, very intense. From 13:00 to 15:30, I chase light and though I love winter, there are just some days when I sense a foolhardy notion to get outside. However, on those days, the sensible part of me says to chase the light indoors.
It’s not difficult to dislike the brutal cold [7F with -10 windchill]. In spite of that, I find a quality that transcends visual beauty.
The cold makes things hold fast. It’s a natural form of “stop-motion” for inanimate objects. And a few animated ones as well vis-a-vis, birds stoically perched in a tangle of shrubs enduring both the cold and the wind.
For a brief instance—and I mean brief—I’m part of the landscape with camera in hand. The cold forces me to hunker down, to pull tighter the collar of my jacket, the hat on my head, the gloves that now feel powerless to the temperature as my fingers start to numb.
Winter is a beautiful time of year for me.
“Unable to perceive the shape of You,
I find You all around me.
It humbles my heart,
For You are everywhere.”
Excerpt from Guillermo del Toro’s film, The Shape of Water.
We may complain if not wonder about these temperature shifts one day to the next. I don’t mind; the shifts randomly change my office views, especially in the morning.
Carlo Centeno 