Firewood, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

It is now warm and summery in New England but, firewood management is a never ending process. Folks that have a large enough property have room for procuring, handling, splitting, stacking, and seasoning. Piles of wood are a great piece of mind -  regardless of what happens to modern services like electricity and gas and oil, one can still be warm by burning a piece of wood.  Of course, one of the downsides of using firewood is that, someone still has to go outside to get more wood when a blizzard rages and the temperature plummets. Another tough choice is shown here - do you chop wood or go sailing?

Keep your eyes open - no telling what creatures might be hiding in the woodpile.

Random Sights, Bartlett Pond, White Horse Beach, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

"A dark and foreboding sky, overshadowing the crepuscularity that would normally have been present, is pierced by a shaft of brilliant sun that highlights the inverted kayaks on the dock, inverted to keep the spiders and bugs within from multiplying at a prodigious rate, becoming larger than even life itself, or even cross breeding to create some new horrible species to harm the unwary as they slink or ooze out." Wow, I could maybe use that sentence as an entry in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. The annual contest, the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, began in the 1980's conducted by the English Department at San Jose State University. The task for an entrant is to compose the opening sentence to the worst possible novel.  I could also have used a "dark and stormy night" if I wanted to use the single most ridiculed opening line of a novel.Winners of the 2013 contest can be found at this link. If you get a kick out of clever use of language, check it out, they are laugh-out-loud-funny!

The swan family sorted by size. (Since this photo was taken, two of the three cygnets have perished - only the grayish one survives).

The clematis around the area are in full bloom.

Two families of geese with their respective many goslings are a lot quieter than a lawnmower - except they poop everywhere.  Not a good time for humans to walk barefoot in the grass.

A clematis after being excessively manipulated in Photoshop Elements  - sometimes, if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing.

Meanwhile, at the beach, this is the initial footprint as a runner propels himself forward. I like the way each toe smoothly swiped into the sand to help push-off. 

"It was a dark and stormy night at the beach, silent as an abandoned morgue a thousand years after seeing its last body, the sand piled high like so many planets, compressed tightly as in a black hole, splintering and cracking like a gum-smacking chew in a surly teen's mouth.........."  Oh yeah, Bulwer-Lytton here I come.

Steps to the Beach, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

"Steps to the beach" is a classic real estate term - but it can mean different things. Many of the beaches in White Horse, Manomet, and other parts of Southeast Massachusetts back up to a high bluff necessitating stairs to get down to the sand. And in most cases that I have first hand knowledge, those steps are constructed with private funds by local community neighborhood associations or by individual owners.

Unstable bluffs coupled with brutal winter storms mean that keeping these stairways safe and functional is a never ending task - and it requires money from the nearby owners/users to make that happen.

I love the broad expansive views of the ocean from the top before descending to the sand. And on the way up, these platforms make a nice spot to stop and catch your breath if need be.

Having a nice stairway is a lot easier (and safer) than scrabbling down (or up) a sandy, rocky embankment - especially for those of us of a certain age.

And speaking of "up," the apparent number of steps increases exponentially in proportion to the length of time spent at the bottom, the amount of energy expended while down there, and the fullness of one's bladder. 

Some of the steps to the beach are less steep and a full stairway is not necessary.

Access may not be as convenient as having an asphalt parking lot right next to a concession stand selling fried dough but - that's certainly something to be happy about.

Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

There are not many people out and about at the beach on this weekday even though the summer weather is finally here. 

I love this path to the beach, winding through a ravine down to the sand.  Many of the other private access points that start atop the bluff have at least 100 stair steps to navigate while carrying your beach stuff.

I am always fascinated by raising a house to build a new foundation and/or basement. These folks decided to do so instead of tearing down this classic colonial style home. 

Cat and a hat.

Reflections on an almost calm water surface.

Bartlett Pond, White Horse Beach, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

A rare day - warm with very little wind on the pond - perfect for kayaking, bright colors, and reflections.

I often shoot a panoramic image outside the recommended conditions just to see what I get.  The moving kayak paddle produced this odd look in this cropped panorama.

And here the horizon is distorted, the paddle again distorted, and the water is chopped into vertical bands. That's part of the pleasure of a digital camera - taking pictures contrary to "the rules" just to see what I get. If it's no good, just delete - no film costs involved.

In Memoriam - Milo the Cat, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

Our dear, sweet, handsome, funny, furry, fun, adorable, lovable and loving cat, Milo, has died. He graced the pages of many of these blog posts over the past  years. I am so sad, I can hardly stand it.

For fourteen years he shared his life with us and asked only for our love in return. And he got a big dose of it  from us. We spoiled him silly and he loved every minute of it - so did we.

He had many talents - identifying and holding down the best warm sunny spot was oftentimes his highest priority.

He often "helped" with my blog - either as a subject or sitting on my lap with half his body on my computer, typing away - his accuracy was pretty poor, though - that's the problem with stubby paws.

He was mostly an indoor kitty but enjoyed occasionally being out and about if it wasn't rainy, snowy, or cold. He especially liked it when big human mommy or big human daddy was with him to provide comfort and protection in the big, wide world. He never wandered far, he always came home - he knew it was his home, where his humans were - he was fed, sheltered, and loved and he knew it and liked it. 

He enjoyed sitting on this big rock in the hot sun watching Amy work in the garden, sometimes writhing on his back to get a good scratch from the rock's rough edges.

He was sure-footed and fearless in walking along a narrow railing, never considering he might fall off - of course he never did fall.

But always, he was way too cute and could melt our hearts in an instant. He was my furry little friend and was a wonderful addition to my life. When I'd get home from a tough day at work he would jump up on my lap and turn on his little purr-motor and instantly my day's problems weren't quite so bad after all.

We brought him home 14 years ago - I  even had brown hair back then. Ian was only eight. And Amy was youngish and beautiful as ever.  Milo spent most of his nights sleeping curled up next to Ian, both of them growing together, side by side, into adulthood .

Here, he is about six months old, "helping" me install a new bathroom sink. Even as a tiny kitten, he always had that penetrating look.

But more than anything else, I'll always remember how much he loved to wrap his little kitty arms around his momma's neck and hug her dearly.  I've never seen a cat before or since that hugged like Milo. He was so sweet and he is so dearly missed. And yeah, maybe he was only a cat, but, he was our cat and we were his humans and that made him special - he was part of our family and we loved him.  The hole in my heart is deep from losing him. He made my life richer and I miss him so much. Goodbye, my sweet Milo, rest in peace.

Old Sandwich Road, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

A few days ago I visited Old Sandwich Road on a bright sunny day and remarked on the great shadows the trees create.  But even on a cloudy day, I still enjoy the feel of the place. The idea that this is likely the oldest road in the United States also gives it a special feeling. Locally, a debate is ongoing about paving versus not paving it.

Center Hill Preserve, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

Center Hill Preserve is conservation land that belongs to the town of Plymouth. It has a coastal component and an inland component, both located just north of Ellisville Harbor State Park.

This "bunny hole" path is how you get to the beach.

It's usually quiet with few or no other people every time I have been there.

I prefer not to see these markers nailed to trees but, I guess it is helpful for the directionally challenged.

This part of the path needs no markers.

At the Waterfront, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

It's that time of the year again - the tourists come back to visit "America's Hometown."  The Mayflower II stands proudly at dock welcoming tourists. The original Mayflower back in 1620, brought about 100 Pilgrims and 30 or so crew to the area on the 100-foot long ship. Tight quarters to say the least.

And yes, this is a seaworthy vessel. (It was built in 1955-56 in Devon, England with private donations and sailed to the United States in 1957).

On the town wharf, otherwise regular seaworthy vessels include two of the Captain John fleet - popular for fishing and/or whale watch charters.

The bronze statue hand of former founder and governor of Plymouth Colony, William Bradford.

Old Sandwich Road, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

Old Sandwich Road has long been a favorite of mine.  On a sunny day the light streams through in a special way. Much of the road is unpaved which helps to keep the traffic volume down. It is likely the oldest road in the United States.

The habitat is Atlantic Coastal Pine Barrens eco-region  - basically a pine forest with a smattering of struggling deciduous trees.

It makes for great long shadows at the right time of day. Too bad I can't include the smell of the pine needles and the songs of the birds on this blog post.