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This view, to the southeast, was simply a ninety degree turn from the northeastly direction on the previous image. That’s the mouth of the CT River (behind the trees), where it dumps into the LI Sound. The contrail in this shot is an extension of the one in the previous image.


Blue Tug, Old Saybrook, CT

January 10, 2018

Brings to mind that old Michael Hurley tune, Blue Navigator. And while you’re at it, check out Wildegeeses, which is perhaps the better soundtrack for this photo. The man was making “Americana” music long before it became known as such. Truly an American original, both a wonderful musician and visual artist (those are his paintings on his album covers); all in all, a real treasure.

Long ago, I shared a stage with him, at Tuner’s Bar in St. Albans VT. He had asked, very politely, if he could go up on one of our breaks. He proceeded to wrap a sheet around his body and a towel around his head, and went off into ten minutes of something or other – I got to wondering if we would ever get the stage back. I happened to be standing next to a woman at the bar who turned out to be his girlfriend; she had some tomatoes and said “You know, I was supposed to throw these at him, but I don’t think I can do it.”


Dragonfly, Old Saybrook, CT

January 6, 2018


Free Rides, Northampton, MA

January 3, 2018

Seen in the basement of the FACES store on Main Street in NOHO.


Cold Spell, Old Saybrook, CT

December 29, 2017

Judy and Kim about to take a walk in a subzero (F) windchill.



If you’re lucky you may see thousands of beautiful sunsets in your lifetime; if you’re real lucky, you’ll be totally present with some of them. This one was especially fine, perhaps because the Winter Solstice was a few days ago, and this is Christmas Eve.

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Devons Feeding, Westbrook, CT

December 23, 2017



I remember that evening in the small one room cabin, probably an old sugaring house in another life. A wood stove kept us warm. It was late winter.

Four, maybe six of us, tucked into the “living room”, communing with spirits that rose up in the stories and songs and laughter we shared deep into the night.

We were young, and locked in tight to “being here now”. Who knew the season would pass? Who knew there would be other, different ones, to follow? Who knew back then there was a future?