Feathered Friends

For two days in a row, right here in downtown Edgartown, I was visited by friendly hawks who sat on nearby tree branches and watched as I worked below. I assumed it was the same bird on both days until I got a closer look while processing the photos. Two days, two birds, both friendly. I've seen a hawk in my yard before, but not as friendly as these. My neighbor says she saw yesterday's bird feasting on a small animal in her yard.

Context is Everything

While waiting for my supper to cook last night, a little on the late-ish side, and feeling the need to move my body, I headed out for a fast walk (the only way I know how to walk). I headed down Main Street and then out North Water Street where I walked as far as the Harbor View Hotel, then back again and down past the Chappy Ferry and along Dock Street, not an untypical walk for me. It was dark, save for the antique lanterns that lit the way, along with maybe two or three houses that were lit from within; there were no stars to speak of, but most remarkably, there was not a single soul to be found. I should say that one of the reasons I walk this route is because of the possibility of encountering other forms of humanity. After being home alone all day (every day for the past few weeks), a hello or a smile from another human being is most welcome. I did encounter two of Edgartown's finest at the bottom of Main Street in their cruisers and passed the time with them for a few minutes, which was both a welcome relief from the solitude and a pleasant diversion.

The biggest struggle for me at the moment is the lack of context I'm experiencing. My life up to now has been defined by my work and social interactions; a life filled with grandchildren and children and their activities, a home filled with family and friends and live music and B&B guests, with many hours a day tending to my home in preparation for and cleaning up after these guests, and, for 30 hours a week, a job caring for the now-elderly woman I've been caring for for 30 years, all of which has been on hold for the last six weeks.

How many times have I wished for more time to pursue some of my extracurricular activities such as organizing my photos, completing my handful of book projects, learning new songs, getting better at the bouzouki and the fiddle? The irony here is that now that I have all the time in the world, I am hard-pressed to even get out of bed in the morning (I am even creating this post via voice-to-text on my phone from my bed, barely having finished my first cup of coffee). Without the context of work and friends and family, I have lost all motivation. It's as if I am in a vacuum. I have always wondered what it would be like to be retired, and now I can tell you, retirement is definitely not for me.

I also dare to say that we are precariously close to destroying the motivation and soul of our country - not to mention the economy - with what is now turning out to have been draconian and freedom-seizing reactions to covid-19.

(a couple from the phone - somehow I walked out without the Lumix last night)

Walk to the Bend

I'm not saying I'm running out of things to photograph, but it sure does feel like it during these dulled-down corona days.

There was a time when I walked the two miles (and back) to Bend in the Road Beach almost every day. It's been awhile. I'd like to get back to this habit. The good news is I'm getting a handle on the Lumix's macro capabilities (hint: MF).







A path less traveled.





Above -the Infinite Spider (lichen)

















I'm loving the bokeh on the Lumix.















Shipwreck



Waiting for dinner to be delivered.

There is almost always a red-winged blackbird in this tree on the edge of Trapp's Pond. He is usually heard before he is seen.

Trapp's Pond, with Cow Bay beach houses  beyond.

Above: another variety of the 17,000 species of lichen.

Above, last year's Indian Pipe.

Below: these tiny wildflowers on the side of the bike path were a sweet surprise. I should know their name, but I do not, nor could I find it anywhere.

We All Need More Kindness

We All Need More Kindness in this World, by Guy Davis.

Abide with Me

My Sunday offering - by the time I've learned it and played it as many times as necessary to get it right, and edited it, the message has made its home in me.

The Road to Emmaus.

Corona-time

Wake up in the morning and by the time you've finished a recording project, just like that, it's 5:00. I'm on Corona-time.

River, by Bill Staines.

Pandemic Ponderings

Just a few from a couple of random and unfocused walks, trying to fill the hours and stay active, though in these unstructured times it's difficult to stay inspired. As I write, I don't even know what day of the week it is.

The evening before last I pulled myself up out of a late afternoon nest I had created for myself - shades down, wrapped in a blanket in front of a movie - and lo and behold, while I wasn't looking, and to my great surprise, an after-the-rain sky show had materialized, waking me from my afternoon ennui. I grabbed the Lumix and out I went, thinking I might find a rainbow in the east, above the harbor, but the conditions weren't quite right. At any rate, the light downtown was interesting and worth walking out the door for.

Yesterday continued cold, with a strong wind from the northwest. The light was not my favorite for photography - a little bright for my taste - but I persevered.



Following a ten-minute deluge, the late afternoon light painted the town. Above: looking east towards the harbor; below: looking west, back towards home.



Edgartown Harbor is still very much a working harbor, albeit quiet at the moment. 









Edgartown's version of row housing.









(Above) When the wind blows strong from the northwest it creates tides that are much lower than usual - something about blowing all the water away. This is extremely low for Bend in the Road Beach. The cumulus clouds are also a clue as to wind direction. (Below) A few people I love. This is how we visit these days; take-out-window-style.