There are so many beautiful lakes in Maine. This is near Gardiner. We were out for a Sunday drive and took 46 pictures of different lakes. I think this boat is a little far gone for fishing these days but I liked the textures in the old paint. This is a wild area. No cottages. I don't think anyone is worried about someone taking their boat.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
There are quite a few beaver dams on my path lately and I just can't resist trying to see a beaver. So far, no success. Maybe they are not out and about yet. Or maybe this dam has been abandoned. It was a beautiful spring night and Tom and I were on our way to dinner in Ludlow. He knew this dam was here and went out of his way to show it to me. I liked the sparkle of the water with the reflection of the late day blue sky.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Tom and I stopped to take some pictures last night on our way to Ludlow for dinner. It was the perfect time of day for photos, blue sky, low sun. This is a remberance of "the good old days" in our country when children walked to small schoolhouses. There were usually one or two rooms and up to ten children.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
I was out and about today looking for some green. This, for me at least, wraps up what Windham feels like. Here I see mountains, a meadow, barn, and evidence of long ago. Even the tree is interesting to me. I took this the wrong time of day to get a clear shot but the over exposure that comes from mid afternoon put a dimension on this that I actually like. And, I found some green.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
I spent some time at the Weston Priory today.
This place truly is heaven on Earth.
It is the home of a community of Benedictine monks in Weston, Vermont. They are particularly known for the songs they have contributed to Roman Catholic worship over the past 30 years. They host five services a day, seven days a week and all are invited.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
The dunes of Cape Cod are ever changing. The sand shifts with the tide and the seasons. Artists have painted them, writers have romanced over their forlorn beauty. They are warm on a winter day and as fragile as life itself. If only I could be buried in the dunes.