Going Home

In the late fifties my grandfather  bought a small cabin on a lake. He painstakingly restored it into a great little get-away-cottage.   He died in the early seventies and the cottage was left to my parents.  We maintained the cottage and land which became the site of many family outings. As a kid I would spend summers on the lake swimming, fishing and boating. One of my favorite memories was picking wild blueberries on the islands in the middle of the lake. 

In the winter we would heat the cabin and spend the day ice skating the lenght of the lake or we would go ice fishing while  someone manned the stove inside the cottage and prepared an endless pan of hot chocolate. 

In 1997 my father passed away and my mother, approching the later years of her life, found it necessary to sell the cottage.  I had just purchased Yellow Dog Farm and was already as far into debt than I was comfortable and my sister had no interest for the same reason. So the cottage was sold to strangers.

The last time I stayed in the cottage was June of 96 and the last time I saw it was just before the closing in 97. I had a free afternoon yesterday, I thought I would take a ride to see what the new owners had done with the place. I was dismayed when I saw the cottage in the run down codition that is pictured above. I couldn't believe it,  all of my memories of the cottage had been stompped on. I felt like  George  Webber the protagonist in Thomas Wolfe’s  Novel “You Can’t Go Home Again”. 

 George realized  "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."“You can’t go home again” has entered American speech to mean that after you have left your country town or provincial backwater city for a sophisticated metropolis, you can’t return to the narrow confines of your previous way of life, and, more generally, attempts to relive youthful memories will always fail.

The memories of the cottage will always be with me and they are grand memories.

Morning mist



Listening to spirits in the morning mist

I can hear the vines. They are influenced by their surroundings, but the wine they produce is determined by the vines. There is nothing for me to do right now...but wait.

Sunrise and Snow

sunrise and snow

I woke up at four O'clock this morning, so instead  of tossing and turning in bed I decided to go downstairs and get a little work done. I made a cup of tea and sat in my office and started to go through some notes that I have been preparing for a lecture I am to give later today.

Bella my beagle came into the office and made her presence known. Molly, my yellow lab, and Blue were sound asleep in the next room generating a loud chorus of snores. Bella, the alpha dog, is usually very vocal but this morning she just came in and sat quietly near my desk. I think she just wanted to get away from the snoring or just looking for some company. As I sat and finished the last few notes Bella was content to sit there in the quiet.

 Before I left to the university, Bella and I took a  walk through the vineyard. A gentile snow had fallen last night and the early morning glow from the sun starting its climb into the morning sky made for a peaceful way to start the day.

New Years 2012

I took my annual plunge into Narragansett Bay today. I was not alone there were over two thousand of my fellow penguins. Its called the Penguin Plunge and the organization has been in existence for the past thirty six years.

 The Penguin Plunge was established to raise money for the Rhode Island Special Olympics and every New Years Day hundreds of people turn out to support this cause.  There was a huge turnout today because of the mild weather (47 degrees Fahrenheit).   Its still not your average day at the beach but its a great way to start the New Year.  Its a kind of cleansing, wash away the old and wake up to face the new. Keep the faith, Happy New Years!
Peace,
~ old dog~

Getting ready for the New Years Plunge

Cheers everyone! Have a safe New Years Eve. I'm  getting ready for tomorrow's New Years Plunge in to Narragansett Bay. Enjoy your evening.

Paw Prints 2011

   Molly, my yellow lab lumbers down the trail without any observance to a schedule. She leaves her tracks in the sand and quietly take a seat next to me.
    Trail are about signs and landmarks. Animals leave their signatures and mark their passage with scat, urine, bones, heaps of fur, feathers, sheds of skin, and of course footprints. Bella, one of my beagles reads the trail data like the lines of a story. As she runs by, her nose to the ground she adds her set of tracks to the trail.  On a hot scent, she sounds the alarm and alerts Blue, my other beagle. He quickly joins in the pursuit, leaving behind his own contribution to the trail. We become part of the story, matching all the other legs and feet that have left odoriferous and warm directions scribed into its surface. I use vision and reasoning to read the trail. The dogs use vision, smell and instinct, but we all contribute-compacting the earth with a new verse. I don't know how the story ends, but its been interesting and enjoyable so far. Its the journey that makes life interesting not the destination.
The new year is rapidly approaching. So, this is a good time to reflect what makes our journey through life interesting and enjoyable.

Merry Christmas from Yellow Dog Farm

We wish you  Merry Christmas