I learned a new word recently: bombogenesis, the process by which a storm rapidly intensifies. Rhode Island (which is not an island) was recently hit by one of these storms, which brought a lot of snow and even more wind. When I went out to pick up the newspaper (which some fool had actually taken the effort to deliver), I found I could not face north at all without cold, wet, pointy bits of ice continually slamming into my eyes at speeds in excess of forty miles per hour. The next day, there were some pretty intense drifts. Snow depth ranged from practically zero inches up to six feet. The area around the house was clear, but the wind curled around it and dumped a lot of snow on our southern-facing porch. I haven’t been travelling much lately because I am taking care of my grandfather now that my grandmother has died. I am continuing to write my science fiction book and my philosophy book, but have not taken any time to draw. I am also still conflicted with which direction to take some of my other fiction ideas. In the meantime, I have decided to go ahead and publish more of my musings and observations on the blog in spite of having no true adventures to pair them with. I had wanted this blog to be about travel, but my thoughts are part of my life too. My life is in a slow season. I am also having some baffling computer problems I have to keep working around, so this delays blogging still further.
Southern Rhode Island must be the cemetery capitol of the world. I see a tiny one outside a Rite-Aid, another tucked behind a Burger King, one at the edge of a field, a big one just down the road from where I’m staying, and then I read a story in the local paper about all the cemeteries in the next town, including the one where my grandfather’s parents are buried. We went to go see them and some people my grandfather went to school with. It was an uneventful trip. The newspaper article on cemeteries was more interesting. It mentioned a mass grave where a scorned traveler had his revenge by burning down a house with dozens inside. It mentioned two women who were rumored to be vampires, possibly because they had frozen solid during the winter and had not decayed come springtime when the ground had thawed enough to bury them. It also mentioned a single, unmarked grave outside a cemetery that took some sleuthing to find out who was there. New England seems to have a lot of “layers” to it. New developments are built, new neighbors move in, roads are changed, trees grow up, and spots that used to be locally famous become inaccessible and are forgotten. My grandfather speaks of a “split” stone that one can walk through. It is still in the woods somewhere, but surrounded by homes. I’ve also read about a nearby boulder that pivoted atop another to make deep booming sounds heard long distances. Many families used to dump trash such as bottles or old frying pans on their own property. These spots hold a wealth of archaeological data. They have since been covered over and the original families are long gone, but my grandfather still remembers where some of them were.
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A few days before Halloween I was driving through the several towns surrounding the University of Rhode Island. The roads in this area seem to have grown organically like roots with no forethought that humans might one day need to navigate them. Fortunately, my grandfather’s century-plus of experience living in the area guided us home. “Left, left, right, straight, right,” he said. I’m not sure how he does it.
This area has a strange mixture of urban and rural qualities. Everywhere we were surrounded by trees, but there were closely-spaced houses among them. The roads were narrow and winding, yet heavily trafficked. There was nowhere to safely stop and take a picture. The nine-foot, pumpkin-headed being depicted above was actually sighted on a separate trip several miles north of this area. Among the houses are numerous local businesses with creative signs and facades, reminding me of a fairy village. I started to imagine that I might have took a wrong turn into the fourth dimension somehow and I was now trapped driving in circles forever. Every yard had a stone wall going all the way around it. Some bordered right on the road. Some had fitted stones and were very neat. Others were sloppy. Some had jagged stones and some had rounded stones. Some were made of very large stones. There were even stone walls partitioning lots full of trees and boulders with no houses. One yard had a very deep valley running through it. The topography was always interesting. It seems like a cozy place to live. There were book shops, flower shops, and antiques dealers. Every other residence seemed to be selling hay, firewood, mulch, or eggs. Returning a few days later to explore, I was disappointed to find some of the stores still without power from a recent storm. Among the open stores was The Purple Cow Company, a gift shop selling clothes, jewelry, cards, joke books, incense, geodes, and various carved figures. I was intrigued by the locally-made mini-houses made from smooth beach stones stacked and glued. Glass was used for windows and doors. It was a fairy village within a fairy village. I also stopped to look at the Tillandsia plants, which look like cute Lovecraftian horrors. Next door is the The Green Line Apothecary, which in addition to selling drugs, supplements, lotions, and providing screenings and immunizations, also has a bar where they sell soda, ice cream, shakes, floats, coffee, tea, lime rickeys, and whatever the heck egg creams and cherry phosphates are. I was not in a sugar-mood (unusual for me) and so I just had iced coffee with milk. One day I shall return. Rainbows are seen opposite from the source of illumination. There do exist secondary rainbows that require the light rays to make more turns, but these are often too faint to be seen. However, one day I looked straight up to see a rainbow around the sun (which was behind a cloud). What’s going on? Could it be formed from ice crystals instead of water droplets? Why have I never seen these before?
These are photos from my everyday way out life 2013-2017. I'm silly.
Sometimes whether I’m out exploring or just running errands, I see hearts. I like to think of them as little notes from God. Of course I know they are just arrangements of stone and old litter that happen by chance to resemble valentines; I’m not stupid. I’m also smart enough to realize that God must have also known they were there, known I was about to notice them, allowed it to happen, and quite possibly also put the idea in my mind that he was taking credit. If God created the entire universe, he (she? It?) must also have created these tiny pieces of it, so I can still take it the way I want. :P
In New Hampshire, anthills all look the same. After moving to Florida, I was surprised to see gigantic sprawling ant cities of multiple holes. Even the individual hills could sometimes be in excess of twelve inches across. Strangely, many of them were only built up on one side. Some had overhanging sides. Some were made up of sand of mixed colors. Here are just a few: Animals are everywhere. I see them even when I’m not on an official adventure. This one I saw outside the bank: This one I saw on the ceiling: This one I saw on the carpet: I also saw this fleck of lettuce on the carpet that flew away: My mother found a mole crab at the beach and put it in my hand: This animal was hiding in the upper-left of this photograph I took of some fungi while visiting New Hampshire in 2014. I didn’t see it until later. Here are a bunch of animals I saw in either Florida or South Carolina between 2013 and 2017:
Plants are everywhere! I see them even when I’m not on an official adventure. I sometimes like to imagine that I'm three inches tall climbing through the branches. Each is like a whole world. The following is a collection of photographs taken in Florida, New Hampshire, and Virginia between 2013-2017.
After moving from New Hampshire to Florida, I missed the mountains. Florida is very flat and mountains are hard to come by, but it makes up for this with its clouds and sunsets. The clouds always seem so vast and detailed. Each is an entire world. The sunsets are spectacular and come in more colors than the autumn leaves up north. Over the years I have accumulated a few photographs walking around the neighborhood or out on errands. Only a few of these were taken in parks. One afternoon at Walmart I saw this giant sneezing head in the sky: One morning at McDonald’s I saw that the thin cloud cover overhead was collapsing: In Florida I see more rainbows in one year than I saw in thirty years in New Hampshire: One day there was a green stripe across the sky just before sunset: Blue Skies In Florida:Sunsets In Florida:I've never seen anything like this in New Hampshire.
Here we see the two world superpowers of the day (me and my sister) pretending to be civil for the cameras before resuming our war.
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AuthorMy name is Dan. I am an author, artist, explorer, and contemplator of subjects large and small. Archives
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