Spring Blossoms

Apples & Mustard

Bleeding Heart

Lavender

Paintbrush

Spring Field

Tree Garden

Flowers of Shelburne Falls

In Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts is a walking bridge named The Bridge of Flowers. The bridge is claimed to be an international tourist attraction. For a few years, I returned to that bridge to photograph the magnificent collection of perennials cared for by the Bridge of Flowers Committee. The following photographs are from that collection. There are also perennial flowers at other places in Shelburne Falls that are worthy of attention. From time to time I will post these photographs under the heading “Flowers of Shelburne Falls.” The names of the flowers, if known, will be in the caption.





Tulip





Lucifer 1





Lucifer 2





Morning Glory





Thistle





Forsythia & Willow

 

For more information about the Bridge of Flowers, visit the official website, bridgeofflowersmass.org.

4/20 '08

On April 20, 2008, my grandaughter Audriana and I ate in Nashua, New Hampshire at the restaurant Villa Banca. Both of us wrote a poem as we ate on outside tables. Today she sent me four photographs she took during our meal that I haven’t seen before. I was surprised at how the photographs unintentionally illustrate my poem. So, here’s the poem a month late for any celebratory significance, broken up by her photographs.

4/20 ‘08

A holyday unknown

to me until today.

4/20 Feast of Cannibis

celebrated at Villa Banca Restaurant,

one time a bank,

granite stone cut into the corner

of East Pearl and Main.

“Welcome to Villa Banca.

Please see hostess inside

for patio dining.”



Black metallic mesh table and chairs

under white umbrella,

sunny side of street, 

sunlight glistening

glittering off water condensed

onto crystal goblets on Boston Red Sox

2007 World Series paper coasters.

4:30PM service on 4/20 holyday

on a white triangular plate.

Grilled chicken tenders

in sweet teriyaki sauce glaze,

thinnest fried onion rings ever made.

Sweet strings coil into my mouth

with alfalfa sprouts.

 “How we doing over here? Still working on the chicken tenders?”

“Yes.” On 4/20 holyday.

But the teriyaki is beginning to taste too salty.

Can’t get over this place was once a bank.



There’s a large square clock above my head,

from the old days, with inner clock-works.

I watch the hands move to 5 and 30.

Finished working on my chicken tenders.

Studying the “Afterwards” menu.



I remember now, 40 years ago,

in the birth town of my daughter,

when I first saw this building,

fascinated by the grey cylindrical tower on one corner.



“Lemon Lust Pie.”

Tantalizing fresh squeezed lemon filled

fluffy cream cheese.

I’ll have that on 4/20.

Dennis Fredrick Evans

Photographs by Audriana



Tilton, New Hampshire in Images

Well…I’m humbled. I spent several hours today researching the history of Tilton, starting with the story of Mary Baker Eddy. Then the subject just blew up from there, like the Big Bang that began our Universe, so we’re told. Just take a deep breath, Dennis. No need to rush. Let the Helium coalesce into planets. In today’s post, I want to focus on the building that is presently the most colorful on Main Street. And I will after I mention five bits of history: Tilton was once named Sanbornton Bridge, which was part of the town of Sanbornton, which was established in 1769. In 1869, a group of Sanbornton Bridge citizens successfully petitioned the town of Sanbornton and received State approval to create the town of Tilton. The new town was named after Nathaniel Tilton, who built the area’s first hotel and an iron factory. Yes, I must mention that Tilton was once a prosperous mill town along the Winnipesaukee River. Nathaniel’s grandson Charles E. Tilton, who got his first wealth by prospecting for gold out West, built that huge granite arch on the hill and many other significant structures. But enough! Enough history for now. There are many details to work out. For instance, many people think the town was named after Charles Tilton, not Nathaniel. The situation is chaotic. But I see that there is a great story to gel.

Here’s the colorful building I’m talking about…yes from yesterday’s pictures.

Now here is the front of the building. Behind the building, across the river and up that tree-covered hill is the Tilton Arch, named after Charles E. Tilton. I found out today that the arch is actually in the town of Northfield. Now I need to go into the thickets and find the borders of Tilton and Northfield, and the history of those borders. 

The business there is Gemini Health Emporium. It’s a health food store. As may be guessed, the shop is far different than a GNC vitamin and supplement store.  I’ve been in twice since living in town and had some conversation with the proprietor. The last time I was in, he showed me how he makes sauerkraut in the back room. Yep – ferments it right there in several large, clay crock pots. He sells it to a ready clientele. I’m not fond of sauerkraut, but many are. This store is a sauerkraut lover’s delight. One wall in the store has shelves covered with large glass jars of dried herbs. Other shelves carry raw honey and other good food written on the show window. There’s more to report and I must visit to get names and more impressions.

   

I believe this psychedelic building has a peculiar story to tell. I found a detail in my research today that hints of something suspicious. I’ll dig into it. But for the rest of today I want to do some artistic crop work with the backside of this building.

Painted to catch the eye of a touring bumblebee!

For a good article on Tilton, check out Wikipedia’s. It was surprisingly informative. I looked at the website of the Tilton Main Street Program too. I have more to say about Mary Baker Eddy and will cite a good website.

Tilton, New Hampshire in Images

My wife and I moved to Tilton, New Hampshire three years ago. Only recently have I gone walking through the downtown, village part of the township. I’ve been through Tilton many times over the years, but now I want to share with everyone what I learn about this town from a closer look. I’ll start off with a short mystery tour.



This statue of what I presume to be a goddess, next to Winnisquam Regional High School near the west end of town, was sculpted in 1882. There are several of these marble statues on granite bases in town and I have no idea yet what they mean. Their presence indicates a glorious and wealthy past. Yet…

...this is the backside, the river side of Downtown Tilton. That large brown building looks like an old factory building. But on the street side there are retail stores. Some of the buildings on Main Street have apartments being lived in. I’m not sure about this one.

And right across the river is a backyard pen with two goats. What’s with that? Directly across from the house with the goats is a grade school. (No picture of the grade school yet.) And just a slight, five-minute climb up a hill from here is this thing!

Tilton has its version of the Arc de Triomphe?

Maybe this explains it. Mary Baker Eddy slept here.

But what explains this?

We're past the Gilded Age. Everyone used to get dressed up in suits or dresses when they went out. In the cities at least. Look at old photos of baseball games. The male fans wore a shirt and tie. Even the umpire wore a suit!

The Power of Walking – Part Three

Continued from May 5 post –

The Power of Walking

This post marks a transition to a broader theme that will become Part Two of my autobiography.

          The full importance and meaning of my neighbor’s recovery from stroke by walking didn’t come to my mind at that time. But, the image of his effort, his determination and faith, and the unimaginable renewal of his ability to function impressed me then and remained vivid with me through the years. His accomplishment became significant for me in 2006, when I placed the idea of the healing power of walking into the growing structure of my personal philosophy. The year 2006 truly was, for me, a time of endings and beginnings, of Omega and Alpha times.

          A description of events during a few preceding years will show the thought tracers leading to a second, or possibly third, beginning. In the year 2000, I had developed the concept of Temporal Grace, which proposed the possibility of my exercising enough power to construct the circumstances of my future (see April 30 post). I began college in the fall of 2000, which was a resumption of schooling I dropped out of when younger, and obtained a Bachelor’s Degree in Literature in 2003. This action was an application of the principle of Temporal Grace. My senior thesis was a seventy-page autobiography, which, although brief, enabled any reader to essentially know who I was. Of course, the autobiography also enabled the autobiographer to better know what sort of person he was. As a consequence, when I turned fifty-seven it seemed to me that I had completed a wide, circuitous, life-cycle, and my life could have ended then with a sense of accomplishment. But I didn’t die, and I wondered how the next life-cycle would begin. I even questioned how much I should try to influence events and create circumstances, because I didn’t have complete faith in Temporal Grace. I had concluded my autobiography with these words:   

“As a young boy, I was not conscious of any happiness, although I may have been happy. It is only as a self-conscious man that I can reflect and assign meaning to my memories. By this practice, I am reorienting myself within my own history and turning toward a new day. I learned an important lesson that morning on Plum Island – one must arrive to study the scene several minutes before the dawn in order to receive the complete impression of the sun’s rising. In a similar way, my search for a purpose today must begin by remembering what happened yesterday.”

I wrote, “…I may have been happy.” But my reflections declare to me that I was happy when a young boy. And I was happy unintentionally and without strategy. No long range planning was required. There was no need to profess a purpose in life or to be “goal oriented” in order to be happy. So, in 2003 I asked myself whether or not I could be a happy adult by not planning and strategizing. But my definitive answer to that question wouldn’t come to me for a few more years. I was again sitting on my Wall of Contemplation, just as I had been when eighteen years old. That was the time of my second beginning! My first beginning was at conception, unless it is true, as I have surmised, that a kind of metaphysical beginning occurred before my conception and will occur again when I die. But more of this in another place.

          – to be continued 

Bike Day

Bike Day

          To those who may have been looking for Part Three of The Power of Walking, I apologize for its absence. I began writing it yesterday but discovered some related ideas, and the story became too complex to finish and post. That happens. The digressions led the way to the uncovering of a broader theme, a theme that was actually lying beneath the purpose of my writing about walking in the first place. So, I’ll continue to indulge the tangential thoughts, transition to that broader theme and hope for a post on May 8.

          Today was a landmark day for me in regards to exercise and healthy works in general. I have a 21-speed road and trail bike that has sat in a garage and hung in a shed for the past thirteen years. Late last fall, thanks to a money gift from my daughter, thank you Karma, I had the bike maintained and fitted with new tires. The chain was still in good shape despite all the years of hanging around – it was covered with a thick coat of dirty oil. I bought a new helmet last year too. The one I had thirteen years ago wouldn’t pass new safety codes. Today I rode the bike for a round trip of six miles – to downtown Tilton and back home. During the past month, I’ve walked to town three times, a walk of two miles one way along West Main Street. My wife and I moved to Tilton, New Hampshire, three years ago. I intend to write about Tilton and include photographs in the account. Today I rode along a bike path that runs along an unused railroad track through some woods. I found several broad patches of Japanese Knotweed, which should meet many years of my need for the root. Yarrow was also abundant along the trail. My use and work with herbs will also be a subject for writing. All these thoughts – biking, Knotweed, Yarrow, and even the town of Tilton are connected by the thematic threads of The Three Priorities.

The Power of Walking - Part Two

Continued from May 4 post –

The Power of Walking

          The power of walking manifested in my experience isn’t, however, an exemplary epitome. The inspirational model is that of a man I observed walking ten years before my attempt in 2007. I looked out the window from my home one day to see a man I didn’t know walk past on the street. Well, he wasn’t exactly walking. He looked like a broken grasshopper with one of its legs straight out, dragging itself across a field by thrashing the air with its arms and pushing with the other operable jumping leg. The man had suffered a stroke and was trying to recover to what extent he might with exercise. His right leg was strong enough to carry all his weight. His left leg was weaker, extended straight and slightly behind him, and could support some of his body weight for only a moment while he took a forward step with his good leg as his left leg came forward to balance the body. That awkward sentence fails to describe the man’s awkward gait. One of his arms hung limp and the other was slightly contracted. He was slow and cautious. I watched this man in wonder as he dragged himself down the street and around the corner to wherever he lived.

          I saw that man the next day at the same hour. And the day afterward. I don’t know whether or not he walked every day because I wasn’t home to look for him every day. But he walked by the house on days in the following month. And the month following that one. His determination had been proven, and his gait had improved. With each passing month, the man who had at first resembled an injured grasshopper dragging his body began to look like a man walking. I wish I had possessed enough sense to talk to him, to learn more about him. But, probably knowing him would not have added anything to what his experience and example taught me. For one year, he regularly walked around our neighborhood past my house. And at the end of a year, he was walking briskly, swinging both arms, positioned straight and upright, and bearing his weight evenly on both legs. There was no trace of the infirmity he had a year earlier. He was healed.

            – to be continued in the next post  

The Power of Walking - Part One

The Three Priorities: My daily life is focused by three priorities: Involvement with Family, Artistic Work, and Personal Health. If I'm able to act on one or more of these priorities, I take note of the fact and choose to be satisfied with my day. If I don't engage in any of the three priorities, I feel frustrated and know why.

Personal Health: The Power of Walking

          Four years ago today, in 2007, I began a walking regimen that lasted through December of that year. It was the longest and most productive regimen of any period before or since then. Six months before that, my left knee inexplicably collapsed while I was walking in the house, and I was still coming out of a recovery that required me to wear a knee brace and learn how to climb a flight of stairs in a whole new way. I believed that walking would strengthen my knees. There were, however, other reasons I needed to walk at an aerobic pace. My blood pressure had been elevated for years, my cholesterol levels were too high, and my heart had occasional arrhythmias. I had also begun to take some special nutraceuticals and noticed a few dramatic physical and emotional improvements. Optimism grew, which made me declare to myself and others that I wanted to live a healthy one hundred years. I was convinced that I could live another adult lifetime.

          My walks in May started at a moderate, two-mile-an-hour pace. But, I limited my walks to less than an hour for a few weeks. My body responded with pain in my knees, hips, and leg muscles, and my endurance was…well, less than optimum. By May’s end, according to my exercise log, I had progressed from 1.5 miles in fifty minutes to 2.5 miles in fifty minutes. Two weeks later I began to combine walking with jogging, which enabled me to cover 2 miles in thirty-five minutes, an aerobic pace. My weight was down to 155 pounds, a drop from a high of 170 pounds a year earlier. Many of the pains I had experienced early in May were worked out and my recovery time from the exercise was ten minutes. My knees were getting stronger. My heart arrhythmias ended, and my blood pressure began to fall. I continued to push myself and experiment with the rhythm and ratio of the walk/jog. I walked an average of three days a week. On August 14 I wrote, “Broke new ground today. Walked three miles in 57 minutes, which are 19 minute miles. Felt good afterwards.” I continued to push, and on October 20, I broke all personal records when I walk/jogged 3 miles in forty-eight minutes – sixteen-minute miles. But I had become preoccupied with other concerns and began to walk less frequently. My last logged walking day that year was November 19. I walked 2 eighteen-minute miles. My weight bottomed out at 150 pounds. For five months, I had physically and mentally disciplined myself for the first time and seen encouraging results. Then my determined effort slacked off. Each summer since then I have had small successes, but haven’t been able to repeat the feat of 2007.

          The power of walking manifested in my experience isn’t, however, an exemplary epitome. The inspirational model is that of a man I observed walking ten years before my attempt in 2007.   – to be continued in the next post.

Cost of a Christmas Tree

                  Cost of a Christmas Tree

“Oh, Mother, look – so many new toys and games.

Father, mmm, to choose and play…play.

I want car and candy and ice cream and house

and give me fun and ball.

Where did it all come from?

Oh, I don’t care, it is here.

Gimme!  Gimme!

Living is good, isn’t it?

What’s for Christmas next year?”

Thus begins a tale of beautiful bodies;

of ideal thoughts and dreams –

then of butchered bodies,

legs cut off and tied by wire

around the head with eyes kicked out;

corpse hanging from a bloody, naked tree.

“Do you see, darling, how we slice up bodies we have killed?

We should equip our armies with meat-hooks

to drag away the bodies that trip.”

(Bodies in aluminum caskets –

treasures in the Hope chest of a divorced woman)

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but…

Ring around the Rosie pocket full of posie…

Red Rover, Red Rover, send…

How much did life cost this year, honey?

                                       Dennis Fredrick Evans