Posted in Photography

Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors

A door post… Since it has been a while and being the door pictures are backing up my phone memory… i will release a few from my time in Massachusetts… so far!

Bartlett NH storefront. A piece of America’s rural past
Lincoln NH Americaโ€™s oldest ski shop

Newburyport MA door is closed… open on weekends
Tragic story behind this door… Plum Island Beach MA

Plum Island Beach MA Do Not Enter this door
Conservation Land of Harvard MA

Still River Baptist Church Harvard MA 1832 (founded 1776)
Post Office Hours posted
Boston Fanaueil Hall
Harvard MA
Harvard MA
Harvard MA

Harvard MA Cemetary

Congregational Church of Harvard MA
Mount Wachusett Massachusetts Door to good times…

Bostonโ€™s City Hall dressed for the holidays

Waiting to get seated at Joes… Boston
Posted in Musings, Poetry, quotes, Soul Journal

Three days. Three motivations. Day 3.

This is my final post in response to A Guy Called Bloke and if you follow the above link, you will receive double motivation. ๐Ÿ˜‰โœŒ๐Ÿผ

Ok. So, I am sitting at Hash Imports, waiting for my Jag. The garage door bit off a chunk of the trunk (aka boot for Englanders) and the damaged plith is being put back on the car’s booty!!! Hurrah ๐Ÿ˜„! They tell me it should take an hour. (Long story how this happened which i am not going to explain.)

Regarding English and its many forms, and reasons why it is difficult to learn, even for English-born speakers, here is a handy How to Understand English Words. Since i will be moving to Boston soon, this The Wicked Good Guide to Boston English or Ten Words to Know in Boston will come in handy for other reasons. BTW I love me some chowdah. Which i made over the weekend with Lake Erie caught walleye. So yum ๐Ÿ˜‹!

Since i will be walking, biking or taking public transport in Boston, what will happen to my Jag? Hurt feelings much? But that’s what the country side is for… motoring in my Jag to the ocean and mountain vistas!!! Cannot wait. ๐Ÿ˜ โ›ฐ ๐ŸŒŠ


And this…

because of this โค๏ธโœŒ๐Ÿผ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ J

Posted in Poetry

Summer is coming

Summers are hot and humid in the plains of southern India. Itโ€™s a tough season. We sweat, like incompetent lawyers, the moment we step outside our front doors. We feel dehydrated every few minutes. The tar on the road angrily gleams, barbecuing the soles of our feet. Suddenly, the sun assumes that we are all [โ€ฆ]


As an avid birder I share these Asian birds I otherwise would never see. And a great post to read for Earth Day. Enjoy! 

Thanks to christbaharath @

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Santa Fe, New Mexico

Everyone is talking about bucket lists and I only have a few desires I absolutely have to accomplish.

  1. Visit Santa Fe, New Mexico.
  2. See a moose.
  3. See a roadrunner. (I did see a Saguaro cactus in 2013 so that is fulfilled.)
  4. Publish a poem (blush).
  5. Finish composing letters to my three children.

This summer I will be able to check off #1. I feel worthy enough to attend a poetry workshop with Claude Wilkinson at ( at the Glen Retreat ( sponsored by Image Journal (ย  The fact that it is being held in Santa Fe is a bucket list dream fulfilled.

A goal of mine, while attending this event, will be to soak in the atmosphere of Santa Fe. Besides Paris, it is the ultimate personal inspiration. The vibrant color, the smell of chilies, the regional architecture, the expansive views, the history and culture of a people, the sound of festivals and bustling markets and the leisurely evening stroll down a decorated sidewalk of light.

There will be no rush here. Only time memorialized for future blog postings. I cannot forget to bring my Nikon 5500.





Posted in Photography, Poetry


The then small, insignificant step

toward the giant leap in understanding man.

That was the path she beckoned.

It curved away from the light

and fear began to well up inside.

Depression crippled. Anxiety followed.

Still she danced through the bramble,

not absent of pain, but carried by will.

She recognized the same dilemmas

that coursed through her mind in earlier days.

What had soothed her and had eluded him?

Colorado River at the Grand Canyon


How do you test what moves

and cannot be seen?

Was he blinded to the truth?