Local Appreciation

Tiny bright daffodils are an early joy whenever they bloom

• Almost every day, fabulous color brochures arrive in the mail begging me to travel to some of the seven million wonders of the world.  They promote an implication that it is a sin to avoid what “I must see before I die.”  Naturally, for this religious benediction, they also expect a “modest” remuneration.

Rose briars and other thorns leafing out as the sun grows stronger

• I have instead decided to be a starry-eyed tourist beyond my own doorstep. I strive to gaze upon the glories of Huntington and Long Island as if I had never encountered them daily.  I want to delve into history and current upheavals.  To be as amazed or appalled by what happens within a mile or two miles or ten as I would be if I voyaged to Timbuktu or Hong Kong.

Species not endangered, but local wetlands skunk cabbage is threatened by a huge nasty nearby condo development.

• Huntington events occur that are as praiseworthy or disgraceful as anywhere else in the world.  Unique heritage is destroyed to make way for modern monotony.  Wetlands are converted to shoddy condominiums.  But simultaneously parks are upgraded and modern marvels are created and sometimes what has always been manages to drag itself into the future.  People increasingly frequent public beaches while children chase geese and swans with ancient instinct.

Massive renovation in Wyncoma as Versailles-wannabees replace more modest dwellings of yesteryear.

• My local memories are as vivid as those of distant lands.  Unfortunately, at my age all memories fade quickly.  Friends protest “but you will have photographs.”  That is true, but my pictures are no different than those I can view of anywhere anytime anyplace on the internet.  Why bother with the inconvenience and expense of going there?

Melting town snow dump evokes jagged mountain ranges, at least for those with no real mountains nearby.

• Local concentration embeds the wisdom of trite old sayings:  “the farther you go the less you know”, “see the world in a grain of sand”, “think globally but act locally”.  Each day renews and sharpens my understanding of this universe.  Wildlife cavorts on our harbor as amazingly as on the Serengeti Plain, and I can watch it every day, with quiet time to appreciate and contemplate. There is no need for me to waste infinite dollars, infinite time, infinite aggravation, to trek somewhere that I may soon forget.

Maple belatedly beginning to flower, probably has been a good year for syrup

• So I strive to constantly remain an out-of-towner with a fresh (if not quite innocent) mind.  There are aggravations and exultations each moment.  Success arrives as an innocent and excited eye when I spot the first crocus in bloom or the last leaf drifting down.

April, but the hits just keep on coming

Another Birthday

First day of spring,  frozen fresh water seepage drapes reeds and sand in translucent robes.

• I have turned 71, slightly less shocking than rounding another decade last year.  In spite periodicals’ claims, sanity demands I begin to discount the future.  That means not only personal future, where a clear end is in sight, but also imagined futures of family, culture, civilization, and the universe itself.
• That ought not be a good thing.  Faith in future anchors responsibility.  But a fact is not changed by hiding from it.

Historic cemetery remains almost timeless as Huntington begins massive building spree.

• With luck, there will be more solid years, even as the time horizon contracts.  Each moment now barely resembles those when I was 20 or 40 or even 60.  I weary easily, aches and pains pop up unexpectedly, friends are hurting or incapacitated or dying.  My own probable future path is unfortunately clear enough.

Town workers prepare to set out channel navigation markers.

• One surprising solution is to become as a child.  Birthdays when I was ten were wonderful events.  Presents and loved ones and a day filled with wonder and food and love.  Logic claims that was because a whole exciting lifetime lay before me.  Intuition remembers otherwise.   
• In childhood, each day is eternity, rounded and complete.  That is the outlook to regain now.  Concentrate on each day as totality.  Leave nothing undone by bedtime.  Start each day with plans that can be accomplished in a relatively short amount of time.  Realize that schedules will be interrupted or broken.  Go with the flow, and seize every moment.

4

 Only crocuses I’ve seen so far are this small clump in a protected corner under bedroom window.

• As a senior I am bloated with arcane wisdom.  I stubbornly proclaim what works and what does not work.  My long life qualifies me as an expert.  Unfortunately, in constructing my life's narrative, I unconsciously edit heavily.  I narrow-mindedly forget that what was true once may no longer be true in a quickly rushing technological society.  I discount old confusions, magnify triumphs, trivialize tragedies. Sullen anger may linger when “those stupid young folks” ignore my advice.

Day after spring brings the beginning of a blizzard, with stinging snow, local blur, and distant whiteout

• When I was a child, I also knew everything.  I had an absolute understanding of the whole wide world.  I accepted as dogma everything I learned in school.  Nor was I shy about informing my elders about how things actually were. Surprisingly (to me), few of them paid much attention to my proclamations, but they were usually tolerant.  Occasionally they would smile. But what I knew at that time was unimportant and irrelevant to their lives.  And so it must be now.

Morning after, and we all hope we are well done with such drama for a while.

• It is frightening to fade into unimportance.  Surely that is something to struggle against.  Just as certainly, that is something to accept.  For my own and others’ happiness, I must speak as I wish but only desire that what I say be heard _ not necessarily acted upon.
• Ah yes.  Another birthday, blowing in the wind.

Blog Restart

Ice remains on the water but buoys have already been restored for mooring.

I’ve been writing this blog for several years now, utilizing various notions and formats.  In silly moments, one dreams of such a venture becoming a commercial success, or at least a success in terms of vast readership, just as one dreams of winning a multimillion lottery.  My evolved goal became to compose a tool to sharpen local observation and appreciation.

Pensive Nicholas who can easily destroy any of my carefully scheduled plans

On my walk each day, composing photographs lets me pretend to once again be an artist sketching or painting a subject.  Each object and view becomes a special study in shadow, line, and color.  An inner author voice develops trains of thought into small paragraphs related to something noticed or heard or otherwise experienced.  That discipline enriches my life, even when never read by anyone.

This winter, that became a tedious chore.  I found myself contemplating rehashed thoughts, viewing with tired eyes, straining for fresh insights.  The task lacked zest and joy.

Having no formal obligations, I was free to pause and reevaluate.

Pilings must be driven now to prepare docks for flotillas to arrive in the coming months.

On vacation, elements of playfulness reappeared.  Last year I joined the multitudes and acquired a smart phone, but did not explore its features.  Strolls on a Florida beach and boring nights in a motel forced experimentation.  Soon a project emerged to use new technology, especially dictation, to aid my writing.    This entry is the result of formalizing outlines, documentation, procedures, storage.  I know from a career in the software industry that at any given moment I might forget exactly how I once did something no matter how trivial, so carefully writing down all the baby steps is both a critical backup and a means to organize workflow intelligently.  I am excited again.

What strange entity might emerge from these art-project eggs at the Cold Spring Harbor library?

Instead of daily entries, I will compose one essay a week.  There will be time to review and edit.  Initially, rotate themes _ Nature, Philosophy, Current Events, Wildcard.   Insert captioned pictures from daily wanderings.

Witch Hazel at the Unitarian Church extends bloom in a cold season.

For years, I have slaved into a predetermined schedule.  Cast aside now, because our lives with grandchild and other factors have become too complicated and unpredictable.  So I will work on this as possible, take pictures irregularly, dictate notions to be stashed for later development.  Add miniscule purpose to strolls.  Abandon plans to seek audience in any rational manner.  Gratefully continue a creation of love of being.

Perfect whelk shell abandoned by a clammer as commercially worthless.

Bleak late-winter wetlands near the old dock at Caumsett.

Announcing

Blooming Andromeda helps with the promise of spring on the way.

• This weekly blog will resume next week.

Crows survey the bleak scene waiting for some fast-food trash to be thrown aside.

• Revised format is one longish essay each week containing several pictures, probably posted Mondays.

Sometimes I take an unaesthetic picture just to remember what may disappear in the near future.

• There are no immediate plans to try to publicize this.
• Commenting should be working, but please email me at wl.slingluff@gmail.com if you have any problems or suggestions.

Harbor master boat has not had much to do for a few months.

Who knows how long “the first supermarket chain in the US” will be around?

• Testing Camera versus Phone, same subject\

Sunset Phone

Sunset Camera

TestRestart1

Strangely Druidic outdoor amphitheater looms above Cold Spring Harbor

• This is just a test entry.  I want to begin to use the dictation and photo capabilities of my cellphone.  I am working out transfers, editing, and reducing pictures properly.  Nothing particularly interesting, mostly mechanical setting up documents, folders, and working out the general flow for the future.

Test of horizontal picture from phone after reduction

• This is a test from the manual entry into the dictation document. I am hoping that this will work quite well and this is the end of the formatting.

Test of vertical picture from phone after reduction

• Interesting exercises to perform during a snowstorm
• Probably more to come.

Add with greater reduction

= Day 2 =

This is a dictation at the beach where I do not have Wi-Fi

It snowed last night and gulls are crying loudly, the water is clear and blue

So far it seems to work well I will now try taking some pictures using digital close up

 -Only thing wrong was it changed “gulls” to “goals”.-

All pictures with different digital close-up, all resized to ten percent of original from phone.

Sabbatical

• As I continue my meditative sabbatical, I continue to try to get out and around, but without the edge of thinking what I may write or what pictures I should take.  That has been refreshing and rejuvenating.  In the heart of winter, the Huntington area remains as beautiful as anywhere else on Earth.  I begin my new quest with that as one of the core elements of my fortunate life.
• A few pictures from Crab Meadow and Northport on a relatively moderate day with heavy cold fog.

Evaluation

Harbor has iced all the way across, not so thick yet as to crush remaining boats in the inexorable tides.

• Holidays, New Year, and extreme cabin-fever-inducing weather have combined with hysterical political television and crowded family duties to create personal malaise.  Part of that is simply adjusting to everything in my life that has changed.  The old schedules and routines do not hold, and all my energy is required to readjust.
• So for a while this blog is cut back severely.  Sometimes there will be no entries.  At the moment, I plan not much in the way of ongoing work until March.  By then, it may resume or not, it may have moved somewhere else, it probably will have a new focus and format.
• But as of now I predict nothing.  My creative mind feels as frozen as the bay.