Home

Arrived home last night after six days on the road sandwiched around four days in Colorado Springs. When we left everything in our gardens was still growing, the trees had hardly started to turn, and summer was still going strong. When we got back all the garden plants except the mums were limp and the grass was covered with colorful leaves. The burning bush had started to turn; autumn may have been delayed but it was not to be denied.

Walking inside from the car, I became aware of the scent of our house, an odor one habituated to doesn’t usually notice. It was pleasant; woody with notes of wool. No “old people's house” stink yet. Today I started slow cooking a pot roast to restore the “home cooking” aura I‘ve missed while away.  Over the next few weeks I’ll be revisiting the restaurants, B&Bs, hotels and motels we visited throughout our trip: the good, the bad and the ridiculous.

Postcards from the Road - IX

Mitchell, Nebraska:



North Bend, Nebraska:



Hawkeye Point, Iowa:

Postcards from the Road - VIII

Farwell, Nebraska:

Postcards from the Road - VII

Scottsbluff, Nebraska:

Postcards from the Road - VI

Florrisant, Colorado:



Garden of the Gods, Colorado:

Postcards from the Road - V

Cripple Creek, Colorado:

Postcards from the Road - IV

Colorado Springs, Colorado:

Postcards from the Road - III

Hutchinson, Kansas:

Strataca

Hutchinson, Kansas:

Cosmosphere

Postcards from the Road - II

Minneapolis, Kansas:

Postcards from the Road - I

Pipestone, Minnesota:



Hebron, Nebraska:



Minneapolis, Kansas:

Way Out West

As I am heading out on a road trip posts may become (even more) erratic for the next couple of weeks...

Garden Party

Image: Tim Rummelhoff, Minneapolis, 1980

Our conversation had turned to past loves going back to the time of trying out various combinations. Trying things out, seeing what would work, what didn't, who was seeing who, and where it all ended up.  He mentioned his divorce; his current wife actually was his girlfriend before he married his first wife.  I had difficulty grasping the concept. All's well that ends well, I suppose.

Thirty-plus years of marriage is pretty good, by any measure.

The Incredible Shrinking Batty

   The last few weeks I have found the Professor caught up in a whirlwind of social events (two weddings, a shower and a funeral) as well as a full slate of health check-ups (physical, eye and dental exams, even a colonoscopy—inside of colon pictured above.) All went well—a little older, eyes a bit weaker, teeth good and even my guts were looking pretty. The only negative result from all this poking and probing was discovering that I've shrunk a full half inch!

   I hope you don't think me any less of a person for it.

Golden Boy

Seth, Minneapolis, 1980

I took photos for a wedding yesterday.

Not many little kids there, a few babies, but almost no big kids at all.

A different scene than years ago when there were kids everywhere.

It got me to thinking about the time when our kids were little.

Not better times, just different.

80 Year Old Eye

All images taken with a vintage Rodenstock Trinar lens mounted on a modern Pentax K-30 digital SLR camera body.

45th Parallel

An anonymous hotel located just of the freeway.
Reception rooms for groups of 10 to 100.
My high school classes 45th reunion.



These get-togethers come a little more often now.
There is always someone there who had never come before.
Even if he or she isn't well known they are welcomed as an old friend.
It's good to see each other again; every year the list of the departed grows longer.



Eating together again is a little like being in the old school cafeteria.
But the food here is much better.



As the night goes on clusters of people form, break up, then reform.
Hundreds of stories are summoned from our collective memory.
Shining moments dispelling the darker shadows of times past.

Parallel lives.

Only in Iceland…

… one last visit (for now) to the "Smoky Creek"…



Transformer Vault, dated 1920, Reykjavík, 2012




Apartment Building, Reykjavík, 2012

Just a Few More…

… night shots of Reykjavík:


Vonarstræti




Austurstræti

Dan Dustin

   Dan's visitation last night was a somewhat sad affair yet Dan, at least through the numerous pictures on display, would have none of it. Dan was a big man, with a big heart who had a great joy in living. The pictures usually showed Dan smiling or mugging for the camera, he refused to be down.  Although he suffered the usual setbacks in life (and then some) he still managed to keep his enthusiasm. We were co-workers for several years, he would organize little "photo expeditions" (I went on a few) and threw numerous parties, some of which I timorously attended— Dan and his friends were prodigious imbibers. Dan was a great friend of women and his female coworkers were true friends;  through Dan's example I became a better friend to them as well. Dan told me he looked up to me, it was the only time I was considered someone's mentor, although I really wasn't diligent enough to earn the title.

   Rest in peace, big guy.

Iceland Comes To Me

   If I can't go to Iceland at least Iceland can, in a sense, come to me. A Whole Foods store recently opened nearby and they have begun to stock some Icelandic items. The Smjör (butter) is the real deal, made in Iceland by the same dairy which supplies the Icelandic domestic market. The Skyr is made in New York, but tastes the same as the Icelandic varieties. It is hard to hype such a bland food, but it really is something special.

   I'm missing Iceland a little bit less now.