We Are Not Alone

...even when it feels like we are. Even when you can hear no sound of the highway or airplanes or the rumble of semis (or the steam train whistle, a sound that's heard regularly here and which I find deeply evocative).  Humans are just about everywhere.

Here's where we went yesterday. I love these markers; I don't recall why I started taking photos of them but it's become a habit. I guess the Geodetic Survey is complete and they don't do it anymore, but we've seen the markers nearly everywhere we've gone in the U.S. The one in Provincetown at the Pilgrim Monument almost got paved over and some thoughtful soul scraped the asphalt away from it; I wonder how many have been buried?













The day turned out gorgeous, sunny and unseasonably warm; so I took the boychild, a friend of his, and the dog for a walk.  There were loads of dogs there, and Cooper behaved far better than he ever did in Obedience class!  He's growing up fast (and BIG!):









Walking with him is exercise: no thoughtful strolling is allowed, every nook and cranny must be rushed to and explored in full.  We've been walking every morning and evening since I got him and although I haven't lost much weight, things are ... shifting in the right direction so we're good. 

Signs of Human Intervention:
Primitive?  Yes, it looks almost like petroglyphs!  Vandalism?  Yes.  Art?  Sure it is.










Really, how upset can you get when the graffiti is this much fun?  We have a lot of painted boulders around here, and most of the time I think they're cool.  This one is VERY cool.












And sooner or later, my mind always finds quilty inspiration.









I also spent the weekend reading Stephen King's new book, "11/22/63."  [Note:  Any time you see a reference to reading a new King book, you can presume several things: the dirty dishes are piling up and the laundry is unfolded, I've not slept enough, the kids and spouse are rolling their eyes because I'm Off Elsewhere and it takes several attempts to reach me, and most time away from the book is given only grudgingly until that first read is completed.]  King gives several nods to the private domain he's built (see my earlier post on Faulkner), adds a fair amount to that domain, and builds a Really Big Tale.  Does he answer the Grassy Knoll question?  Sort of.  Did Oswald act alone?  Maybe.  It's not an attempt to answer those questions, but a look into the great rolling effects of our actions - all of our actions - and the interconnectedness of all things.  And strings.  As always with King the tale is about good and evil, love and hate, but mostly Love.  Always.  Go find a copy and immerse yourself for a few days, you'll come out with your brain energized and some very thoughtful questions that will provide ample material for future mulling.

All in all, a rich and fulfilling weekend.