On cleaning out

Found these in a photo box cleaning out closets attempting to limit accumulation. It seems unending. I hate collecting unnecessary items... But these hold so many memories.

1970's Concert days

Robert Scott

I woke up thinking of you this morning. When I was in that place between sleep and wake I thought you were still here. Seven years ago was your last day. I was remembering the last time we we're together; riding through the Maine woods, sitting on a log talking about nature. How in awe you were.  I still remember you looking up at the trees and saying, "wow, nature is so cool." I also remember the last thing you said to me as we parted that day:  "I love you Aunt Deb, try to be good." I miss your hugs, I miss your laugh, I miss your smile ... I miss you.

Robert Scott Dabbondanza

October 14, 1979 ~ October 8, 2003

Thinking of Thoreau...

I love this one by Thoreau.. This evokes so many emotions, memories, and thoughts. From childhood to present day. "The hunters horn awakes the dawn" takes me back to my room as a teenager hearing the sounds of gunshot and the honking of the geese flying over the refuge near my parents home. Laying on on the bed wondering, 'did you escape the hunter?'The last time I was at Walden I was watching the fish just under the surface of the water glide from side to side. "Far in the wood the traveller dreams" brings thoughts of my trip this summer. Absolutely my favorite line being the incurable traveller that I am. "I melt I flow"..thanks Henry. 

A Winter and Spring Scene

The willows droop, 

The alders stoop, The pheasants group,

Beneath the snow;

The fishes glide

From side to side

In the clear tide,

The ice below.

The ferret weeps,

The marmot sleeps,

The owlet keeps,

In his snug nook.

The rabbit leaps,

The mouse out-creeps,

The flag out-peeps,

Beside the brook.

The snow-dust falls,

The otter crawls,

The partridge calls

Far in the wood;

The traveller dreams,

The tree ice-gleams,

The blue jay screams,

In angry mood.

The apples thaw,

The ravens caw,

The squirrels gnaw

The frozen fruit;

To their retreat

I track the feet

Of mice that eat

The apple's root.

The axe resounds,

The bay of hounds,

And tinkling sounds

Of wintery fame;

The hunter's horn

Awakes the dawn

On field forlorn,

And frightens the game.

The tinkling air

Doth echo bear

To rabbit's lair,

With dreadful din;

She scents the air,

And far doth fare,

Returning where

She did begin.

The fox stands still 

Upon the hill

Not fearing ill

From trackless wind.

But to his foes

The still wind shows

In treacherous snows

He tracks behind.

Now melts the snow

In the warm sun.

The meadows flow, 

The streamiest run.

The spring is born,

The wild bees bum,

The insects hum,

The trees drop gum,

And winter's gone,

And summer's come.

The chic-a-dee

x Lisps in the tree,

The winter bee

Not fearing frost: The small nuthatch The bark doth scratch some worm to catch

At any cost.

The catkins green

Cast o'er the scene

A summer sheen,

A genial glow.

I melt, I flow,

And rippling run,

rr e

Like melting snow

In this warm sun

HDT