Agiocochook Is Still At It

Last night, I shared some shots of the bewitching sky we saw on our walk. This morning, the Great Spirit was at it again. The sky is simply stunning with it's mysterious shades and powerful tones. And better yet, when it comes to foliage, each day is better than the last one. Every morning I think to myself, "It can't get any more beautiful than this." And yet each morning it does.

We really are blessed to live in such a place - especially during the month from September 15th through October 15th, the best of the year.

Tomorrow marks the first full day of autumn and to celebrate it's arrival Atticus and I are heading off to hike a 4,000-footer or two. It's the first we will have climbed since my surgery this summer and I figure my favorite season is an appropriate time to celebrate a saved life.

From Our Walk This Evening

This evening Atticus and I were headed to Pudding Pond for a walk, but while driving through North Conway the sky became a dramatic roiling sea that cast various shades of light on the foliage. Instead of heading for the two mile loop in the woods that abuts the pond, we walked along the Saco River instead, where we could watch the show put on by the fading light and the clouds.

In the top photo, the clouds give the appearance that they are emanating from the summit of Mount Washington, which sits low in the center of the picture just above the trees. Those familiar with the Lord of the Rings can recall Mount Doom. Or locally, back a few hundred years, the Abenaki would say the Great Spirit Agiogochook, who lived atop the highest peak in New England, was busy at work. It sure seemed it from where we were standing.

The clouds moved rapidly. Just from the time we took to walk from the car to the river, perhaps one hundred yards, the great mountain disappeared in a veil of clouds.

After we walked along the river for a while we drove up to the top of Cathedral Ledge hoping for a different angle of the show. Alas, the sun had set and while the clouds still told a story, the light had left for the day and the photos were not as special.

Slide Show: Black Cap

After I spent most of the day sitting at my desk, Atticus and I finished it in a wonderful way by climbing Black Cap and watching the sun sink slowly into the mountains to the west. Our slide show can be seen here.

From This Morning's Walk

No Longer Waiting

My friend Laini, who works at Jabberwocky Bookshop in Newburyport, tells me she has only memorized one poem in her life. It is Laurence Ferlinghetti’s I Am Waiting. It is a poignant poem from a poignant time in our country’s history. The last couple of lines are her favorite in the poem “and I am perpetually awaiting a rebirth of wonder.”

My friends were more than a little shocked when I rediscovered the mountains of my youth with Atticus and fell head over heels for them. They were even more surprised when I sold my newspaper and moved north into this new world. I’m not sure they understood my metamorphosis then, or even now. The best way to explain what changed my life is to say that unlike Ferlinghetti I am no longer “awaiting a rebirth of wonder.”

I found it up here and see it nearly everywhere we go. You don’t have to be on top of a mountain or sitting on the edge of a ledge. We see it even on our daily walks around Jackson, as we did this morning when we ran into this heron and spent fifteen minutes watching it eat before it took flight.

Here’s the entire Ferlinghetti poem…

I Am Waiting
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti
I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
Of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

Slide Show: Late Afternoon Potash Hike

A dreary morning turned into a brilliant afternoon here in Jackson and with Atticus nudging me with my nose to get away from my desk I decided we'd hike Potash this afternoon. It's the neighbor of Hedgehog, which we did a few weeks ago, sitting on the north side of the Sandwich Range just off of the Kancamagus Highway. The slide show can be seen here.

Gone Fishin'

A cloudy, drizzly morning eased into a stunning September afternoon. The chickadees outside our window are making fun of us for staying inside. Now we're not about to be mocked by a flock of little birds so we're outta here! Gone hikin' (which is our version of gone fishin'). We've been working on edits but clearer heads have prevailed and we're on our way to hike Potash this afternoon, which looks like it's becoming more beautiful by the minute!

Slide Show: Greeting the Day Atop Cathedral Ledge

Early this morning before getting to work on my manuscript, Atticus and I took a hike up the trails leading to the top of Cathedral Ledge. It was a great way to greet the morning! Here's the show.

"Huh?"

Pinkham Notch Practice Shots with the New Camera

'Tis the Season

Most Recent Column for the Northcountry News

There was a time, some years ago, when I gave thought to becoming a member of the clergy. Perhaps it was my Irish Catholic upbringing, my years as an altar boy, or watching Bing Crosby playing Father Chuck O’Malley one too many times in Going My Way. However, I chose another path since I wasn’t much of a follower – or maybe it was because I enjoyed the “sins” of this life far too much to give them up. I have never regretted my decision. But I never gave up my spiritual quest either.

I’ve always been intrigued and responded to the overriding mysterious order of being, as poet and later President of the newly formed Czech Republic Vaclav Havel referred to it. That mystery is the same one Einstein referred to when he said, “The greatest thing we can experience is the mysterious.” (You know when a poet turned politician and a scientist come to the same conclusion they’re on to something.) My own quest led me from the idea of religion to politics. Now any of you who knows a lick about politics may understand that I wasn’t about to find what I was looking for down that dark alley either. That’s the thing about religion and politics, they are based on faith and hope and they truly are wonderful until ego gets involved and they become sullied.

What I was looking for was that same sense of wonder we all have as children. You know what I’m talking about: the look on a child’s face watching the first snowflakes of the year, listening to a wind before storm, or walking through the magical realm of a forest. And that’s where I found what I was looking for. It took me nearly four decades to get back to where I started from and I found it in the forest.

Funny, isn’t it? When we get to a place in life where we are finally happy, we realize we’ve seen that place long before but we were in such a hurry to get away from it. Somehow growing up got in the way of being what we’ve always wanted to be.

I suppose I’m thinking about all of this right now because at this time of the year it seems the woods are filled with more magic than at any other time and it is ripe for the picking. All you have to do is take ten steps away from your car and start up any trail in the White Mountains. You not only find yourself surrounded by it, you also find it inside yourself, and suddenly you are part of that miraculous scene. It’s no longer something you have to seek.

The other day Atticus and I walked through the forest, heard the chill wind playfully shaking the branches, smelled the sweet decay of one season fading into another, saw the sun dappled green forest, worked harder in climber higher and then I simply surrendered to it. It’s amazing how quickly you can forget about responsibilities, bills, appointments or any of life’s other trials and tribulations when you become part of that “mysterious order of being.”

And the great thing about it is you find it wherever nature is. Recently in a mostly flat hike to Thoreau Falls we felt it all around. It only dimmed whenever we came in contact with other hikers and stopped to talk. We definitely found it atop the rocky ledges of the falls. (Thoreau Falls is the rare White Mountain waterfall you don’t view from the bottom, but the top. And just in case you were wondering, Thoreau never saw the falls. Back in his day there was no way to access them and they were named in memoriam for him by Moses Sweetser, the grandfather of all White Mountain guidebook authors.)

We felt it while sitting on the “back porch” of Crescent Mountain looking towards the Pliny Range and further beyond to the North Country.

We felt it on Speckled and Blueberry, two lovely mountains in Evans Notch where there are no crowds.

Truth is you find it wherever you find nature. But a good, long hike is the best place, for it is an uninterrupted walking meditation…or prayer. Thoughts come and go. So does inspiration. An occasional epiphany reveals itself.

Of course I wasn’t bright enough to pick up on this by myself. I spent quite a few hikes feeling the magic of the woods but not quite appreciating it. It was only when I slowed down and started paying attention to this little dog I hike with that I grasp it. Just as I had taught him the right way to fit in with society, he taught me the way to fit in with nature. Atticus always seems to know the right time to stop, take in the view, and breathe deep.

Recently Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Eat, Pray, Love has become a popular movie. I read the book, but haven’t seen the movie. If you are not familiar with the story the author goes in search of herself by traveling to three exotic locations around the world and seeking out spiritual mentors. I had it much easier than Ms. Gilbert. You see, I didn’t have to travel quite so far. I simply came to the mountains, watched my dog and followed his example.

In closing, do yourself a favor and get out during these next four weeks. They truly are the best of the year. The bugs are gone, the tourists are too (save for weekends), the forest is alive; the air is crisp and clean. If you are an avid hiker you know where to go. If you’re not you may want to try something like Black Mountain, Welch-Dickey, Mount Pemigewasset, the Sugarloaves or Bridal Veil Falls. It doesn’t really matter where you g – just go. Go and breathe deep. I promise you the world will make a bit more sense to you.

(Photo by Ken Stampfer.)

New Addition to Our Team

Sorry to have been silent lately but I've been wrapped up working on the edits for Following Atticus. My editor at William Morrow, Cassie Jones, did a great job with my manuscript and I'm making the necessary changes and hope to have them done and back in her skilled hands by September 15th.

Atticus is doing well. And I'm doing better. We've been out on some hikes and longer walks. Slowly but surely I'm regaining my strength and endurance.

We received good news a week ago when my attending surgeon, Stuart Battle, took the drainage tube out of my side and told me I wouldn't need further surgery. I cannot tell you how much I loved having that tube removed but it was nothing compared to the news of no more surgery. That means that during the next five weeks, which are the best of the year up here in the White Mountains, Atticus and I can now be footloose and fancy free once again - that is once I regain my strength.

There is something else I'm excited about as well. Last year I bought a new camera, a Canon Powershot SX20 IS. It is a great camera and takes nice shots but I discovered I wasn't using it all that much on the trail because it is bigger and more cumbersome than anything else I've used in the past. Hence the photos you've seen here from our hikes have been taken with an inexpensive Kodak digital camera, the EasyShare Z950. But there's a reason the Kodak was inexpensive. It lacked several features I was looking for in a trail camera. Often times I'd have to wait ten seconds to be able to take a second shot and it had its limitations when it came to low light photos.

When I decided to buy myself a survival gift (and why not considering that I finally learned my chances of survival from the septic shock were actually only about 20% to 25%) I went looking for an upscale Kodak, since I'm comfortable with their products.

Even someone with such a limited photographic ability as I have understands there's an intimacy that forms between a photographer and a camera and Kodak had treated me well through our first four years of hiking. I just needed to get a better one. I wasn't ready to make the full leap to a large SLR because I realized I wouldn't use it on the trail. While researching Kodak digitals I stumbled upon a new camera from Sony. It's called the NEX 3 and not only is it remarkably small, it's capable of great low light shots and takes as many as seven shots per second! That made my most recent Kodak seem like an antique.

The Sony NEX 3 will be here on Friday and I look forward to trying it out. There's one specific function I'm most excited about - the panorama sweep. I can hardly wait to see what it will do when we are on some of our ridge walks.

Here's a fun overview video of the Sony NEX 3.

A Few More Ken Stampfer Shots

That's Ann Stampfer drinking in the view from the top of Thoreau Falls with Atticus in the middle shot. If you're a hiker chances are you've seen Ann plenty of times on the trails - they've been just about everywhere in these mountains through the years - and you've probably also seen her in the pages of various Steve Smith books since Steve uses many of Ken's shots.

It's rare that Atticus and I hike with anyone else but we make an exception when it comes to Ken and Ann. They have always been supportive of our fundraising efforts and have been there for us in pretty much everything we've done since we met that first year Atticus and I started hiking. As a matter of fact it was Ann who believed I had a book in me before just about anyone else did. . . including me. Most importantly they also love Atticus and are his fairy god parents.

Ken Stampfer's Photos from Our Thoreau Falls Hike

Yesterday Atticus and I were joined by Ken and Ann Stampfer for the hike to Thoreau Falls. Ken, as always, had his camera in hand and took many great shots. These are just a few of them.

A Hike To Thoreau Falls (Dedicated to My Drainage Tube)

Why a dedication to the drainage tube sticking out of my side? Well, like George Harrison is about to tell you in his song, I've got some mixed feelings. The tube is painful and awkward and I really do want it gone. And yet having it there reminds me that I beat the odds and I'm alive, partly because of the poison it took out of my body when things weren't looking so good.

It has become such a big part of our lives. It dictates what we can and can't do. Some things (like yawning late at night, breathing heavily during a hike or sleeping on my stomach) are extremely painful. However, because of the drainage tube I was able to hike for the second time this week and that is something that made both Atticus and I extremely happy. How elated is Atticus these days? Well, I'll let the pictures show you! And just the fact that he allowed me to photograph him this soon after he suffered the world's worst haircut should tell you a thing or two as well. He's just pleased as punch that we are always together once again.

Today's hike was 10 miles on an out and back route to Thoreau Falls. It was a lovely day to be in the woods and the trails were mostly flat. This made for easy going which isn't a bad thing for our second hike of the week.

The slide show can be seen by clicking here. And not to worry, there are no photos of the drainage tube in the slide show.)

Our Hedgehog Hike

When it comes to the start of a hike Atticus and I are very different. I sit in the car at the trailhead, taking inventory in my head to see if I remembered everything and I consider the challenges awaiting us once we enter the woods.

I'm not sure how he knows it, but shortly before we arrive wherever we are heading to, Atticus ceases to sit and stands at the side window, looking off into the distance like the captain of a ship in days gone by seeking out land after so many weeks at sea. But as soon as we pull in he has happy feet and is anxious to get going. Watching his unbridled enthusiasm I always think of something Hafiz, the Persian poet, wrote: "The earth braces itself for the feet of a lover of God about to dance." For that's what he looks like: filled with joy and expectancy; a child on Christmas Eve. And yet as soon as we enter the woods our roles switch again. He's no longer the child; I am. He moves by rock and root, stream and tree with a calmness of one who is at home. I lose my mature self in the magic of the forest where birds I cannot see serenade us and the breeze shakes the leaves. No matter how often I enter the woods I am forever a visitor, awakening to the strangest of dreams for the very first time.

I've missed our hikes lately and watching Atticus on Tuesday I realized I am not the only one. He entered the woods, stopped and inhaled. I heard him sigh like he often does on a mountaintop. And I stood and watch him looking about that verdant land as if waiting to be recognized.

A lot of people ask me if Atticus acts differently since my surgery.

"Only on the trail," I tell them. "He stays closer to me than he used to."

Oh, it's not like he acted like some dogs who romp and roll through the forest and do the trail three our four times with all their galloping back and forth. He usually stays a constant 20 yards or so in front of me. But since the surgery he's now much closer. He knows it hurts for me to breathe deeply and he stops and looks back on me often with a concerned look on his face. He also seems to understand that I have to stop more often than I used to but this doesn't seem to bother him. He's home again, happy to be where he is, happy to be leading me towards the mountaintop.

On Tuesday we hiked Hedgehog. It's a favorite and we do it every year, sometimes twice. I chose it because it was step up from Black Cap in both elevation gain and distance, but not too much of a step up. As much as I'd like to be doing something longer and higher this drainage tube in myside reminds me not to get too ambitious. As it turned out, Hedgehog was ambitious enough. We went around the loop counter clockwise and stopped for a much needed break on the summit. We drank, shared almonds and a roast beef sandwich. We took in the views of the Tripyramids, Sleepers and Passaconaway (which looms above Hedgehog and looks more massive than it does from any other place I've seen it). There was a breeze and there were beautiful white clouds riding across the blue sky. In a few minutes I forgot all the pain I went through getting to the top.

From the summit we moved down to the next challenging part, a partly steep decent into the forest and there were places where I had to leap or run down a few strides. With each of these Atticus stayed behind and watched me with an appraising eye. Then when it was clear I was okay he'd join me. For the numerous times we've done the Hedgehog loop I never thought of that section as particularly challenging but everything's different these days. We're starting from scratch, learning to walk again by putting one foot in front of the other.

I decided to go counter clockwise because I knew fatigue would grow and I saved my favorite part of the hike for the second half. The East Ledges of Hedgehog are one of my favorite places in the Whites. There is a naturally formed stone couch that sits on a wide and deep flat porch of mountain rock. It drops off suddenly into rolling sea of lush green forest and that flows along until it starts to climb again, leading towards mountains named after some of the greatest Indian chiefs this land has known: Chocorua; Wonalancet; Passaconaway. We sat on the couch, drank some water and took in the view. We visited for a while and were pleased to have it to ourselves.

That's the great thing about a mountain. No matter how hard you have to work to get to the beautiful places, all difficulty is forgotten and all that remains is the grandeur. It doesn't matter whether the mountains is 6,000 feet or 2,500 feet. It's always the same.

Legend has it that when Passaconaway, the father of Wonalancet and the grandfather of Kancamagus, died in 1666, a sleigh pulled by wolves rose up flew through the sky, delivering him to Agiogochook, which is now known as Mount Washington. I took a long look at the mountain named after him, closed my eyes and imagined that sleigh flying overhead on its way towards Passaconaway's heaven. I then though about Passaconaway. I'm sure he would be relieved knowing that most of the mountains he loved were spared and protected from development, just as he would have wanted.

After spending time on the East Ledges and bidding adieu to Passaconaway we entered the forest again and worked our way back towards the car. It was slow down the trail but since we had nowhere to go it didn't matter. We simply had to make it down the mountain and back to our car.

That night as Atticus and I sat on the couch together a cool autumn wind teased us through the open window and I thought about how content we were. Six weeks prior doctors wondered if I was going to live. Now, we're back to climbing mountains again. Now we are back home again.

Slide Show of this Morning's Hike Up Hedgehog.

Today marks the six week anniersary of my surgery. The drainage tube is still in my side (and it still hurts). It makes it difficult to move quickly, bend over, reach for things, and most importantly...breathe. At night when I yawn the pain goes through my torso. And yet as slow as we moved today it was so worth going to the mountaintop. We both needed it. And although the five mile loop went slower than ever for us, we finished safely and we're now home relaxing and remembering a fine day on Hedgehog.

The slide show can be seen by clicking here.

On Hedgehog This Morning

The Atti-Cycle

As we gear up for a hike tomorrow with posts to follow, here's a shot just sent to us by Susan Dunker-Bendigo, the head librarian here in Jackson. It's from earlier in the summer when we had the Atti-cycle out to run errands. Susan got a kick out of it and took a picture.

Slide Show from Black Cap Hike Today

It was a little warm and a bit hazy but boy did it feel good to get back out on a mountain again. My body didn't always agree since I'm still recovering from surgery but this was simply soul work and I really needed that. Here's the slide show.

Four Weeks After the Day of Surgery

I think my doctors are more than a little surprised how much Atticus and I have been walking so soon after surgery. (After all, they weren't so sure I'd be leaving the hospital when I was at my worst.) Yes, as I reported last night, the tube and the surgical site still hurts and I have to be careful when I move. However, we're out and we're active. And if Dr. Battle and Dr. Tilney were surprised by how much we were walking before, I've got another surprise for them on Thursday when we meet to decide if I need more surgery or not. This morning we climbed Black Cap.

Now Black Cap is not the area's biggest mountain nor is it difficult to reach. But it is a good little workout even when I'm in shape. We've been up top several times before but today was a little different. I couldn't wear my hiking shoes. That would mean I'd have to bend over to tie them and that hurts a bit too much. I also didn't fasten the straps on my pack. That hurt too much as well. We went a lot slower than I've ever gone but I'm told by a friend we brought with us that she couldn't have gone much faster herself. And that's something else that was different: we hiked with another. As you know, Atti and I usually fly solo, but today I was a bit insecure and if I got into trouble I wanted someone there.

Happily there was no trouble. My side ached and this tube is causing it to throb as I sit here hours after finishing. But all-in-all it was a success.

For the past four weeks I've been living under other people's rules...to some extent. Today I took back some control and it felt good. There are times you just need to get out of your head and out on top of a mountain.

Four Weeks Ago Tonight

Four weeks ago tonight Atticus and I were given a ride to Memorial Hospital in an ambulance. Although I didn’t know it at the time things weren’t looking all that good for me. Oh, I knew I was sick and couldn’t make the trip myself – that’s why I called 911. I just didn’t have any idea how much danger I was in.

When the EMTs took my temperature I was 104.9. My blood pressure was extremely low. And I was in something called septic shock. I didn’t know much about it at the time but I’ve learned a great deal since then. This was all because of a gangrenous gallbladder that I weathered thinking it was a stomach virus. I was sick for more than a week, then hiked four out of six days, then was sick again for five days. On that fifth night I knew I couldn’t take any more.

As doctors have noted, it’s a good thing I called then. Had I not, I might not have been able to call and my corpse would have eventually been discovered.

And things were so bad within me, the poison of the sepsis was already in my blood when they cut me open the following day and I wouldn’t know it until after I was out of the hospital that my doctors were very concerned about me even after the surgery for six or so more days.

My doctors, Stuart Battle and Bob Tilney, have told me more than once how tough I am, how others might not have survived. They talk about my pain threshold and my fortitude.

I know differently. The day Bob signed me out of the hospital I had him show me how to change my own dressing so I could save money by not paying a visiting nurse. Well, that first night I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, Atticus looking up at me with more than a little concern on his face. Slowly I peeled back the large dressing that covered most of the scar, some wicking material sticking out of a hole, and a drainage tube coming out of another hole. The tube was long and ran down to a large bag and I was supposed to drain the bile from it each day.

I did okay at first and it took me ever to unwrap the bandages since I was being extremely cautious. When I first came eye to eye with the scar, the holes and the drainage tube I was okay. I didn’t feel nauseous in the least bit. But after about five minutes of standing in front of the mirror I started to feel faint and I had to go lie down.

I change my dressing every day and each day and while the wicking material is gone a small hole remains, I still see the long scar and the tube, while no longer emptying into a bag, remains. It’s always strange sight to see it there, sticking out of me like a tail. And every day when I look at it I get weak in my knees.

See what I mean? Not so tough after all.

To further prove my point: When Bob Tilney took the wicking material out and told me I could take a shower for the first time in two weeks I didn’t run right home and shower like you might think I would. I was afraid to. It took two more days before I could build up the courage to stand in the shower.

I’ll never get used to the tube and it hurts as much now as it did in the beginning. I suppose some of the pain also comes from the deep tissue that was cut open in the neighboring area. It takes a while to heal. But I associate the pain with the tube.

I’ve come a long way since my first day back in the house. I looked around the house and wasn’t sure how I was going to get around. And yet life is so different than it used to be. I think about every move I make now and calculate how much it will hurt.

Do I really want to get up for that drink of water? Am I really hungry? Can I put off going to the bathroom? How far can I roll over in bed before the pain kicks in?

The good news is that I’ve become pretty self-sufficient and Atticus and I get out for three walks a day: two of 1.6 miles each and a shorter one. This took some time to build up to and I can feel myself getting stronger. It takes a while to loosen up and my right hip is kind of sore because I favor that side without even knowing it.

Whenever I go to the hospital for a checkup (about once a week) either Bob or Stuart remark how strong I look and how it doesn’t look as if I’d had surgery. But I know better. I never feel as strong as they tell me I am but they make a point out of how far I’ve come, how I’m still alive, and how I’m progressing rapidly.

Last Friday Atticus and I were back at the hospital. He’s become a favorite there. Some have heard about the book and some just know about Atticus himself. While we were waiting for my appointment in radiology we sat in the lobby and seven or eight staff members came by and took his photo with their cell phones. He sits and looks at them as he’s always sat and looked at people who remark how different or cute or smart he is – like it’s no big deal. And they take his photo and go on their way.

Of course the nurses up in ICU and in the regular section fell in love with him. He was my constant companion when I was in there. My friends retrieved him every night, much to his chagrin, but he spent each day with me. We spent a lot of time walking laps together. These were our first steps towards taking a hike. They were, of course, baby steps. And unlike a hike, where he always leads me, in the hospital, while I struggled along slowly while trying to catch my breath, he walked right by my side as if he was going to catch me if I fell. He really is something else.

When we were in radiology a doctor shot dye in my drainage tube and it ran right up to the area where the gallbladder used to reside (they took out two thirds, leaving the remaining third because they didn’t want to endanger me – that’s how messy it was when they were in there) and the common bile duct. This was done so they can decide if I’ll need another surgery. I’ll meet with my doctors this coming Thursday and they’ll tell me how they think we should proceed.

There will be a drum roll in my head when they enter the room and tell me the verdict. Of course I’m hoping the surgery is all done and I can get back to living a somewhat normal life.

That’s what I was thinking about tonight as Atticus and I walked the 1.6 mile loop a lot slower than we used to. I thought about how nice it will be to let these holes in my body heal up and to eventually get rid of this hideous tube. I was thinking that as my right hip limped along a bit and I tried to move slowly enough so that the surgical site didn’t hurt. But more than anything, as I took category of all that took place and how close I came to losing my life I thought about what a gift such a night as this one is. Sure the walk went slower and I moved along with some pain but I’m alive – alive and able to enjoy a walk with Atticus.

Looking at him sleeping on the couch now as if he didn’t have a care in the world I'm reminded that it's the simplest things that matter most - no matter the cost of admission. Life is good.

The way I see things these days is not unlike how Robert Frost saw things in his four line poem "A Question":

"A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth."

A Happy Couple Drops in on Us

While in recovery mode things have been pretty quiet around here lately. So it was big news when two playful hummingbirds started coming around. I took these photos this afternoon and have yet to find a way to set my camera fast enough to catch those amazing wings. As you can see, I'm not the only one captivated by the fast-flying couple.