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    • Potato Donuts

      Potato Donuts

      While in Portland, Maine on business today I had a thought bubble creep above my head: Potato donuts!  I know, your Portland area thought bubble might have been lobster or blueberries or beer, and generally I might have thought the same thing.  But today it was potato donuts.

      This didn’t just come to me out of nowhere.  I remember watching an episode of Chronicle where they visited a potato donut shop in Portland and I thought at the time that I’d have to remember that next time I visited Portland.  Well, today was that day.  The mind surely works in mysterious ways, but there’s nothing mysterious about donuts.  They’re a guilty pleasure for sure.  Donuts are trendy right now, taking over where cupcakes left off.  Yeast donuts are tasty…  at least if they aren’t from the pink and orange place.  Apple cider donuts are heavenly.  But potato donuts?  New to me.

      A quick Google search yielded three potato donut shops nearby.  They were all The Holy Donut, which is the place featured on Chronicle.  I chose the closest one, which was the original on Park Street.  I got there around 1 PM, which is relatively late in the day for donuts, but they still looked great and I still had to wait in a line to get them.  The things I do for research.

      Not wanting to be a glutton, or at least not wanting to appear that I was a glutton, I ordered a half dozen in flavors ranging from dark chocolate sea salt to fresh lemon to triple berry glaze.  I gazed at the maple bacon donut but talked myself out of it.  These flavors were provoking!  Indeed, they provoked me into buying a seventh donut, a toasted coconut with coconut milk glazed delight that was taunting me from the rack.

      First impression; very moist, not as sweet as I would have expected, and chewier than a yeast donut.  But tasty.  On second thought, I haven’t had a big enough sample to really know for sure.  I need to try another one for desert tonight to really get a better handle on these things.

    • The Best Available at the Time

      Today I took this picture of a hummingbird.  Well, I took many pictures of a couple of hummingbirds and this one was good enough to post.  I know several photographers in my Facebook community who will look at this and bite their lip at my amateurish use of filters or aperture or whatever.  That’s okay with me.  While I wish the body wasn’t as blurry as it is, these suckers move fast, I don’t have 10,000 hours to dedicate to mastering the craft and at 52 I don’t really care whether someone harshly judges a picture I took.  Photos are time stamps of what I was looking at in a particular moment.  The 25 other photos I took to get this one go into the recycle bin.

      I recently heard a Tim Ferriss podcast interview with Brandon Stanton, creator of Humans of New York in which Stanton readily acknowledged that he’s not the best photographer, but that’s never been the point of it anyway.  His real strength lies in pulling stories out of the people he photographs.  And really that’s why people follow Stanton’s work.  He’s a master at going deep with his subjects.  He also mentioned that he’s interviewed and photographed thousands of people over the years, and most never make the final photoblog.  Those cut either hold back, decide they’re not comfortable with what they said, or perhaps Stanton didn’t find it as interesting as another person he photographed.

      Facebook is where we post pictures of the best of ourselves.  Great sunsets or vacations, adventures we’re on, fun times with friends and family, etc.  And I try to keep up as best I can, though I’ve toyed with the idea of deleting my Facebook account for years.  I don’t because it’s the only way to keep in touch with people I grew up with, worked with years ago, moved far away or simply don’t see regularly.  Some people hate Facebook because they feel like they’re not living as good a life as someone else.  I believe most people will post the good stuff and not the challenges they may be going through in their lives.  Which is why I appreciate those who open up about their struggles.  Chasing perfection is a fools game.  None of us are perfect.  Judging yourself based on how many likes you get is a dead end game.

      I was at two events over the weekend.  The first was a Celebration of Life ceremony for my Aunt Debby.  She was a remarkable, beautiful person who always got me smiling no matter how self-absorbed in teen angst I may have been at the time.  She was incredibly perceptive and could see when you were struggling with something and give you a shoulder to cry on if you needed it, or infect you with her laughter until you forgot whatever the hell you were spun up about in the first place.  I’m a better person for having known her, and strive to be better still.

      The second event I went to was a party with my wife’s work friends.  I didn’t know anyone but Kris there, but I make a living building bridges with people and rolled with the opportunity to get to know a lot of people in different stages of life.  All good people, and I was struck by how close they were as a group.  This was partly because they shared a common struggle to maintain dignity while working with two narcissistic VP assholes.  Having worked for or with some truly narcissistic tools before it was easy to sympathize with them.  I’ve learned not to blindly respect people just because they have a title, but for who they are and how they treat people.

      The hummingbirds are constantly in the garden right now.  Bee balm in particular is a hummingbird magnet.  Wait a few minutes and you have one or two hummingbirds buzzing around.  That meant I had plenty of chances to get a perfect picture, and yet never quite got there.  Hummingbirds are curious creatures, and while I lingered near the garden waiting to check them out they would swoop in, hover a few feet from me and check ME out.  Turnaround is fair play I guess.  They didn’t seem overly concerned about my photos of them and whether I was getting their good side.  If my photography and writing proves anything, its that perfection is… evasive.  So be it.  Sometimes you just need to go with the best available at the time and move on.  This post is far from perfect, but I think it’s time to post it and move on to other things.

    • First Sail

      First Sail

      Sailing season got off to a great start with a sunset cruise last night on Fayaway.  Any sail out of the Merrimack River begins with motoring out of the river.  There’s some setup involved in this process, and there’s a fair amount of checking out the stream of power boats zooming past you.  Sailing proceeds at a different speed than power boating.  There are benefits to both, but at that moment I wasn’t interested in getting someplace faster.

      Approaching the mouth of the Merrimack the channel zig zags sharply.  Best to pay attention to the navigation buoys in this stretch.  Fishermen line the shores of Plum Island and Salisbury Beach fishing for striper and whatever else is biting today.  Seals bob in the current looking us over curiously.  The ride out is long but always different.

      Steady winds greeted us out of the mouth of the Merrimack, and we headed north for a run up the coast.  It’s always amazing how far away from your day-to-day you feel when you get out on any body of water.  The Gulf of Maine certainly gives you that feeling.  Today’s sail takes us three miles off the coast of Salisbury, Seabrook and Hampton before we tack and make our way back towards the river.  A simple sail all things considered.  Nothing overly technical about it, just pleasant conversation and dodging lobster pots.

      Just before we tacked for home we saw splashing off to Starboard.  At first we thought perhaps whales, but as we drew closer we saw fish jumping out of the water and splashing down to the surface.  We were looking at dolphins hunting for fish in the rip, and dozens of fish exploding out of the water to escape.  The fish shined silver and gold in the reflection of the setting sun, and indeed looked like the rays of the sun as they arced outward in their attempt to live to see another day.  Always in moments like this I regret not having my camera with me.  These aren’t moments when an iPhone can do the job.

      So we sailed back to the Merrimack River, and when the wind finally petered out motored the rest of the way.  The ebbing tide combined with the current from the river made it a slow go coming back in, and the midges were able to make their presence known in swarms.  Thankful for bug spray, sunsets, good friends, a sound boat and another great day on the coast of somewhere beautiful.

    • Taking the Plunge

      Hot, summer days are upon us.  The season is short; too short.  Best to embrace these days while they’re here.  Garden work done…  well, done enough anyway.  It’s never really done.  These are the days you bought a pool for in the first place.  Time to take the plunge.

      Jumping into a body of water is always a sensory experience.  First, there’s a quick assessment of what you’re jumping into.  In a pond or in Buzzards Bay I might look for rocks, shallows or perhaps a log that might have drifted into the area that I’m about to plunge into.  Risk assessment is a form of self-preservation.  I’ve plunged from cliffs, off deck railings, and from diving boards into rivers, lakes, the ocean and into pools.  I’ve scraped the bottom on a few occasions, and I’d rather avoid that unpleasant brush with the solids.  My mother tells me about someone in the family who dove head first off a bridge at low tide and died from a broken neck.  My son has a friend who is paralyzed from a similar event hitting a rock.  Best to assess before plunging.  And first plunges into new waters are best performed feet first.

      On this day I’m jumping into my pool so I know well the nooks and crannies at the bottom.  Mentally checked that box if you will.  So after risk assessment is comfort.  Just how cold is this water I’m about to plunge into?  I’m not a tip-toer when it comes to swimming.  Cold water is like ripping off the bandaid; the sooner you get it done the sooner you can get to a normal state.  On this day looking into the blue water, I know already that its warm.  So with no further hesitation, I take the plunge!

      A feet first plunge straight into the deep end of the pool brings with it immediate rewards.  First, the cooling effect of water embracing your skin.  The water is 10-15 degrees cooler than the air at this point in the day, and that’s enough of a difference to refresh without shocking the senses.  Swimming in the Atlantic Ocean or in a mountain stream this time of year offers a completely different sensory experience when the temperature difference is 30 degrees or more.  Don’t get me wrong, that’s a thrill as well, but the immediate shock of the temperature difference overrides some of the other senses you experience when the temperature difference isn’t as extreme.  Cold water takes your breath away and shocks you right into the moment.  It’s exhilarating in those first moments, and numbing in the next moments.  Depending on your tolerance and the air temperature you may decide to linger or get the hell out.

      Back to the pool and warm water plunging, the moment after you’ve broken the surface tension with a plunge brings you into an entirely different environment than the one you just left.  In a dive you might swim forward, but in a plunge its a moment of blissful chaos followed by new sensations.  You may touch the bottom of the pool with your toes.  Perhaps you don’t.  But either way in a plunge you’re floating in aerated water that has changed its state.  Millions of bubbles float around you, and as you drift back up to the surface those bubbles brush up and tickle your skin as they float upward.  I feel like I’m floating in seltzer water at this moment, and as you break the surface and draw a breath the surface boils with air bubbles bursting as the hit the surface.  This is a moment when you feel truly alive.

      Swimming underwater brings its own sensory experience.  Different (of course) from swimming on the surface because you subtract everything happening up there and focus completely on what you’re doing and feeling underwater.  In the bay or in a pond you may feel plant life brushing up against your skin or the occasional fish.  This skeeves some people out but it doesn’t bother me.  Floating in Buzzards Bay you may have hundreds of minnows swimming close to you, brushing against or pecking at your skin.  That’s not for everyone I suppose but they’re just using you as shelter from the bigger fish who would snack on them.  But today I’m in a pool and if you do it right you don’t have plant life and minnows brushing up against you as you float in the water.

      Moving underwater you feel the water current brush against your skin.  This feeling is almost as exhilarating as the bubbles you felt after the plunge.  Feeling this fluid friction brush your skin as you float underwater has meditative qualities to it as you are very much in that moment and a part of the larger body of water that you’re floating in.  It’s a feeling I try to hold onto as I grudgingly get out of the water after that last swim in the bay or pool at the end of the season.  But lets not think about the last swim just yet.  We all know here that summer, like weekends, is all too brief.   So embrace the moment at hand and take the plunge.

    • Broken Shoelaces

      Just when your shoes are nice and broken in, the laces seem to wear thin and break.  Granted, the same forces that break in your shoes are also working on the weakest link in your shoes, but it has always seemed a design flaw that could be fixed.

      Shoelaces are not a sexy topic, but they’re highly relevant at critical moments, like when I’m rushing to a meeting and quickly slipping on my shoes to dash out of the hotel room and BAM! a shoe lace goes.  Emergency splicing and cursing ensue, followed by a visit to a store for some lesser shoe laces that never feel as special as the originals.  Many love affairs with well worn shoes have gone south for the lack of decent replacement laces.

      A good pair of shoes takes you to faraway places; hiking the coast of Portugal or walking La Ramblas in Barcelona, or to dance floors at your niece’s wedding reception, or to quiet walks of reflection with your aging dog.  I’ve come to appreciate a great pair of shoes as I appreciate a great tool in my toolbox.  I don’t buy a lot of shoes but the ones I buy get a lot of use.  And they do the job time and time again.  But time and use wear out each and the laces are the canary in the coal mine for shoes.  I’d like to think that an old pair of shoes is like Willy Nelson’s worn out guitar full of holes but still making beautiful music, but in reality an old pair of shoes can only take you so far.  At least with guitar strings you replace one with another just as good.  Not so with replacement shoe laces; they almost always are found lacking.  And while we may get a replacement set of laces or two, usually that first set of laces marks the beginning of the end for shoes.

      So consider the humble shoelace.  Designed to tightly integrate your shoe to your foot.  An excuse to stop and observe for spies around the world.  Source of many a middle school prank and inadvertent fall.  There when you need them until the day when they announce they’ve had enough.

    • March of the Giants: Roadside Paul Bunyan Statues

      March of the Giants: Roadside Paul Bunyan Statues

      An interesting phenomenon that I’ve seen in my travels around the northeast is a crop of Paul Bunyan statues sprinkled around the region.  I’ve seen them in Cheshire, Connecticut, Georgetown, Massachusetts, and Elmsford, New York.  I’ve seen pictures of one in Bangor, Maine.  Some of these, like the one in Elmsford, aren’t called Paul Bunyan, but “muffler man”.  But we all know it’s really a Paul Bunyan statue in disguise.

      These roadside curiosities are generally used to draw attention to a business.  And they do the job year in and year out.  Of those that I’ve run into, the statue in Cheshire is my favorite.  Not because it’s especially detailed, it’s more that its the first one I really paid attention to.  And there’s a great story of the guy who owns it sticking a flag pole in Paul’s hands because there was no restriction on the height of a flagpole but there was objection to the size of the statue when he originally put it up.  That’s a true yankee right there.

    • Tomatoes, Chicken Shit and Marcus Aurelius

      “…. Leaves that the wind. Drives earthward; such are the generations of men.”
                                                                                         – Marcus Aurelius (quoting Homer)

      “Even as are the generations of leaves, such are those also of men. As for the leaves, the wind scattereth some upon the earth, but the forest, as it bourgeons, putteth forth others when the season of spring is come; even so of men one generation springeth up and another passeth away.”
                                                                                        – Homer, The Iliad with the original quote

      We’re in the prime of growing season now and the tomato plants that I grew from seed are over knee high.  I’ve tried a couple of things this year that I haven’t done previously.  First, growing from seed instead of just buying plants at a local nursery.  I did that just because I wanted to do something “summer” in the middle of what seemed like an endless “winter”.  And second, I switched to chicken manure instead of composted cow manure.  This is a nod to my grandfather, who was known to gush about the benefits of chicken manure for growing kick ass tomatoes.  So far that seems to be bearing out.  Chicken shit is a derogatory term, but the real stuff packs a punch; pungent, powerful and efficient (a little goes a long way).

      The more I garden, the more I recognize the seasons for what they are.  And the longer I live, the more I see the similarities between our lives and the seasons.  There’s nothing revolutionary in this thought process, just refer to Homer and Marcus Aurelius and you see that countless generations of humans have thought the same thing.  This is our season, make the most of it.  Don’t fear the end, embrace the now.  I don’t view this as fatalistic, but pragmatic.  Believe me I’m in it for the long haul but know the deck of cards doesn’t always play out in your favor.

      A couple of seasons ago I had a problem with groundhogs eating half of my tomatoes and leaving the rest to rot in the sun.  Apparently they’d rather sample than finish the fruit.  Lovely habit.  Around the same time I had a nice batch of blueberries ripening in the sun.  The birds picked every last one of them before they showed a tint of blue.  Lesson learned.  Last year I planted pole beans to fill in around a clematis vine I had growing on a trellis.  The rabbits ate them all to the ground before they’d even reached a foot tall.  You just never know what fate brings your way, but I’ve learned to take measures to protect the fruits of my labor.  Don’t go through life trusting blindly that everything will be just fine.  Fence in your fruits and vegetables, change your passwords and lock your doors; trust but verify.

      “Life is short.  That’s all there is to say.  Get what you can from the present – thoughtfully, justly.  Unrestrained moderation.” – Marcus Aurelius

      Our growing season is pretty short, but it’s long enough to grow decent tomatoes.  Provide plenty of sunlight, nourish and give them a drink now and then, protect them from those who would harm them and if you’re lucky you end up with beautiful, ripe tomatoes later in the season.  It’s a basic formula for gardening and raising children, and it works well for how we maintain ourselves along the way too.  The last step of course is to savor the things you produce, the good fortune that comes your way, and the season that you’re in.

    • Peggy’s Cove

      Peggy’s Cove

      Standing watch over the rocky coast of Halifax’s Peggy’s Point is a small lighthouse built in 1915.  The lighthouse, modest in comparison to other in the region, grows more famous yearly as tourists flock to Peggy’s Cove, make their way out to the point and post pictures in front of this iconic backdrop.  Interestingly, the lighthouse doubled as the post office for many years, which seems impractical if only because the lighthouse is set out on the point, where something closer to the cove would seem more efficient.

      To me the cove is the real star, as houses and boathouses crowd right up to the edge of the water.  This is convenient when you make your living on the sea and walking from your house.  These houses are charming and make for a great Instagram post.  Nova Scotia restricts building in this area, and restricts purchasing property here to the locals.  I guess that means I can’t move there.  Tourism and fishing are the two primary industries here, so perhaps simply visiting is enough.

      Peggy’s Cove is named for Saint Margaret’s Bay, of which it’s a part of.  The point is dangerous for ships and the lighthouse does its job alerting ships to the dangers.  Unfortunately the tourists don’t always get the message.  Signs alert people to stay off the black rocks.  Black rocks mean water.  Many tourists to the region are swept off the rocks to their deaths.  Paying the ultimate price for a chance for the perfect picture.

      While its beautiful, it’s also a madhouse in the summer months when the cruise ships and other tourists flock to the area.  Frankly I’d rather visit in the offseason when you can have a little elbow room.

    • Monday Jump Start

      Monday Jump Start

      My week started at 6 AM with a quick walk around the garden to take stock of things, let Bodhi out and then a dive into writing before I shift gears towards work.  It was clear that the first cup of coffee hadn’t shaken the cobwebs off yet, so I indulged in some literary caffeine to get my jump started for the work week.  It started with grabbing a few random quotes from books I own:

      “As long as you live, keep learning how to live.” – Seneca

      “Misspending a man’s time is a kind of self-homicide.” – George Saville

      “A man is rich in the proportions of things he can let alone.” – Henry David Thoreau

      “The shortest and surest way to live with honor in this world is to be in reality what we would appear to be; all human virtues increase and strengthen themselves by the practice and experience of them.” – Socrates

      “The great thing in this world is not so much where we stand as in what direction we are moving.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes

      “No life ever grows great until it is focused, dedicated and disciplined.” – Henry Emerson Fosdick

      From there I started wondering about a couple of the people who were quoted.  I know all of the names but some carry more weight today than others.  Living in the Boston area it’s easy to know about Thoreau and Holmes, but Fosdick was someone I didn’t know as much about:

      Fosdick was a pastor from Buffalo who found fame as a leading voice in Modernism taking a stand against Fundamentalism (ie: taking the Bible at its literal word) with his sermons and books, in fighting racism and for co-authoring Alcoholics Anonymous.  He’s a guy that would look around today and have a few things to say about our society.  I’ll need to find his biography and read some of his sermons to really get a sense of the man.

      Then I moved over to Holmes.  Supreme Court Justice.  Acquaintance of the Concord elite.  Harvard guy…  Civil War veteran?  Interesting.  Another biography I need to read.

      We live our lives with history swirling all around us.  People who lived their lives with focus, dedication and discipline and changed our society in meaningful ways, and thus changed the way we live our own lives.  This ripple effect is profound, and yet we usually don’t know the source of the ripple.  I guess that’s one reason I blog; to learn about the antagonists that bounced around in this pond before me and changed the wave we’re surfing today.  Another reason is to build this writing muscle back up so it doesn’t atrophy.  Whether anyone ever reads it is beside the point, but I do appreciate you getting this far down the page.

      With that it’s time to focus on my job.  The work week has begun.  I’ll try to spend my time wisely this week, move in the right direction and to be honorable.  I don’t always get it right but hopefully I’ll do more good than harm this week.

    • Summer Solstice

      Summer Solstice

      The 4th of July is the big bang of summer, but late June is when the longest day of the year happens.  Summer solstice was June 21 and we’ve started the slow tilt away from the sun.  It’s hard to imagine because summer’s just begun, but it’s literally the beginning of the end.

      Late June is full of weddings and strawberry festivals and kids going to camp.  The tree pollen finally eases off and you can start breathing again.  The days are warm but not dog days of summer hot.  Lakes and the ocean are still warming up and remind you that you still aren’t that far past winter when you jump in.  Many of the perennial flowers in the garden are peaking.  Roses are bursting and bending over with the weight of their showy tops.  Annuals just planted weeks ago are hitting their stride.  Late June in New England is ripe with hope for the future.
      Other cultures start holiday right about now.  Americans work right through with maybe a week off wedged around a long weekend so you don’t have to take the extra day.  This is the time of year when you recognize the folly of this system.  Two days off on the weekend just don’t give you enough time for all that there is to do this time of year.  Beach or hiking?  Sailing or gardening?  Swim in the pool or go out for an ice cream?  Take a bike ride or have a drink with friends on the deck?  Its an embarrassment of riches.  These are days we’ll remember, but there’s so much to do that you can’t possibly fit it all in.
      Best to savor these moments.  Be happy with whatever you choose, shift down a gear or two and appreciate the long days.  Our lives are about living now.  We only have today, and the days aren’t getting any longer.