Anyone notice the age of extremes…

Gerd Altmann / Pixabay

School shootings, other shootings, racism and crime, people living on the streets? Leaders who routinely migrate to lies as migrations of millions knock loudly on doors? It’s the new now. What happened, where is the middle ground? Where did the grace and balance go?

Have we structured our minds, to limit the middle ground, to skip the challenge of finding balance between extremes? It’s always easier to jump on a side than to learn where in the middle to be. Have people become more on/off, yes/no, tit for tat, drowning in sameness machines? …


A yarn with needles from the north woods…

In the middle of Maine, at a bar in a small village surrounded by lakes and long winters sits Fred, who, after leaving his military career and a leg in wartime Korea, followed by twenty years fighting fires down south in Portland, was defining his remaining years as part time fixer of outboard motors and noteworthy holder of the little understood title of village drunk. It is a curious thing that someone with such a dire habit could hold a position so valued by the community, but it is true. Fred’s rumpled…


Sit with them, watch closely, be amazed.

Image: Steven Major

They move gracefully at will, the way ideas migrate in my head on a good day. They float in space, or move when and where they want or need to. I have seen them soar straight up beyond sight, then return with blinding speed to an impossibly sharp turn, heading back to the heavens for a repeat. It’s difficult to believe what you’re actually seeing in front of you.

Humming birds have appeared in my face, after an hour long walk away from a campground, to let me know the feeder back at my camp site had become empty. Unbelievable…


Wildlife encounters can happen quickly…

Rudy & Peter Skitterians / Pixabay

The morning air is sweet from hours of sleepy rain and dense with patches of fog. I was in tall grass, wet to the knees from walking the grassy edge of a small stream with camera and long lens looking for birds. Up ahead, the stream took a turn, hidden by more stalky and difficult vegetation. I moved slowly, ventured large steps while parting thin trees with both arms, eventually finding the stream, and pleased I had. This place was special. Up and downstream, grasses on both banks had grown tall and fallen towards each…


Life and Death in N.Y.C.

Andy Coinski / Pixabay

I woke stiff and tired Saturday noon. Late last night, I had completed a three week apartment remodeling project for clients on the upper west side of Manhattan. The job was a hellish labor intensive affair, with unforeseen issues and dreadful quantities of unexpected work. It had robed all the free time I had planned on while being in the city. On the up side, it was over, looked great, lucrative, and these work trips always endeared a sense of accomplishment and a distinctive thrill you had survived something unpredictable. The clients were returning from…

StevenMajor

Here For You.

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